The Memory Fades Slowly by Martha

More than fifty years have passed since my high school days. Periodically I go back to my high school for different presentations and each time I look for any changes that might have been made.

One thing that remains the same in my memory is the very large auditorium and the stage with double curtains that remind you of Carnegie Hall or a Broadway stage. It was and still is very impressive.

Recently I went there to a Martin Luther King Jr. celebration and found out that the Olympic size pool was no longer there and the lunchroom was in the basement. During my three years there (I came from Jr. High) the lunchroom was on the top floor, fifth I think and the pool was in the basement.

I remember how the lunch bell would ring and you would have to get up all those stairs fast to avoid being on the end of a very long lunch line. On this particular day, I remember racing up the stairs, rushing in the lunch room with many others and getting in line. Suddenly I was accused by a male teacher. I did not know him and now I cannot even remember his name. “Get out of that line” he said “and go to the back. I saw you break into that line”. I was indignant, still breathing heavy after the race up the stairs. “I did not” I said, “You are a liar!” “What did you say” he said. By now a crowd was gathering and I was embarrassed while also feeling obliged to say something profound. “You are full of shit and you don’t eat regular either” I shot back; this was on of the hip street saying of the day. I was not one who used profanity normally, but now I was on stage. The teacher grabbed my arm and took me out of the line.

We went down to the principal’s office where Mr. Mole teacher told his story. My memory of the principal, Ms. Ficks was that of a Caucasian woman with crimped style waves in her hair (we use to call it crookinal (sp) waves, or was a cropped style? May be she was not even tall because at fifteen years of age, I was barely five feet, but I digress.

The teacher listened to Mr. Mole teacher’s version of the incident and then told me to go home and not come back unless my parent was with me. I even got the impression that Ms. Ficks was sorry that she cold not put me out of school permanently. (Remember I was fifteen). I was flabbergasted because I had not yet said a word. “Wait I said, is that the end of it? Don’t I get to tell my side o the story? That is not a sign of Democracy."

As memory fades, I can no longer clearly remember the names and faces of the teacher or the principal, but I will forever remember what the principal’s response was. “Young lady” she said as she straightened up to her full height, “If this (school) was not a democracy, you would not even be here”. And with that remark, she opened a door that I did not know existed and I found myself outside on the street.

I was stunned! What was she talking about? I would not even be there. It was not my grades. My grades were fine. I did not have a problem with tardiness. Then it hit me the letters R.A.C.E. loomed large in front of me. Even though I was among just a handful of Blacks in the school, I nor m friends had no avert incidents of racism, but there it was. I was outside in bright sunshine but the day was suddenly dark and tears stung my eyes.

I started to walk home slowly. I don’t remember seeing people on the street; I was so deep in thought. What was I to do? I could not tell my mother. Even if I told her about the principal being a bigot she would never understand in being disrespectful of using profanity to the male teacher.


Besides, she could not afford to take off from work to come to the school. I went home and later called one of my older sister friends. She must have been all of eighteen years at the time. She agreed to come to school with me and pose as my aunt. I don’t remember the particulars but without much question I was reinstated. Like I said the memory fades slowly, but I guess I should thank Ms. Ficks because that incident changed my life. From that day she intimidated that I should “stay in my place”. I stood up for myself and other women’s right. It has made me the assertive, politically and socially active, independent woman I am today.