Epilogue to THE COIN © 2025 (rough draft ) Full Story #Racism #MississippiDelta #teachershortage

 

Epilogue to THE COIN © 2025

 

Anything and Any Measure to NOT be wrong:

                                                                            When he listened to his point of view, "They are taking over.." All along the while he thought about the room he taught in was being inside of a rectangle. Inside to escape the Outside-Is the purpose of Education. He had an argument with his girlfriend. Barely made his rent this month. She scorned, "You don't even do anything for me anymore." The day before that he was at the bus stop and telling at kids to get on the bus. They yelled back, "YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" was the mild form of the expression. He returned home-and almost dosed off until he heard a gunshot from the apartment complex next door. He immediately fell the floor and covered his head.

                                                                            "They're savages, even Malcolm X wanted his own kind to live seperately. Everything they get a hold of they ruin. That's why 'The Great White Plight' happened when the White's left left the public schools. The White's were afraid for their safety." He didn't want to call anymore. Real men don't complain. A tear streamed down his cheek.

With three hours of sleep, he ate a banana, while nervously chain smoking, and driving. John Lenonon was preaching on his radio, "I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round," hitting every pothole on Frontage Road. 

He was everso familiar with the demographics that he didn't even look around: burnt down houses, houses with broken windows, houses with bars on doors and windows. Had the local liqour store with gas stations that were owned by immagrants.

He flicked the flaming cotton cigarette filter of the fourth cigarette out the window. Then he pushed the button to roll down all four windows. Vent all the dirty air out "...and hopefully the negativity from the day before."

 

He gets to the school parking lot about ten minutes before the bell rings.  "Something smells," Ms. Haggard says loudly as she raises her nose. That was her lead to a conversation with her click. He strolls passed the bathroom and saw her out of his peripheral pointing in his direction. Then he smells the weed. He sees the principal, a student, and one of the school's security guards come out of there. He turns around and quickly observes Haggard and her click. "Have a good day," Haggard says smiling. He turns back around and hears one of them say purposefully loud, "He always smells bad. 

Once he is in the room he quickly places a worksheet on his student's desk. Then he stares at the finger by his middle finger salute, "my wedding finger." All along that while remembering that student who was cursing at him. He had the student go out of the room. Followed the student, then he slammed the door behind them so hard that it broke his finger. Eventually, after a few months, he was the only teacher the student felt comfortable talking to. 

The memories were so vivd, sureal, like his life was flashing before his eyes, as he continued to listen,

"They've had the biggest risk of sexually transmitted diseases, as well as, had the most unwanted children..." 

-and he just looked at the same finger still deformed after all these years. 

He remembers that he opened up the computer and looks at the lesson plan and thought to himself, "They may not grasp any of it." It was the same lesson plan that he used last week, and the month before. 

 

Maybe he needed to be preached to, "They've ruined our economy..." He could imagine someone saying

,"Well you wanted to be black so much. Now you get your chance."

In 1988, twenty years after The Civil Rights Movement, white upper middle, and upper white class neighborhoods around the US, parents were horrified that their children were listening to Gangsta Rap. Were the descendants, or the ancestors of the Watts California riots getting revenge?? Revenge demonstrated by white kids talking street talk to their parents after listening to Gangsta Rap? 

He remembered an awkward ride to junior high school in his father's pristine black mercedes. His father had to think that he was going to save him, "Son, what is this cassette I found in your bedroom? Kool Moe Dee 'Rise and Shine'?"  

He tried in vain for the next five minutes to explain to his father about Rap in two categories: positive rap and gangsta rap. And the destined to be prodigal son, "Don't go in my room again! It's not like he is saying f the police!"

"Why don't you listen to something more wholesome like 'The Monkeys?' While you're living in my house it's my rules!"

 

"Look at Detroit. Look even in Jackson, Mississippi or the Mississippi Delta. Everything they touch turns bad. All across the Nation we moved on..." The boy continued, "Some of us were casts out of The White Land," he thought to himself.

