Chapter 1

I was so scared I could hardly breathe. It wasn't just that I had recently graduated from college and was on my way to my first day of work as a teacher, although that was certainly a large part of it. I hate to admit this about myself, but I am from a well off, well, very upper middle class background and until I came to interview for this position at the absolute last school I would have chosen to teach in, I had probably never seen more than two or three black people together in one place. It was embarrassing. I know it's wrong. I can't help it. But I am very intimidated by large, surly, young, black males.

If it were up to me I would have been teaching third or fourth grade in a nice, upper middle class school. That is how I had always seen myself. Completely in charge in a classroom full of respectful, well dressed, well behaved, white, eight or nine year old children.

There were several reasons why I was about to start teaching in this loud, dirty, overcrowded school full of belligerent teenagers not much younger than me. And those reasons were all on me.

I had the education that I needed, though I had let my grades slip and in the end I had just squeaked by. One reason that my options were so limited was that I had been engaged and when we broke up at the start of my last year of college I was devastated for a long time and it was hard for me to concentrate on my studies.

Another reason was that I counted on help finding a good position from my influential father. But my father and I weren't talking now. We have not spoken to each other in more than six months. That's my fault, too. But I don't want to go into that right now. He continued to pay for my education and my living expenses at the end. But as soon as I got my diploma I was on my own. He didn't even attend my graduation!

My final grades had been poor. And I waited until the very last moment to apply for a position. Now I was paying the price for being spoiled rotten all of my life. I was broke and I had no other options. This was the job of last resort. This was the only position that was offered to me. I was about to start teaching ninth and tenth grade English to a classroom full of rowdy teenagers that for the most part sneered at education and couldn't care less about English. After all, they hardly spoke it!

It didn't help that I was a very attractive blonde with a very sexy body and that my students and I were almost the same age. I hadn't even been in the classroom with them yet. But I knew that they were going to sense my fear.

I kept telling myself that it was time for me to grow up and face my fears. It was time and past time for me to take responsibility for myself. But god! If only I could breathe! I kept telling myself that it would be a good experience for me. I didn't believe me.

I made my way through the throng of young black students outside of the school and tried to ignore the crude remarks that followed me all the way into the building. I knew that my face was bright red and that every one of those kids knew that I was afraid of them.

More than once as I struggled through the crowd, making my way to the front door of the school, I felt a hand slide down over my butt. I had no idea how to react. I only knew that if I stopped and said anything they would laugh in my face. I had to reach the door and get out of this mob. I couldn't have been more scared if I was walking across a prison yard.

I was so scared, and so upset with myself because I couldn't control my fear, that I had to fight desperately to hold back the tears. I knew that it would be all over if I broke down in front of them and cried. I finally arrived at the door and the big black security guard at the door saw right away that I was not one of the students. He opened the door and let me in. I tried not to see the leer on his face, the smirk as his eyes wandered over my body. I didn't need ESP to know what he was thinking. I was used to being ogled by the males with whom I came into contact. But not so blatantly or so inappropriately.

I ignored the rude guard, just as I ignored the throng outside. I brushed past him and rushed to the office and checked in. I picked up my schedule and my attendance forms and tried not to see the looks on the faces of the staff. I knew what they were thinking. They knew I was out of place here and they didn't think I'd last a whole day.

I was beginning to think that they were right. Except for one thing, I had no choice. I had to make it through the day. I had to make it through the year. If I could just survive one year in this prison-like school then I could apply for something else, anything else, anywhere else. I had to do this. I had to do it so that I could rub my father's nose in it. This was my Declaration of Independence.

I left the office without even speaking to anyone. I had not seen another white face since I got out of my car. I wondered if I was the only white person in this entire school. I had already met the principal and his assistant and they were both very nice gentlemen. They were black. Everyone in the office was black. All of the students that I had seen were black.

When he interviewed me for the job the principal had been very skeptical. He really didn't think that I could handle working here. But he was having as much trouble getting qualified teachers as I was having finding a position to accept me. He had no choice but to give me a chance and I had no choice but to take it.

