The dig.

Today I asked T. not to use the "N. word" for the three hundredth time.

He responded with the words, "Why, that's what we were to you."

Perhaps I haven't done my duty in teaching grammar, but I cannot explain how offended I was by that personal pronoun, and I told him simply that I was offended. He shot back, "You think slavery wasn't offensive to us?"

Possibly, this is the most offensive thing that's been said to me in a long time. It repulsed my entire being. I didn't even know what to do with myself, other than to grab my journal and write, fighting back hot, angry tears. I tried to reason through why his words were so offensive to me: was I responding in self-righteousness, were there truth to his words?

I have always prided myself on being fair and open, on trying to look past stigmas to see a person's heart. I try to do it on a daily basis with T. He is nothing but rude to me, he comes to class late every day if he even comes at all, is smart but lazy and clearly ignorant. He wants to be respected and feared which is why he acts so tough, but leaves little to respect. I cannot understand this we/us, either. I am willing to bet that no one he knows or has ever known has ever been a slave. Why is he holding this long defeated hammer of slavery over my head, ready to slam it down to offend all? When do we move past the past and move forward into the future that freedom fighters like Dr. King and Rosa Parks, and the Greensboro Four fought for? Is this racially inept of me? Is this self-righteous? Is this unfair of me?

T. lives in a group home. I have no doubt that he has had a difficult life. He swings out in hatred and bitterness at anyone who tries to love him. It is beyond me to love him anyways. Only by supernatural act of God am I able to look at him and love him ever.

He is quick to tell me that I don't know him, yet he judges me. This is not the first time this young man and I have discussed race. When I asked him to explain the struggles that he has on a daily basis due to his color, he just stared at me. If he will not enlighten me, who will? It's as though he thinks he's Ruby Bridges. I am sorry if this is an ignorant rant, but I cannot understand where this child is coming from. I also cannot understand what I would consider an attack on my character and my family.

And let's talk about that forbidden "N word." People died due to that word. It is a hateful, rude word. All the rappers in the world cannot redeem that word. It has only been used derogatorily. It is used to put people down, to crush their spirits. That is why that word and the "other f- word" are not permitted in my classroom. I reject all hateful words, said by anyone of any race or creed.

Also the idea that I, or my family, would view anyone in that way, is highly offensive. Not to mention that my family is from California, therefore bypassing this dreadfully distasteful conflict of the colors. They were no where near the South during the war between the states. Further more, neither was I. I was still in God's pocket and had yet to grace the world with my presence.

I cannot tell you why the words of a 15 year old little boy hurt me so deeply. Maybe it's because I interact with him on a daily basis, and I would hope that somehow he would know that I love race. I think it is a beautiful thing, created to show God's heart in such a unique way. Maybe it's because I try to love this boy, and over and over, all he does is respond with hate.

I am reminded that it's not personal but part of me can't help but wonder how it couldn't be. As I reflected on my own heart this evening, checking my response, wondering at my hurt, I began to pray for God's eyes.

God, can you help me see my student's hearts and how to react to them? I get frustrated because I lack the power to change hearts and minds. But you don't. I want to be good at what I do, but I don't really know how to be. I so lack the skills to truly inspire, or impact or teach, or even love. How can I show love? Give me your eyes. My being a teacher is supposed to be an act of love for you. But if I don't love as I do it, the purpose is defeated. Please wash my heart of the hurts and stings placed on my by my students. I give them to you. Even if no kid ever said anything kind to me the duration of my employment as a teacher, I would still be responsible for big love every day. Fill me up so streams of living water can flow out of me.

I am trusting God to do a work in my heart so I can go in tomorrow, ready to love just as passionately and radically as before.