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26 11 / A Personal Narrativ e with th e latter. One reaso n I was able to escape from th e ghett o was that I worked wit h caring , nurturing adult s who encouraged m e t o do well in school an d who provided m e with invaluabl e example s o f hard work an d discipline. The y helpe d m e believ e tha t I coul d achiev e hig h goals . Of course , th e tim e I spen t workin g wa s tim e awa y fro m schoo l an d homework, bu t I never though t I had a choice. If I didn' t work , I migh t not eat. COLORED MATTER S In the first grade , when I got into a fight a t Deschler Elementar y School , I bega n t o lear n tha t bein g classifie d a s "black " mattered . Deschle r wa s located i n wha t the n wa s a raciall y mixed , working-clas s communit y i n southeast Columbus . The schoo l was likewise mixed , with si x out of ten kids being white. My first teacher, Mrs. Hufstedler, wa s a gentle, pleasant white woma n wh o wo n award s fo r he r achievemen t i n teachin g youn g children. On e o f m y specia l friend s a t Deschle r wa s a whit e girl . W e played togethe r i n class and durin g recess. We sat near each other durin g story time . He r brother , a year older , di d no t approv e o f our friendship , and h e tol d m e t o sta y awa y fro m hi s sister , a reques t tha t I didn' t understand. H e explaine d tha t his parents di d not want me around her . I asked why, and h e said that because of my race, his sister and I could no t be friends . I wa s "black, " an d sh e wa s "white. " "Bu t wh y can' t w e b e friends?" I protested. "It' s just wrong," he told me. Of course, he couldn' t explain wh y i t wa s wron g o r wha t hi s parent s though t wa s wron g wit h me. By age six, my lessons on race etiquette had begun: blacks were unfi t for whites to associate with. Neither hi s siste r no r I understoo d wha t th e proble m was , s o w e continued t o pla y togethe r unti l he r brothe r tol d m e tha t h e planne d t o beat m e up . A t school , wor d o f impendin g fight s sprea d fast . The y were neve r privat e matters . Throughou t tha t day , m y blac k classmate s reminded m e tha t I ha d bee n challenge d b y a whit e boy . Colo r wa s important to them, too. The fight too k on a life of its own, symbolizing to some o f th e childre n a contest betwee n al l whites an d al l blacks . Bu t I only wanted t o keep my friend an d defend myself . That da y after school , he and I fought. I recall a large, racially divided , multiage crow d gatherin g t o watch . Som e o f m y brother s an d sister s looked on , makin g i t eve n mor e importan t tha t I no t lose . Otherwis e I would hav e t o answe r t o them—especiall y Butch , wh o a s th e oldest , A Personal Narrativ e \f 2 7 thought it was his prerogative and duty to teach his younger brothers how to box . H e terrifie d me . S o I wo n tha t fight , hammerin g m y opponen t with blow s t o th e hea d an d body , bu t I los t m y friend . I didn' t hav e another white friend fo r a long time. I also learned fro m m y relatives that race was significant. I...

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