"Black or White?"

By Senzela Saidi

Adolescence is a time in everyone's life when you turn in your crimson-colored spectacles of childhood and receive your first look into the world of reality. When I removed mine, I awoke in a foreign state, away from the comforts of old friends and familiar streets. I was trapped in an isolated, small town at the peak of a major change in my life where everything and everyone was different with strange ideas, yet I was the one who was labeled a stranger. The thing about a small town is that if you aren't like everyone else, then you're different; I didn't know that was a bad thing until I moved into Eldorado, Arkansas.

"Are you black or white?"

"What?" I replied when I first heard the question.

"What are you?" the girl repeated again, with attitude and curiosity. The sun tortured the earth with its rays, causing beads of sweat to form over her brow and run down her temple while she threw me a look of superiority. She was round with stern black eyes and three thick braids sprouting from her head. Her friends stood around her, their scrutinizing eyes piercing through me, too.

"Human," I said.

Insulted or puzzled by the response, they all paused and exchanged questioning glances. I tried to ignore them and prayed for the bell to ring so that I could escape further interrogation. It was only my first day in the seventh grade, and my usually positive outlook had already been shattered into a thousand pieces.

I know most people don't know a lot of Afghans, and I even understand that Eldorado, being a small and desolate town, doesn't have a very big multicultural community, but I just couldn't understand what was so amazingly bizarre about me. I couldn't help but feeling odd and alienated. I kept to myself for the rest of that day, and for many after, and as a result I became shy. I felt like an outsider, and I brought my grades down with me. I spent most of the seventh grade that way, an outcast from the student body. But the students weren't the only ones who influenced this behavior. Even teachers seemed to encourage it by not giving any sense of welcome or comfort. I was going through a hard enough time in my life without having to deal with the ridicule of everyone else. I became extremely depressed. School became a dreaded responsibility, and each day I hated having to face it. They all eventually convinced me that they were right, that I didn't belong in Eldorado, and I longed for the chance to leave.

I began the eighth grade roughly the same way I started the year before, quiet and very dejected. The only difference was the small amount of comfort knowing that it would be my last year of Barton Middle School and my last year of Eldorado all together. What I didn't know was that it would be the year that would introduce me to one of the most influential teachers I would ever get.

Mr. Moore was the Environmental Science teacher at Barton Middle School. He was tall and skinny, with short, wild hair that seemed as if it were cursed with a plague of static electricity. At the beginning of the year I really didn't care how I did in school, but Mr. Moore had some sort of passion for teaching and a way of getting through to students. I liked the way he treated us. He was the sort of teacher who actually taught his students instead of just grading them. He was also the type of teacher who would get involved if the student needed it.

One day when I was unusually down, he pulled me aside when the bell rang for dismissal. He then asked me, "Is everything okay in your life?" He inspected me with deep, concerned eyes. Taken aback by his genuine concern, I looked back at him and started to cry. For the first time in what felt like forever, I actually felt as if someone cared about me. I wasn't sure of what to tell him. I tried to assure him that I would be all right, but he took me by the arms and told me that he would be there if I ever needed to talk. I don't know if he realized that what he just did was enough. I wanted to pour my heart out to him, but I also had a sense that he already knew what was bothering me. His friendship saved me. He showed me that as long as I can be true to myself, everyone else didn't matter. His heart was strong and true, and I was lucky enough to have encountered it.

Since then, I became more open and cared less of what other people thought. I grew confident and carried that confidence with me into my other classes. I passed the year with ease, and finally I made it to the last day of school. I then realized that at last I was leaving Barton Middle School forever. The school that tormented me within its walls, the year that lead me and other students through one of the most difficult times of our lives were soon to be history. As I was going through the halls for the last and final time, Mr. Moore came up to me. He looked me in the eyes, and I saw the devotion and love they held. He embraced me in one last hug. Not even knowing it at the time, Mr. Moore saved me.