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Seeing Through The Wrong
Me , being the last one off the bus , I walk up to the school with my head down. I slowly look up at the light that shimmers onto the silver bars that guard the doorways as people yell and protest. I climb a dozen of stairs before I get to those cold silver bars that were lightly frosted. An officer comes over and pats me down for weapons or any other illegal things which I clearly don’t have. He then unlocks the bars and lets me through. Stepping into the school I see a friend of mine ,who ran from an officer. He gets tackled and cuffed. I watch him get taken away, I walk through the crowded halls,getting nasty looks from everyone at least most of the way that I walk to my classroom. I step through the doorway seeing the classroom divided. I go and sit with some of the friends I know in the back of the class. The teacher clearly doesn’t want me here. Most people in general give me nasty looks , I get over it. I look over at one of my friends as I ask a question.The teacher sees me and walks up to my desk.She directs me to the hallway outside the classroom.She speaks to me about not speaking in the classroom and then slaps me. We both go back inside. I sit down quietly and think about what happened. I know at that moment I want to spark a change.
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This vignette talks about school discrimination in the 60's.