N-Word
I am a student teacher
for an eighth grade English class.
One of the first things I do every day
Is take attendance.
Is Michelle here?
Justin?
Ricardo?
Sherry?
N-…
I’m sorry.
How do you pronounce your name?
…
N…n…n…
I’m stuttering like it’s my first day on the job.
The N-word
Is the newest student on my class roster.
In my Honors class,
We are reading the classic-Nobel-Prize-winning Steinbeck novel
Of Mice and Men.
The novel has approximately 28,300 words.
The n-word appears 20 times.
I counted.
I will say every other terrible word in this book:
bitch, bastard, Goddamn
all with relish.
They have excellent attendance in my class.
The N-word shows up sporadically.
But when he is there, he makes his presence known.
He is a small chestnut colored boy.
With big innocent eyes and a smile that gleams
With all the welcome of a picket fence.
I am the same color as his teeth.
He smiles at me often.
I wish I could say that his grin is twisted,
Sarcastic.
But it is pure and whole and I am not worthy of it,
So I do not smile back at him.
When the N-word raises his hand to read,
I ignore his hand,
Waiting for it to curl into a fist,
But it doesn’t.
His smile glows all the brighter.
I decide to read.
The N-word gets out of his seat without permission.
I do not reprimand him.
And he sits one seat closer to the front
I ignore him, because that is all I can do.
And continue reading.
Steinbeck’s prose flows from my lips
Making me ache with pleasure.
The twang of his character’s speech
Reaches the ears of my students,
As I speak in the voice of Crooks, the only black character.
He is talking to the floozy tart whose only name is Curley’s Wife.
“You got no rights coming in a colored man’s room.
You got no rights messing around in here at all.
Now you jus’ get out, an’ get out quick. If you don’t, I’m gonna ast the boss not to ever let you come in the barn no more.”
This will be as revolutionary as Crooks gets.
The N-word, however, is poised to riot.
The N-word is not quiet.
I look up.
The N-word is now sitting right in front of me.
All the other students’ eyes and ears are riveted on him.
In T-minus eight words,
His name, his broken, horrible, complicated, dangerous name,
Will either pass my lips or slip by,
Ignored as always.
He pleads with me to understand.
This is academics.
He knows the difference between
Education and brainwashing.
He begs me to pronounce his name right.
Not to ignore it, like all his other teachers,
Or to whisper it
With all the crack and crackle of a whip across his back.
Just say it.
Miss Manso, I promise not to tell if you just say it.
Miss Manso, let me be a part of your class.
Miss Manso, I know you’re the teacher, but you can still learn.
Miss Manso, let me earn my place in this classroom.
Miss Manso.
“She turned on him in scorn ‘Listen…Negro,’ she said. ‘Do you know what I can do to you if you open your trap?”
Crooks withers into a complacent, silent shadow.
The N-Word does the same.
I can feel his apathy settle over him like a ball and chain.
I did not say his name.
My heart aches for this little boy
Who just wants his history to be validated.
Syndicated.
But I eradicated any chance of him
Ever being part of my classroom discussion.
I know the importance of choosing your words wisely.
I want to believe that I have chosen not to say the n-word
For fear of misinterpretation.
Or as authentication of every crime
I have ever been accused of.
A confirmation that I, as a white woman, am inherently racist.
But I'm having a hard time trying to define
if I crossed the line.
Between ignorance and colorblind.
If, by not saying the n-word,
I have kept race out of my room
not because he is not welcome,
but because he is not flattering.
If in the back of my mind, I am worried
that a white woman saying the word...
the word...the word...
I know the importance of choosing words wisely...
But have I chosen not to say...n-
not for fear of misinterpretation.
For fear of portraying myself in an certain light.
Because I might offend someone.
Because of the plight of...
Because in spite of...
the fact that I am a teacher
I am a white woman
and I cannot say ...
Ni....Ni....Ni....
We get to the end of the chapter.
The N-word has appeared a total of three times.
I do not say it once.
Class is over.
The students: Michelle, Ricardo, Justin, Sherry
and all the rest, gather their books.
N-Word is the last to leave.
I call out to him, wanting to restore...
Or maybe break the bond between us.
He knows bondage well.
He looks at me with hope,
But I will disappoint him once again.
"Have a good rest of the day"
That's all I can say.
The light in his eyes dims into a dull bruise.
Despite the darkness of his skin, he carries many bruises.
He says to me. "Goodbye, Miss Manso. I'll see you tomorrow."