“I hate that teacher!”
Mrs. Polemane sighed. “Daniel, she says you’re late every single day and it’s getting worse.”
“Well, every time I come in, she stops everything and makes fun of me in front of all the other kids!”
“You’re telling me you’re late because she embarrasses you so much you put off going in.”
His black hair didn’t stir at his nod.
“Well, what can we do? She doesn’t like your being late, so she tries to make it so unpleasant for you that you’ll come on time. On the other hand, instead of taking the hint, you just come later because you know you’re going to have a bad experience.” Was he getting all this? She wondered how Miss Mays would have treated a blue-eyed boy who was late.
“I hate her! She hates me back!”
“Oh, Daniel, she doesn’t hate you. It’s just that she gets annoyed because she has to make a special effort for one student every morning, just when she’s gotten everybody else at work. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“Yeah, but she’s mean. She got no call to make fun of my clothes and tell everybody I take charity lunch!”
So it was that bad. Mrs. Polemane sighed again wondering if she could communicate to Miss Mays the feeling that it was a miracle Daniel came to school at all, considering the mess at home. If she’d ever had his older brother or sisters, she’d give a cheer whenever he showed up. “Daniel, I can see to it that your teacher doesn’t make fun of you any more, but you’ve got to get to school on time. I’ll have a talk with your mother about helping you.” Lies. She knew his mother wouldn’t be conscious enough to help him. She knew the persecution would just get more subtle. All she could do was suppress some of the symptoms. Nothing she could do would cure bone deep anger pitted against unconscious prejudice.