"You have to come to our side. There's a reason why 'white rhymes with right."

He remembered the job interviews. He was a new college graduate. He remembered the repeated courses he had to take. Two of the instructors waited till after the second day of class, "We need to talk." He remembered how compassionate his teachers and job interview superiors tried to sound.

 There must be some kind of book out there that had a step by step process of how to get rid of the "those who don't meet the standard." He remembered he argued with the instructor, "Who are you to say I can't," type of sentiment. The instructor then everso politely out other pre-test pretested papers from the successful students. This reminded him of his teachers in elementary through highschool teachers too. 

"Well I want to empower the students."

"Well. How exactly do you plan to do that you have no experience?" The principal looked at him. He was immediately psyched out. Apparent as he looked around the room. Reminded him of an interogation room you'd see on cop shows. Except with more props on the walls. Like numerous degrees and awards. Things on the wall to let the interviewee know his/her place. And that couple seconds of hesitation before he started explaining lesson plans with an interest inventory. The principal interupted, "Will be in touch."

 "If you can't handle the pressure of a job interview how do you expect to manage a classroom."

On to the next, and the complaining, "I knew no one would give me a chance."

"But you only need one good interview to get the job," his mother tried to encourage him. 

"I have been to seven interviews, They remember me from grade school."

 

He remembered being in a line to go into a room to take an aptitude test. He saw a teacher walk up to another teacher and pretend to whisper, "Not him." Therefor, he was taken out of the line. Then he heard his peers mocking him, "Sped kid. He's special." 

Took him ten years to get his Bachelors degree in Special Education.

He remembered, "So you were taught by Doctor Ore." "Yes Sir," he answered the principal. And that was enough to get him hired.

One day he had kids copying multiplication tables on long papers. Just like he did in those sped classes. 

"What are you doing? You should be reading them the school handbook!" His superviser seemingly ambushed him. HIs students began to laugh. His superviser told the students, "Shut UP!" 

Then there was, "Okay so everybody," He had on his best thrift store bought suit. "Everybody stand up." And the two principals doing "their routine evaluation" looked at each other and nodded-which inevitably led to a concerned meeting with the whole executive staff. "We are just concerned that this is not the right environment for you."

"It's not really their fault." The boy paused then to seemingly change his vocal tone, "And some people are just too naive and gullible in feeling self-pity for them."

...and he traveled through his memories more as he remembered thinking to himself in that 'concerned conference,' that "Not even my own kind want me."

                                                                                -and so in that moment with the boy he wondered

                                        if he mad his emotional angst dictate his perception.

 

So he gave in to the advice of his mother and father. 'When All Else Fails right? He sat at the table. Although it was only four square feet, his emotions made the table seem much longer. There always seems to be a lotta pain between where a person is and where he/she wants to be...

...and i really had no idea where i wanted to be.

His father's top button of the shirt was unbuttoned, and the tie was removed, "I have been listening to you whine and complain for days now." He paused to let his mother take over, "Your father and I have reached out to your college professor Dr. Ore. Call her." "Yes son. It is time for you to get back on that horse. The ball is in your court."

So a month later, 

he found himself, "I found myself. Finding out who I really am."

Then he was back remembering that day teaching: Hearing his student,  Jakel, do all that street talk in the hallway. Once he came inside of his classroom Jakel's tone changed,

“How are you doing?”

It wasn’t but three words. Yet it was stated at the right time that he needed.

And he thought about a few months prior to that. Thought about the disappointment and guilt of what happened after…

Remembered specifically:

His students bringing gifts.

Kanjrea with the balloons that had Spiderman on em. The toy matchbox cars that JohnR brought. The stuffed Teddy Bears that LaCarolyn brought; and the handwritten letter that Jakel gave him to give to his son.

Remembered his cell phone ringing:

“How are you doing?” He asked, answering so joyfully. For once he could have something that he wanted for so long.

“Yea, Mom says. Well, I think so as well. I don’t want to see you for a while. It’s just a lot.”