Social Justice Writing Contest
During the month of January thru mid February, our Focus classes discussed issues of Social Justice. The 6th graders studied the early life of Martin Luther King Jr. The 7th graders explored the Montgomery Bus Boycotts, the bombing of the Birmingham church where four girls lost their lives and Martin Luther King Jr.’s ‘I Have A Dream’ speech. The 8th graders reflected on how issues of social justice are still prevalent in our society today. Each Focus class designed a poster and the school participated in a gallery walk to view the creations.
For our third writing contest, students were asked to write a brief biography on an individual who was instrumental during the Civil Rights era, or to write a personal essay, or a real or imagined story about Social Justice.
The following students won awards:
1st place A.J. M. ($25.00)
2nd place Geneva L. ($15.00)
3rd place Molly B. ($10.00)
The following story is student A.J. M’s winning entry:
Terrific Tuesday
The candle flickered a slight flame, a beam, shooting from the dark room onto his pale face. Half his face lit by the candle, with one dark brown eye gleaming like newly cut glass, a tear fell down his face. A light sobbing came from him, with every breath he took the candle stuttered. He blew out one last sorrowful breath, blowing out the candle. He went to sleep, isolated, and empty.
In the morning, he awoke. His warm, comfortable pjs lining his legs, making him, for once, feel accepted into somewhere, his bed. He sat up, reluctantly, if he wished to suffer another day in his life, he would go to school. But, if we wished to cry in anguish he would stay, both options left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He decided to go to school, but had second thoughts as he stood up.
He stumbled out his bedroom door, tripping over his long, flannel pants. He reached to his shirt, pulling up his bruised and battered arm to the stairwell railing, where a shirt hang. He pulled it over his scared body, and walked down the stairs. With every step, his body ached like he was being stabbed with broken glass.
He walked outside, transitioning from his warm, safe house, to the cold, bitter reality. He stumbled to his bus stop, and sulked in his bitter loneliness. He turned his head slightly, and peered down the street. He saw the long, yellow bus driving towards him. “Another day in Hell,” he grumbled to himself. The bus pulled up to him, and he glared inside and staggered onto the bus.
He quickly found a seat in the back, as far away from those who tortured him. As he looked out the window, the bus started to move, and rain begun to poor. He watches the outside world move quickly, while he knew his day would be long, and apathetic.
“Hey Tyler!” A boy said sarcastically whilst swinging into the seat with him. “How was the gays day?”
Tyler frowned, and felt inferior, but tried to defend himself. “You know Ryan, I have normal days like you!” He said angrily.
“BUT YOU’RE GAY!” Ryan yelled, and struck Tyler on the face.
“OUCH,” Tyler responded, “that hurt!”
“That was the point, Gay Lord.” Ryan said rudely.
Soon after Ryan’s daily homophobic rants, the bus got to school and they went on with their daily lives. Ryan, being the alpha dog of his school, went on with a day of fulfilled, confident, importance. While Tyler, on the other hand, went on with his usual inferior, victimized, emptiness that at this point, consumed him.
When he returned home, Tyler threw his backpack to the wall, with a large thump it landed on the ground. He then fell onto his bed, face first, and started to cry, like usual. He sobbed until he he couldn’t feel his body. After he sobbed, he got up, empty inside, and went to grab some food like usual.
His night went on like all the others, crying, eating, and hiding from his family. His morning also went the same. But, in the cafeteria, he heard an announcement, odd, he never hears those, and when he does, they are insignificant. But this one was odd, they mentioned an assembly.
Later that day he went to the assembly, expecting a pep rally, or some sort of cheery stuff like usual. But the lights went down, and Tyler nuzzled into his hoodie, covering most of his face. Then a video started playing.
The entire time the video played, Tyler was amazed by it, it was about equal rights, and respect of others choices. He was looked at, but not the usual sinister looks he got, these were looks of odd… confusion. People looking around at others, not seeing as vague differences, but as people.
Tyler stood up after the video, reluctantly. He tilted his head over to the door. A sea of people gathering and talking to each other, odd, Tyler only ever saw people being upset over differences. But this…this, was love, laughter, and acceptance.
Tyler stumbled over to the crowed, curiouser and curiouser of what was happening.
“Hey dude!” Tyler heard Ryan say with an odd glee.
“Oh, here it comes” Tyler thought to himself.
“What’s up?” Ryan said surprising instead of an insult.
“A-” Tyler stuttered, “Aren’t you gonna say something mean?” “No! Why would I do that, you’re human!”
“I just thought since you usua-”
“I know, I know. I’m so sorry for the past…”
Tyler and Ryan talked on and on, but not as victim, and victimizer, but as friend, and friend. But when Tyler got home, instead of the usual sorrow, and emptiness, he was happy, and full of glee. He went to sleep that night, happy, for once in years instead of a bitter, sorry, feeling for his future, he saw a new bright and loving one instead.
The following story is Geneva L. winning entry:
Little Sister
“Well… Are you black or are you white!” It’s a question I hear a lot and can be hard to answer. My name is Tribuo. Why do people ask me this? If my clues haven’t given you the answer yet then I will tell you that my mother is from Europe and my father’s parents where born in west Africa. I am “half black and half white.” ” don’t talk to my sister that way, or you’ll walk home half black with bruises.” They walk away snickering, but they know I would do it. I would do any thing to protect my little sister.