I walked quickly through the empty hallway to my classroom. My heels echoed loudly as I hurried to the room where I would be expected to educate and maintain order. I had been coming in for a week now, getting ready. I had my lesson plans made out. I had my teaching aids ready. But I was terrified of what was going to come out of my mouth the first time I tried to speak in front of the class.

I wrote my name in flowing script on the blackboard and prepared for my first class. I had my lesson plan ready and the attendance sheet on my desk and now I was trying very hard to regulate my breathing and not pass out from fear.

I jumped when the bell rang and in seconds the hallways were filled with the noise from hundreds of screaming, all but out of control teenagers. I stood behind my desk and watched as the students in my first class came filing in. They were loud and rowdy and they were using horrible language, when I could understand them at all. They stared at me as if I was food and they hadn't eaten in a week. I tried to ignore their behavior, hoping that when the bell rang they would all suddenly settle down and pay attention. I knew that wouldn't happen. But I could hope.

Only half of them were seated when the bell rang. The others were standing around talking loudly to their friends and totally ignoring me. I went over and closed the door and asked everyone to take their seats. I heard myself talking to them and even I thought that I sounded like a terrified little girl.

I tried again, louder this time and slowly, a few at a time they started sitting down. One of the last ones standing was one of the larger, rowdier boys. He stopped talking finally and turned to face me with a sneer on his face. I tried to stare him down but he won that battle before it even started.

He smirked at me. Then, after pausing long enough that everyone knew who was really in charge, he walked to the front of the room. I didn't know what he had in mind but I was so scared that I almost ran from the room.

He walked up to a boy that was seated in the first row, right in front of where I would stand when I was teaching. He popped the boy on the back of his head and said, "Get up, dude. I want to sit up front so I can be teacher's pet."

Everyone seemed to find that amusing. Even the boy who was forced to give up his seat chuckled and got up. This was apparently someone who was used to getting what he wanted. He was big and he was scary and he was much more in control of what happened in this room than I was. I was terrified and this situation was out of my control. Every person in the room knew it.

I introduced myself and then I took attendance. I had to keep asking for quiet but by the time I had finished with the attendance my voice had almost stopped quaking in fear.

All in all it was a horrible experience. I constantly had to ask them to quiet down and sit down. Every statement, every answer, every question out of those boy's mouths, and most of the girls too, was some sort of double entendre, dripping with sexual innuendo.

I struggled through that first class and the next and the next until finally it was lunch hour. I closed my door and got out my lunch. I sat at my desk, put my head in my hands and cried for the longest time. I had no idea how I could continue to do this. I only knew that I had no choice. I had nothing to fall back on.

I finally pulled myself together and repaired my make-up. I stared at my lunch for a few minutes but I couldn't eat. I put it away. I sat waiting for the terror to begin again. I told myself that it would get better. A week from now I would be used to this and I would know the kids and it would just be a job. I didn't believe me, but that was what I kept telling myself.

It wasn't any better in the afternoon. I gathered from the remarks I kept overhearing that I was a major topic of discussion in the school. The boys were all checking me out, leering, making off color remarks. I wanted nothing more than to rush home after my final class and hide in my closet, curl up in the dark on the floor and cry.

As the last class of the day was filing out of the room the principal came in to my classroom and asked how bad my first day had been.

I shrugged and pointed out that I had survived. It had been rough. But I guess it would have been rough anywhere. It was my first day in my first class out of college. I had expected it to be difficult. Maybe not this difficult, I was not as strong willed a person as I thought I was. I had made it all the way through the first day, though. I just had to try not to think of how many more days there were between now and the end of the school year.

The principal, Mr. Wigfall, gave me a little pep talk and then he left. I dropped my attendance records off in the office and headed out to my car. I noticed that the teachers were in just as big a hurry to leave at the end of the day as the students. My talk with Mr. Wigfall had held me up long enough that mine was one of the few cars left in the employee parking area.

As I walked across the nearly empty lot I was suddenly surrounded by a pack of large boys. They walked with me towards my car and I didn't know what to do. They weren't touching me or threatening me. They were not even talking among themselves. But the silence was ominous. I glanced around nervously. Some of them looked familiar from my classes. But I can't really say that I recognized them.