Hi,
(This story is a little long but I hope you will bare it with me)
A couple days ago I was watching a clip from a show that featured a teacher bullying a student and it reminded me of a middle school teacher I had who I'll call Mr. Smith.
For context: In middle school I was one of the only black kids at a predominantly Hispanic school. I was also the standard "type A overachiever" where grades that don't mean anything anymore meant everything to me at the time.
Mr. Smith was my orchestra teacher for a year and he was black. Our relationship started off okay, but overtime it became weird. Mr. Smith was new and he never played a string instrument (he had a woodwind background) and he made a bunch of confusing changes to his teaching style that often didn't make any sense. The kids in my section were the troublemakers of the class who often made fun of the class and disrespected Mr. Smith. While I tried to distance myself from this, Mr. Smith would lump me in with them and reprimand us. Now it such be known that EVERYONE who knew me, knew me to be "goody-goody" (yeah I know it's not a good term) and a "total teacher's pet" so a teacher reprimanding me threw me for a loop and oftentimes I would talkback and try to defend myself or I would ignore him when he was talking AT me (probably not my finest moment). A few people in my section dropped his class when we questioned him on style changes. I stayed because I loved playing my instrument and I wasn't a "quitter."
What got weird: we were prepping for all-state festival and the people in my section were getting rowdy. Mr. Smith warned our section a couple of times to stop talking and one of the guys continued to make jokes that everyone in my section laughed at and I would just smiled and shake my head. Mind you I was quiet and trying to pay attention to Mr. Smith but I guess that wasn't enough. Mr. Smith got angry and kicked my section out and I watched everyone leave. Then he pointed me and told me to leave too. When I tried to defend myself, he didn't want to hear it. He further banned us from going to the festival and didn't tell us that it would affect our grade. I had no idea what to do and wondered if I should have waited after class to talk to him again by now it was spring (March/April probably) and honestly after everything he put me through, I was tired of arguing with him.
A week later, I was having my student-parent-teacher conference and my advisor's room is next to his (we can see his classroom through a window). He sees us having our conference and at the middle end of the conference he interrupts our discussion. Throughout the conference when I first saw he smiling at me through the window, I had a sinking pit in my stomach like I knew something was going to happen. Now my advisor has no idea what's going on and assumed that he was coming over to sing praises especially after my conference was going well with "Her grades are outstanding and all of her teachers love her!" Well...not all because this man proceeds to tell my father how bad of a student I've been all year: rolling my eyes (which I NEVER DO), disrespecting him by questioning his method of teaching (which I admit to doing but not out of disrespect), and so many other things that I NEVER DID. I was in shock. My dad was in shock. My advisor was in shock. By the time he was done listing his accusations, I was sobbing and blubbering like a baby. I was so upset that I couldn't defend myself correctly and when I denied some of his accusations I just looked guilty. I ended getting up and walking away with my advisor while my dad finished talking to him. I'll never forget the disappointed lectures I received from my dad and the apology letter I was forced to write. I come from an African spanking household and over time my dad stopped spanking me when I was 10 because for the most part there wasn't any need. This was one of those times where my dad was so disgusted with my behavior, but chose not to spank me because he just didn't understand the situation.
My dad and Mr. Smith evidently decided that we start the next semester off fresh.
When I asked other kids in my section if Mr. Smith had interrupted their conferences they said no. When they found out what he did to mine they were shocked especially since they knew that I didn't intentionally cause trouble.
Most importantly, at my school teachers DON'T interrupt other teacher conferences like that. Other students who found out actively sought me out to tell me that was "messed up."
But it's fine I swallowed my pride and kept my head down for another week. But everything changed the Friday I received my quarter grades. Mind you, my grades meant everything to me back then. And of course:
The man failed me.
It was funny seeing my grades because it was:
A+ A+ A F A+ A. I just stared at my orchestra grade and finally lost it. I remember my soul leaving my body when told my science teacher that I had leave in the middle of class and walked down to the orchestra room. Mr. Smith was there and he had the nerve to smile when I asked him what was going on. He told me that since I didn't go the festival I failed. I told him that I wanted to go but he didn't let me and that it's not on his grading syballus. He said that it expected that the festival would be 90% of grade. Well...THAT WASN'T ON THE SYBALLUS and I wanted to go! We went back and forth until I gave up and asked if there was anything I could do to make up my grade. He said no and that it's all in the past and we can proceed to do as we discussed before and "start over for the last semester." I said "Yeah, no I don't think we can" and left.
I went down to the office and asked for the Vice-Principal, Ms. Linda who I assisted in the past as an office aide. I told Ms. Linda everything and she had me drop his class and told me she would look into everything. Ms. Linda was notorious for being a mean Vice-Principal but that woman went to bat for me. I found out later she and many of the teachers I had from 6th-8th grade wrote short statements in support for my grade removal in the course and I became a teacher's aide in place of orchestra.
I still played in the school Jazz band taught by my advisor and Mr. Smith (who was too pissed to even speak to me) forced me to bring back my borrowed instrument from home even though I still needed it to practice. When I asked why since there were so many instruments in storage, my advisor wouldn't look at me and said "Mr. Smith says he needs it for other students."
Fine, then mitch there you go.
The last time I saw him was my 8th grade graduation when I was fake smiling and shaking his hand after winning 2 awards and being announced as a co-valedictorian. He was not happy. I still wonder what Ms. Linda said to him, but I'll never know I'm just grateful to her.
Note: Idk if this has holds any weight, but my dad mentioned to me during that "I'm so disappointed in you" drive home that like me, Mr. Smith is first generation African American (we are not from the same African countries) and that he felt "duty bound" to let my dad know or something like that.
And umm...Mr. Smith's wife is white, which is fine but has made me wonder overtime:
Was I a victim of internalized racism or a possible internalized Microaggressive situation or am I overdramatizing the whole thing?
Edited: It's often a story that makes me reflect on the perception of my behavior and makes me doubt myself like what did I do to make this man hate me enough to do all that?