I was an only child growing up during the Harlem renaissance in the 1930's. It was a time to
experience fun with friends and to learn about the joys and cruelties of life.
	I remember my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Conway. She was a tall, heavyset woman with a white
freckled face and red hair. She smiled readily but made homely facial grimaces when she was displeased.
She usually dressed in dowdy old-fashioned clothes in earth tones reminiscent of a cold dreary day.
Her high-pitched voice resonated throughout the room when we little ones made a mistake in arithmetic or
spelling. “Haven’t I told you that an “E” precedes an “I” in the word “receive?” We would all begin
erasing frantically. “Stop erasing,” she would shout. “I don’t want any smudge work.”
	In the beginning of class, she would charge into the room with a no nonsense attitude reflected in
her harsh tones. “Get into your seats, you little monsters. You are here to learn, not to talk all day.” As
expected, she was not one of our favorite teachers since her unpredictable moods and threatening demeanor
kept us in line.
	Our geography lesson began during a beautiful spring day with the sun shining brightly in the
classroom. Mrs. Conway said, “We are now going to study lands far and near identifying where your
parents came from. You are to come up front to the map and point out the country of your parents. Who
wants to go first?”
	All hands shot into the air. Irvin was the first to take the plunge and said proudly, “My parents are
from Italy.”
	“And what is Italy known for?” queried the teacher in a tender loving voice.
	“It is known for spaghetti and tomatoes and the Pope lives there.”
	“Very good, Irvin,” said the teacher. “Now come and show us where Italy is on the map.”
	He went to the board where a large map was posted and with little effort, found the country shaped
like a boot. He then sat down with a broad grin on his face.
	“Who wants to be next?”
	All hands were raised again. Mrs. Conway selected HoChung, a petite, soft-spoken child with
beautiful penmanship. “And where are your parents from, HoChung?”
	“My parents are from China,” she answered in a whisper barely audible.
	“What is China known for HoChung?” asked the teacher.
	“China is known for tea, Chinese food, and it is one of the oldest countries in the world.”
	“Wonderful, HoChung. Would you come and show us on the map where China is?” asked the
teacher.
	HoChung who was a model student, went to the board where the map hung and pointed to a large
area in Asia known as China. HoChung received a warm hug from the teacher and everyone was pleased.
	“Who wants to be next?”
	All hands were raised waving excitedly to get Mrs. Conway’s attention. The teacher pointed to
Brian and asked, “Where are your parents from, Brian?”
	“Ireland,” he answered sticking his chest out proudly.
	Mrs. Conway beamed as she continued to query, “What is Ireland known for, Brian?”
	It is known for corned beef and cabbage and potatoes grown in beautiful green fields. My mother
said so.”
	“Well said, Brian. Now show us Ireland on the map.”
	He walked up to the front of the class room and pointed immediately to Ireland.
	“Excellent, Brian,” said Mrs. Conway.
	He returned to his seat with the same broad smile and knew he would receive an A.
	“And who is going to be next?”
	Hands were raised again as students stood up to gain the teachers attention.
	Mrs. Conway finally selected me. “Okay, Dorothy. Where are your parents from?”
	Assuredly, as the only African American in the classroom, I answered, Barbados, British West
Indies.”
	Mrs. Conway’s demeanor changed immediately. She made a facial grimace, her eyes squinted,
and she pointed her finger at me in sheer annoyance and said, “I want you to remember that your family
originated in Africa. Don’t you ever forget it. Africa is the place where our text books show people running
around half naked with spears,” she asserted.
	I was bewildered since my family had only great things to say about Barbados – the beautiful
white sand beaches and the stately women dressed in colorful prints who walked in elegance with fruit
baskets on their heads . I had never heard about spears and nude people. My classmates began to snicker.
The teacher looked at me with cold piercing eyes. I never had a chance to tell all the good things about
Barbados – the delicious spicy food, flying fish fried crisp and tender, the beautiful blue sea or to show its
location on the map. Feeling completely dejected and humiliated, I sank back in my seat in painful silence
as I heard Mrs. Conway say, “Who will be next.”