“Where you okay back there?” “I could have handled them myself.” She said, but I knew she needed me. “Are you hurt?” She said no but she was doing a bad job of hiding her pain. “I’ll take you to the nurses office, I insist.” White kids, who seemed to all be jerks, thought of us as two stains that never go away.
There are six black kids in our boarding school, if you count my sister and myself that is. You may expect them to all be gangsters or rappers like they are bad boys or something, but they aren’t like that. My four friends and I have a secret handshake, some people think it’s stupid, where we make a peace sign with hand and we put our piece signs together to make a star. In elementary school we thought that it looked cool so we still do it now.
My sister, Hostia, comes home one day in tears. Catching her breath, wiping her eyes, and covering a wound, Hostia can barley utter a word. As she calms down, she explains the cause of the waterfalls on her face. She was on her way to the store when three eighth graders surrounded her. They called her names and pushed her onto the cement. The leader pulled out his knife, but before he could cause serious damage, my only white friend, Victor, stopped the leader but Hostia still walked away with a nasty scar and the threatening words of a racist bully.
I thank Victor over the phone but, we both know that we have to stop the harassment once and for all and I had just the plan.
…
Flashlights illuminate the halls. I’m sure that my friends can hear my heart pounding like base on the radio, but they still look at me as their leader. “Does everyone get the plan?” A chorus of ‘yeahs’ give me my answer. We do are secret handshake, and head for the bullies rooms.
I am nervous. Did it work? I sure hope that we don’t get ratted out by that custodian. Here they come. The bullies have brown paint all over their skin so that they look African. with our school uniforms they can’t hide their new skin tone. The laughing was music to my ears. I know it was not the right thing to do, but it sure felt good.
The white kids never even thought about disrespecting us again, and the custodian kept his word. I made a few friends and as far as I was concerned the world was at peace. But the whole world is someone else’s problem to deal with. My sister is safe.
The following story is Molly B’s winning entry:
Jamie
Jamie was a short and petite girl in the 4th grade, who was constantly judged by the dark color of her skin. Jamie was in a class where she was bullied by people both physically and mentally because she was different. Jamie would go home, most days, to her mom and dad with cuts and bruises.
One day in class, Jamie’s teacher Mrs. Turpin asked a question and she raised her hand to answer. Mrs. Turpin called on Jamie and she answered the question incorrectly, which made everyone start laughing. All except one girl named Violet, who just looked at Jamie with sympathy.
Violet was also small, never talked, and always sat by herself at lunch. The two girls were the same, yet different in many ways. Violet had short brown hair and a brother and two sisters who went to school with her. They were one year older and never talked to her, it was like they didn’t want to be seen with her. Violet knew what it was like to feel unwanted.
Back in the class, the teacher quieted the class down and called on someone else who also got it wrong but no one laughed. Jamie knew that she was treated different because of the color of her skin, but was to scared to do anything about being bullied. When Jamie’s parents asked
about the cuts, she just told them that she fell off the monkey bars and they bought it just fine.
One day when the kids were physically bullying her, she saw Violet just sitting there watching. Then she stood up, after the bullies walked off and walked inside the classroom. Jamie was wondering what she was doing, so she followed her inside the classroom . She was surprised to just see Violet and the teacher talking. Jamie looked as they turned their heads. Mrs. Turpin looked at Jamie and said,
“Is this true Jamie?”
Jamie looked at the ground.
“Jamie, why haven’t you come and talked to me about this?” “Please so not tell my mama and papa!” Jamie said.
All of the sudden the bell rang and all the students ran in tumbling over Jamie, causing her to fall to the floor. Mrs. Turpin ran over to help her up. Jamie wiped the dirt off her dress, onto the floor. Mrs. Turpin walked Jamie over to her table, and helped her sit down. As soon as Mrs. Turpin turned away Jamie started to cry. Everyone laughed as Jaimie ran to Mrs. Turpin. She instructed Jamie to the door and told her to go to the office. Jamie ran out the door stumbling and crying.
When Jaimie was sitting in the office, Violet walked in. She went over to Jamie and handed her her coat and folders. Jamie wiped the tears off her face, smiled and said,
“Thank you.”
“Your welcome!” Violet said as she sat down.
The two girls talked and laughed together until the bell rang. Two minutes later Mrs. Turpin walked in and talked to the girls for a few minutes. Then later Jamie’s mom and dad walked in. They looked at Jamie talking to Violet and they smiled at each other. Jamie ran to her mom and dad and hugged them. Mrs. Turpin leaned toward the break room and Jamie’s mom and dad followed her into the room where they all started talking. Meanwhile, Jamie and Violet stared talking some more in the office. A few minutes later they walked out of the room and they looked at Jamie and Violet and smiled again.
Jamie and Violet became the best of friends and Jamie realized that not everyone will always judge her by the color of her skin. Real friends will judge her by what’s on they inside, and that person is pretty great.