A Child's Life In Summation
Canofworms over at Boobs, Injuries, and Dr. Pepper recently posted about a tense moment in a movie theater that had racial overtones, but ended with a humorous outcome. She lives in Memphis and I used to live in Memphis, so I can sympathize. It inspired me to relate a story of my own.
When I was in kindergarten, I went to Even's Elementary. I loved the school and it was close enough to walk. Since this was in the early seventies, my parents were comfortable letting a five year old walk to school with some slightly older neighborhood children. (That sounds totally crazy to me now.)
Memphis was in the middle of integrating their school system. This meant that half of the kids in one school district were bussed across town to another school district and vice versa. The idea was that you would force predominantly white neighborhoods to mix with black neighborhoods. This theory had a major fault. Most of the middle class white parents rebelled and took their kids out of the school system. Overnight, several half assed private schools opened that existed only so that parents wouldn't have to send their white kids to school with black kids. I know, it seems so surreal now.
My parents were lower middle class. Barely. They couldn't even afford to send me to a half assed private school. So, when I began my first grade year, instead of walking to school, I would leave the house to catch a bus to a mostly black neighborhood. Not that I cared about the color of skin at six years old, but I could not understand why I was no longer walking to school with my friends.
First day of school, I caught the bus at 5:45 a.m. for a forty-five minute drive through Memphis traffic, on the interstate no less, to go to class with the black kids at Norris Road Elementary. I don't recall how I got into my classroom, but I remember the response when I got there. I was the only white kid in class. I loved it. All of the black kids wanted to touch my hair and my skin, I was the center of attention.
The only other thing I remember about going to school there before my parents moved , so I could go to a different school, also happened on the first day. The teacher, I think she was black also, but I don't remember, looked straight at me when we took our seats. She stared for a minute and then said:
"Honey, I bet you feel like a marshmallow in a cup of hot chocolate."
When I was in kindergarten, I went to Even's Elementary. I loved the school and it was close enough to walk. Since this was in the early seventies, my parents were comfortable letting a five year old walk to school with some slightly older neighborhood children. (That sounds totally crazy to me now.)
Memphis was in the middle of integrating their school system. This meant that half of the kids in one school district were bussed across town to another school district and vice versa. The idea was that you would force predominantly white neighborhoods to mix with black neighborhoods. This theory had a major fault. Most of the middle class white parents rebelled and took their kids out of the school system. Overnight, several half assed private schools opened that existed only so that parents wouldn't have to send their white kids to school with black kids. I know, it seems so surreal now.
My parents were lower middle class. Barely. They couldn't even afford to send me to a half assed private school. So, when I began my first grade year, instead of walking to school, I would leave the house to catch a bus to a mostly black neighborhood. Not that I cared about the color of skin at six years old, but I could not understand why I was no longer walking to school with my friends.
First day of school, I caught the bus at 5:45 a.m. for a forty-five minute drive through Memphis traffic, on the interstate no less, to go to class with the black kids at Norris Road Elementary. I don't recall how I got into my classroom, but I remember the response when I got there. I was the only white kid in class. I loved it. All of the black kids wanted to touch my hair and my skin, I was the center of attention.
The only other thing I remember about going to school there before my parents moved , so I could go to a different school, also happened on the first day. The teacher, I think she was black also, but I don't remember, looked straight at me when we took our seats. She stared for a minute and then said:
"Honey, I bet you feel like a marshmallow in a cup of hot chocolate."
posted by Bat at 8:42 PM
5 Comments:
LMAO.. that is sooo funny!
Oh my gosh! That is hilarious.
Had a few experiences while I was in 'Nawlins but I was never called a marshmallow.
Love it!
Sounds like the story of my Dad going to Mexico as a kid, with his white white hair. Everyone wanted to touch it.
I want to touch your skin and your hair, my little marshmallow.
That is great!
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