Free Educating Esmé by Esmé Raji Codell Page B

When you stabbed her in the back?”
    â€œWith a pencil,” offered Kirk.
    â€œYes, thank you, Kirk, with a pencil.”
    â€œShe didn’t die,” Vanessa reminded me.
    â€œNo, she didn’t. You only wounded her. You didn’t kill her. Very good.” I tried to be encouraging. “But there seems to be some misunderstanding. You see, you must treat people as you would like to be treated even in the event that they are ignorant and don’t treat you as you would like to be treated. That’s the tricky part. You must follow the Golden Rule even if you think they are stupid. Even if they don’t follow theGolden Rule, you don’t bring yourselves down to their level.”
    The children now hung their heads.
    â€œI’m sorry. I should have explained it more clearly. Perhaps it is my fault,” I suggested. A heavy silence hung.
    â€œWe’ll do better next time,” Vanessa called out brightly.
    â€œYeah! We get it now!” said Kirk. “We’re sorry.”
    â€œDon’t say you’re sorry to me,” I said. “I’m not the one with a pencil stuck in my back.”
    The children laughed at this, reminisced briefly about the humor in seeing a pencil in someone’s back, and began working industriously from their T.T.W.E. texts. From behind my desk, I stared at them, wondering whether to be afraid. Didn’t Malcolm X say something like, “Only those who do not understand us have reason to fear”?
    At the end of the period, I jokingly said, “May I assign homework, or will I then need to watch my back?”
    â€œNot you, Madame Esmé,” said Selena.
    That made me feel a little better.
February 7
    We just finished a unit about Native Americans. I thought it was very successful. We studied several tribes in depth, and I paid a man from the Native American Education Service to come in and give a presentation about the parallels between Native and African Americans toward the building of our nation. He brought in lots of unusual artifacts, too.
    To culminate the unit we had a powwow. We painted our faces and made headdresses according to research and learned as authentic a rain dance as we could find. Asha’s mother helped make her a really nice Native American–style vest for the occasion. It made me feel good, like Asha was interested enough to tell her mom what she was learning, and Asha’s mom was interested enough to get involved.
    We had a naming ceremony, in which we went in a circle, and someone would volunteer to give that person a name that capitalized on some positive feature. It was a very thoughtful time. JoEllen was given “Girl of Many Questions.” Donna was given “Girl with Cheeks Like Smiling Chipmunk.” Ozzie was “Boy WhoDraws Like Crazy.” Monique was “Hair That Flows Like Water.” I was pleased that the children stayed encouraging in the names they gave. I wrote out each name as it was decided upon on a badge for the student to wear. Then the children named me “Woman With Many Children.”
    They wore their costumes down to lunch. They were very quiet in the hall. Ms. Coil commented on this. “Why aren’t you making noise, like wild Indians?”
    Tobias, line captain, looked disdainful. “We’re Iroquois, not Comanche,” he said by way of explanation. Hearing him say that was like getting to give a perfect score on a test. I knew he got it.
    Like every successful day, it seems, it ended by getting called into the office.
    â€œI ‘did’ Native Americans when I taught kindergarten,” boasted Ms. Coil.
    â€œThat’s nice.”
    â€œI had them dress up, too. Don’t you think fifth grade is kind of old for dress-up?”
    â€œThey were comfortable enough,” I shrugged.
    â€œI notice by your lesson plans you didn’t quiz themafter each tribe. Maybe next time, Woman With Many Children.” She read my