Bad Boys: Public Schools in the Making of Black Masculinity

Chapter Five: The Real World

chapter ‹ve the real world It’s like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder How I keep from going under It’s like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder How I keep from going under Broken glass everywhere People pissing on the stairs You know they just don’t care I can’t take the smell, can’t take the noise Got no money to move out, I guess I got no choice Rats in the front room, roaches in the back Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat I tried to get away but I couldn’t get far ’Cause the man with the tow truck repossessed my car. Don’t push me ’cause I’m close to the edge I’m trying not to lose my head. Ah huh huh huh huh It’s like a jungle sometimes, it make me wonder How I keep from going under. —grandmaster flash and the furious five, “the message” It was candy, sweet, chewy, a pink and white swirl on a stick, glossy and fragrant from a big jar and offered to me for sale by a fourth-grade girl that got me thinking seriously about the meaning of rules for different groups of children in the school. Until that moment, school rules were really only words written on a piece of paper. Myelisha, a pupil in the after-school tutoring program, had pulled the jar of candy out of her backpack and asked me to buy one. “Do you have a quarter?” she asked. “They’re cheap.” I looked over my shoulder furtively. Candy in school was against the rules, and as tempted as I was by the lollipop I realized that it might be trouble for me if I was seen giving money to a fourth-grader in exchange for candy. My own approach to rule breaking, I discovered, was fearful, shifty behavior. “Here. If you don’t have the money today, I’ll give you one,” Myelisha was saying, pulling out something wrapped in red and yellow paper. “Pay me later,” she said grandly. “Careful, Myelisha, having candy is against the school rules. You should put that away until later.” I could see teachers moving around at other tables. I was afraid that one of them might dart over at any moment and seize the contraband. “Hush, Ann,” Myelisha was teasing me now in a singsong voice a smile on her face. “The teachers was the one started selling candy ‹rst. So there!” We were both right. I in the legalistic sense, paying attention to the authority of the written, the codi‹ed. One of the most concrete, straightforward of the rules listed on the poster that hung on the wall of every classroom was that no candy was allowed in school. At the same time candy was everywhere. Kids had candy in their desks, in their school packs, in their pockets. I had observed several of them ordered to spit out “whatever that is you’re eating,” followed by a ball of sugar, well-sculpted by a tongue, plummeting into the nearest wastebasket . One day, one of the boys in Mrs. Deane’s class was sent to the of‹ce because he took up too much class time as he moved from his desk to the wastebasket. Candy, having it, sharing it, eating it, and selling it, was prohibited in school. Yet for the past week, as both Myelisha and I had observed, children in various classrooms had been toting boxes of candy around and selling openly. This sales drive had been initiated by the teachers to raise money for class activities. While children were supposed to take the candy home and sell it to relatives, friends, and neighbors, teachers were ignoring efforts to make sales at school. Our tutoring sessions had been disrupted by kids pressing adults to buy, to make change, and by the banking of substantial amounts of money. The rule about candy in school had not been overturned but was being overlooked for the time being. The sale of authorized candy was now permitted, which allowed individual entrepreneurs to display their wares. Myelisha’s pro‹ts were also for a worthy cause. She informed me 102 BAD BOYS that she was selling candy in order to put on a birthday party for her mother. She wanted to buy a present and get a nice cake. Other children were...