My hand, she has a mind of her own

On speaking up...

On Friday, November 24, 1978, every single student at my high school, Little Rock Central, was on a high, a very high high. Why? On the Thursday, Central beat the pants off Hall High School with a score of 22-6 on the Thanksgiving Day football game. It was THE BIG GAME of the year, they were our BIG RIVALS and we had beaten them BIG TIME. So, Friday was a glorious day and everyone was walking on a cloud of pride and unadulterated happiness.

As my fellow classmates and I floated into Honours English class, our joyous balloon was quickly popped. Mrs Wood reminded us that it was the day our main term essay was due and it was time to hand them in. I and two of my classmates did so amidst the moans and complaints that quickly followed from most of our other classmates.

But The Big Game was yesterday and I didn’t have time to complete it all.

I had to play (cheer, high step) in The Big Game, so I didn’t have enough time to finish writing everything out.

I was going to get it done last night, but I was just too tired after The Big Game.

Could I have until Monday to turn it in? I promise to get it to you by then.

Everything had been blamed on The Big Game and everyone agreed that Monday was a reasonable day to hand in the final essay. Everyone agreed except Lisa, Susan and I. Well, I really don’t know about Susan and Lisa because they didn’t say anything one way or the other. I think I interpreted their slumped shoulders and looks of disbelief and disappointment as having been totally pissed off like I was. I assumed they were angry because if I were they, I would be too, and I was.

I was angry because my classmates and I were in Honours English, for goodness sakes. We were the crème de la crème, or so we were told. We were the top of our class, the leaders, the movers and shakers of the school and here we were complaining about a due date that we had known about for the last 3 months. Where was our collective self-respect? Doesn’t anyone besides me plan ahead? Clearly Lisa and Susan did, but what about the rest of us??

I was, also, angry because I had busted my guts to get the essay in on time, as had Susan and Lisa. Well, if I’m honest, there was no gut-busting. I’ve never been a procrastinator so I had started planning the essay the very day, 3 months earlier, that we got the assignment. I tremble at the thought of doing things last minute and because of this, I planned meticulously so that I could go to The Big Game AND turn in my essay on time. I wasn’t going to miss that game nor that deadline. I was not a ‘miss a deadline’ kind of student.

Then, Mrs. Wood said something so extraordinary and incredulous that I almost fell out of my seat.

Well, I see that perhaps a deadline after The Big Game was a bit ridiculous and you all have had a hard time getting the deadline met. So, I will extend the deadline until Monday but that is it. Monday or you get an ‘F’.

The top of my head blew off and I could not believe what I had just heard. Mrs. Wood, the Honours English teacher, tough as nails, smart and fair, educator par excellence, had just given into the pathetic excuses of the smartest and the brightest in our school. How could she behave in such an indignant and unreasonable way?

My hand had a mind of her own and up she went, waving a little to be sure and catch Mrs. Wood’s attention. She called my name and all eyes turned to me.

Yes, Dana?

I don’t think it’s fair that the deadline has been extended. Lisa, Susan and I have managed to turn our papers in on time so why shouldn’t the rest of the class do the same? We have worked hard to get it in on time, we had plenty of time and notification of when it was due and we were organised enough to get the job done. How fair is it that you have cut everyone else some slack when this is clearly and Honours English class??

I see your point, Dana. So, what I will do is keep the deadline to Monday and give you, Lisa and Susan extra credit points for the paper.

Once again, my hand shot up. Everyone’s eyes were glued on me to see what I would say next.

Well, Mrs. Wood, that’s all well and good but I, and I think I can speak for Lisa and Susan, do not need extra credit. My grade point out of 100 is 104, so I’m already acing this course and extra credit is just an unnecessary cherry on the top of the cake. What would be fair is to grade our papers fairly and subtract points, maybe 10%, off those who turn it in on Monday.

Dana, I see your point and I would like to talk to you after class, please.

The whole class breathed a sigh of relief. Then the looks that could kill came my way. Needless to say, what I had proposed to the teacher was not very popular. But in the end, they got their deadline extended without affecting their grades, and all I did was state the obvious and try to bring some self-respect into our Honours English class. I could not for the life of me understand, at the time, why everyone was pissed off with me. Nor do I remember how Lisa and Susan felt about my including them along with me in this endeavour or if indeed they agreed with me at all. It did not matter. I was willing to risk being unpopular for fairness and integrity. In the following weeks after this incident, I did not lose any friends nor did I receive any reprisal for what I had said. I’m not sure why there was no kickback, but I’d like to think, in my ‘humans are basically good’ mindset, that my fellow students knew I was right and therefore had no cause to complain. Most likely I had simply ignored the kickback and carried on with life.

Thinking back, it would have been easier to have said nothing. My grade point average was unaffected and what did I care about what my fellow classmates’ grades were? Except I did care. I cared when there was a lack of integrity, honesty and character. Hypocrisy made, makes me crazy and fairness was high on my list of values. My hand goes up when I need to speak up, when no one else is speaking up, when it matters to my values.

Having said all this, I have never had to raise my hand in a situation that would have gotten me, or my family or friends, killed, persecuted, tortured, or physically or mentally abused or any other situation in which I or my loved ones are harmed. I think of William Wilberforce, Waris Dirie, Malala Yousafzai, the Sufferagettes, or even my fellow faithful who are beaten up for carrying a bible or wearing a cross. I have risked popularity, criticism, loss of friendship, but never shunning, persecution nor exile. I thought I was brave in high school, but was I really just precocious, self-righteous, and cocky?

So, if I were in that classroom now, I might not put my hand up – too much negative energy – but if I’m honest with myself, I might just risk it and let her rise up once again. Some things just need to be said and I was not, am not, hope that I’m not too afraid to say them now.

Thank you so much to

Larry Urish

,

Genie Joseph

,

Kathy Ayers

,

Simon Emslie

and

Alden Cox

and all my Write Hearted colleagues for their invaluable input on this post.