When I was in third grade I encountered racism for the very first time. At recess a friend, Raymond, (I can easily recall his name even today because this made such an impression) and I were in a small section of the playground where spruce trees were grew. We were playing house, and were scraping the dirt and twigs up into small mounds running from tree to tree to represent the walls of the house.
A second grade teacher was playground monitor that day. She was white. She approached us as we were playing and said to Raymond that one of the children said he had been throwing dirt, which he denied. I backed up his story, but she was having none of that from me and with an absolutely fierce look I will never forget, said "I wasn't talking to you." Well that shut me up, I didn't know what else to do as a third grader. She had him show him her hands. She announced loudly "They're dirty!" The way she said the word dirty, she made it sound vile and disgusting. I'll never forget it.
Raymond's punishment was to get down on his knees and rub his nose in the dirt right there in front of her and all of the other kids. After recess I tried to tell our teacher what had happened and she said "I don't want to hear about it." It was only then that I realized what was going on.
I began to suspect that what had happened had only happened because one white boy told a lie about another boy who happened to be a Native American. The teacher believed the white boy and was so harsh on Raymond because he was a Native American. And my teacher knew what happened was wrong. I knew what happened was wrong. But in the early 60's, what recourse was there for a third grader.
The problem was, I only suspected. I didn't know for sure. I still don't know absolutely. It wasn't overt. There were no racial slurs or anything other than my own gut feelings about what the real motives here were. That's the problem with prejudice. Sometimes it is overt, but most of the time it isn't, so how can you be sure. You can't. You just always have your doubts, suspicions, and hunches.
That event taught me a valuable lesson. It taught me never to take a person's difference for granted. I never saw the differences between Raymond and me before, but now I did. At the same time, it taught me empathy for those who are different from me. I know it isn't the same for them as it was for me growing up. I never take it for granted that they grew up in a world without prejudice, because I know they have. I understand where teejay is coming from on this. You always wonder.
Tammy