EVALUATING EDUCATION

J. MALAIKA PATHIRANA

     The relationship between students and teachers and the students 
themselves should be an enriching and learning experience throughout 
their entire school years.  Especially between students and teachers of 
different ethnic cultures.  Because we, the American society, have an 
opportunity to educate ourselves, literally, about other races and cultures 
through the school system. Learning about each other’s heritages, food 
and religious beliefs should be a golden opportunity that is treasured 
throughout one's lifetime.  If the educators, particularly the instructors at 
the primary level, would take the time and initiative to include a time 
of cultural awareness, there would be more understanding among the races 
and among each other as we grow older.
     Ignorance about human beings who are of a difference race could 
have severe consequences upon a child.  I continue to hear the same stories 
from children who experience racist overtones from the caucasian students 
and teachers.  The stories sound all too familiar to me, even though it has been 
twenty years since I was at the primary level.  However, things are changing 
a little within the school system.  For example, recognition that young girls are 
basically ignored in the math and science classes, and that boys are always 
called upon and encouraged to do well in these subjects.  By the time these 
two genders reach high school, the girls are not as well versed in the science 
or math subjects.  Imagine what the "minority" children must feel, whether 
they are female or male.
     During the early 1970s, a time when my primary education was just 
beginning, a time when the United States had just come out of the Civil Rights 
era, the John F. Kennedy era and the flower child/Haight-Ashbury era, one 
particular year stands out in my mind very clearly, third grade.
I will never forget 1973. I had entered third grade at an all-white private 
school in Dallas, Texas.  I was the first black child to break the color barrier 
at this particular school.  Before entering this school, I had a choice of attending 
Hockey Day, an exclusive private school for girls, or Kiest-Polk Private School, a 
school attended by lower to middle-class whites.  Unfortunately, I chose 
Kiest-Polk.  Because I saw a brief excerpt of a hockey game on a television 
news program, the thought of being massacred and beatened by people in 
oversized uniforms with huge sticks did not appeal to me.  This, I thought, 
would happen to me if I attended the Hockey Day school. MY mother DID 
say the students wore uniforms.
Nevertheless, third grade was truly an eye-opener for me at Kiest-Polk.  
The entire school was of European descent, and it was operated by a 
husband-wife team, Mr. and Mrs. Mayes, and an athletic instructor, whom 
everyone called "Coach" (I never knew his real name).  He was either the 
son-in-law or the son of Mr. and Mrs. Mayes.  The only African-looking faces I 
saw were the cooks, who luckily gave me special treatment when they saw me 
during lunch time.  This made my life a little easier when I first arrived because 
no one at the school would communicate with me.
     Upon my first day of class, I do not remember being afraid or crying 
hysterically for my mother.  I was there to learn and do well in school and 
eventually go to college...that was my goal.  Maybe I was not afraid because 
after seeing white faces on television, I thought anyone who looked like that 
was a celebrity, but I found out quickly that this was not true--these people 
were definitely not celebrities.  The first week or so of class, no one would speak 
to me.  At recess, I would sit on the bench and watch everyone have a 
good 'ole time...talking, playing, laughing...it seemed wonderful.  The main 
sport here was soccer.  And the main person who was the "King of Soccer" 
was Michael Moore.  I thought, since this guy was so popular maybe he would 
be nice and show me how the game was played, then I would be accepted and 
be one of them.  One day, while standing innocently watching the game, the 
soccer ball happened to come over in my direction.  I thought, "Now they have to 
talk to me because I am giving them their ball."  Unfortunately, after quickly 
retrieving the ball for them with a smile that would light a candle, and expecting 
a "Thank you," I immediately received a surprise strike in the mid-section 
of my stomach by this "King of Soccer."  Everything was turned into slow 
motion.  I dropped the ball, fell to the ground onto my side holding my stomach.  
I could not breathe, I knew I was going to die, it was the most unexplained and 
most frightening experience of my eight years of life on this planet.  
What had happened?  What did I do?  No one came to my rescue...no teacher, 
no monitor, no student.  Where was my mother?!?!  I wanted to see her before 
I died.	Luckily I survived.  A few hours later, my mother finally came to pick me 
up.  I told her what had happened.  Of course she made her formal debut with 
Mr. and Mrs. Myers but there was no harsh punishment against Michael Moore. 
A suspension for a few days (most likely unrecorded) and that was it. 

     The next incident involved my third grade teacher who was supposed 
to be instructing us in the rudiments of reading, writing and arithmetic.  She seemed 
like a terrific teacher toward the other students, so I decided to raise my hand and 
ask for personal assistance on an English problem.  When she saw me raise my 
hand, she had a look of uneasiness and fright.  Ignoring this physical defect of 
hers, I went up to her with my assignment in hand and stood next to her 
because I wanted to understand fully what she had to explain to me.  I apparently 
got too close and she begin to quiver when I got more than a quarter inch next to 
her.  I thought to myself, "Boy, I have the power!"  This went on for a few days 
and I quickly got bored with her actions.  I wanted her to teach me and not be 
afraid of me.  At one point I forgot how close I was, and she literally ran out 
of the classroom crying.  I never saw her again.  We got a new teacher, of course, 
but this incident made me evaluate myself closely as a human being.  Am I 
that animalistic? Am I too ugly for words? Am I not human?
     There was also another incident in the fourth grade where I was told 
by my teacher that "Blacks have a hard time understanding and learning because 
they cannot hear."  I thought this was true and told my mother about our defect.  
     I am sure you can imagine what my mother did after I told her this ridiculous myth.
Today, race is still an issue, but also included is homelessness and 
AIDS.  If teachers of today are not equipped to handle the present issues and 
face facts, the world of tomorrow will not be a better one.  The mental 
destruction of that small mind is a terrible thing to see, especially when it 
involves our future generation.
     Hopefully, the education system regarding instructors has changed 
since my day.  Hopefully, instructors are more educated about the different 
cultures and mix we have in our society and do not stereotype or fear these 
children of color.  Is this not America, the land of the "melting pot?"

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