You Made A Mistake, You Aren't The Mistake

I dont feel like coming up with anything original because I'm about to leave, but you can take a look at a small story from my big life. Enjoy!


    In Henry Louis Gate Jr’s passage, “What’s in a Name”, Henry’s father chose not to speak out against the ignorance of Mr. Wilson’s choice to call him George. It took a lot of maturity and dignity for Henry’s father not to call Mr. Wilson out for his racist comment and to turn the other cheek during his time. I have also been in a similar situation that caused me to withhold my true feelings from being voiced during a time of conflict.
    In 10th grade, I attended a prestigious private high school in Towson, Maryland called Loyola Blakefield. From my navy blue blazer, to my collared shirt with a quirky tie, anyone could tell that I was an ambitious sophomore with decent grades, but I did have a familiar seat in the disciplinary office and a track record steadily growing. My hardest subject during that time was Chemistry. I didn’t understand science and formulas, but the real reason I didn’t comprehend the subject was because of my devious teacher, Ms. Okieffe. She was a dark skinned, average height Trinidadian woman who despised me for some unknown reason. One particular day, I was packing up my books, getting ready to leave class and my friend David entered. He came in to sit in his seat for the next class and started up some small chit-chat with me. Barely 15 seconds in, Ms. Okieffe busted into our conversation and said “David, don’t talk to him. His failing habits may rub off on you.”  As you know, I definitely took offense to this and with my loose cannon nature, I said back, “What did you say!?”, instantly losing my temper in a quick moment. She responded, “What? You not going to talk to me like that! Who do you think you are?! I am the teacher, you are the student…a failing student at that! You must be on crack or something to come at me like that.” As David watches this scene unfold, my brain automatically came up with an unlimited amount of degrading comments to retort back at her ranging from her water sack neck, her obese weight, and even to her receding hairline, but I didn’t say anything back. I knew I wasn’t in good standings with the school officials to lose this battle with my words, so I said nothing back and just exited the classroom. I spoke with my advisor about the incident and he told me that I did the right thing to just leave and not say anything. He switched my Chemistry class because she had kicked me out of her classroom roster after the event and put me in another Chemistry class that had my best friends in it. She was reprimanded for her actions and I ended up passing Chemistry with a B-.
    Recounting my own story of a time when I restrained myself from voicing my opinion, I see that sometimes the best way to express how you feel about something is to not say anything at all.
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Later Days