[Si] TV

          The only person dark as me is the lunch lady.  They assume she is my mom, aunt, older sister or cousin because our skin color matches. I avoid eye contact with her for that very reason.  If people see us talking, it will definitely convince them we are related.  As much as I would like to speak to her, I don’t.  She wears an apron like one of my aunties, with a permanent stain on it, in the shape of Africa.   She’s a short little lady who is comfortable telling rich white kids to Hurry up!, Get your food!, Keep the line moving!.  She says it with a sense of urgency, as if her job is on the line, especially on days they serve pizza.           

           Jessie Jackson is running for President of the United States.  His picture is all over televisions, newspapers, and magazines.  He is the focus of our current events.   The same students who call me springs ask if he’s my daddy or assume I know him.  They swear that I want Jessie Jackson to be the President because we are both black.  I swear to them I don’t, for the fear that he will be assassinated like Dr. King.           

 Three little white girls said I was cute for a black person.  It took me three hours to realize it was an insult.           

I try my best to fit in, although I never will.  I just gotta get these A’s and B’s because momma don’t allow C’s.   She treats them like F’s.  So I learn math, history, science, current events, and how to answer questions after I read something.  I learn from the senior citizens how to tell stories.   I eat my free lunch and play at lunch-recess.  I turn the other cheek until my neck hurt, until it makes the crack sound.  There are only so many ha ha chuckles a 4^th grader can do in a day. 

I can’t wait to get back to my neighborhood where people say aint like me.  I meet momma at the rear parking lot of the school, still wearing her Africa- stained apron, she drives me home in an off-white Nova.