Authors: Xyla Turner
Finally, she re-heated her spaghetti from last night, grabbed a bottle of wine and ate in silence. Her phone chimed again, but this time it was Danny. He was saying that he missed her and couldn’t wait to get home. She slightly smiled as they had been dating seriously for over a few years now. She thought he would be proposing soon, but that seemed to be the furthest thing from Danny’s mind. He was currently in California, working on a book with a USC (University of Southern California) professor. Danny was a research guru, which was good when she was taking the quantitative method’s class and he helped her passed with an
A.
Lately, she was not feeling his profession, nor his commitment to research and definitely not their future.
Lisa was thinking about going back to school for Community Planning and Urban Development, but she was not definite nor did she think she would be able to do this and continue to teach. Temple University had a new program that she thought might be a good fit, but she wanted to get more information first.
Finishing her wine, she received another text from the editor that read, “Ouch.”
She knew she had hit her mark.
RICH:
The phone buzzed in Richard’s small office or closet as he liked to call the space. The floor’s secretary announced, “Mr. Wells, your father is here to see you.”
Rich groaned as he did not ever enjoy visits from his father because they were always bad visits. Never anything good, no matter how many wins, awards or accolades he would receive. His father didn’t congratulate him on anything. It was always when he fucked up, his father would show his face.
“Send him in.”
The door to his office/closet opened and he could tell Richard Sr. was mad. He had not done anything to not be in the old man’s good graces, but he was sure he’d find out soon enough. His father looked around the room, grimaced, and then pulled the newspaper out of his suitcase. Rich looked confused, but then he recognized the picture of the irritating woman he butted heads with yesterday on the paper. He picked it up and read:
Dear Readers,
As you may or may not be aware, there is a great connection between the school house and the jail house, specifically in urban communities. Researchers all over the country have statistics and data about the school to prison pipeline. It is real folks! I have the privilege to serve on the board of the No School to Prison Pipeline Foundation and I work as an educator at a local public school. That is to say, I am not only aware of the statistics, but I see it every day.
Statistic 1
: 68% of males in state and federal prison do not have a high school diploma.
Statistic 2
: 70% of students involved in “in-school” arrests are Black or Hispanic.
Statistic 3
: In the United States, almost $70 billion dollars are spent annually on incarceration, probation, and parole.
Why are these facts important to know? I believe they are important to know because there is a system set up to fail our kids, to leave them uneducated so they are not equipped to deal with the real world. Schools do not know how to handle these issues. Therefore, they rely on the police to control students. Money is being spent in the billions towards a prison system and not thrown towards the education system and neither of them seems to work correctly. So there is no rationale to favor one over the other.
To make matters worse, we have a judicial system that is equally questionable, that includes lawyers who do not give one damn about the people they represent and want to move up the ladder quickly. People like Richard Wells, Jr., a public defender who had the nerve to tell me that “they all have excuses” and he didn’t care to hear my student’s excuse for petty theft. Therefore, what I took from this interaction was that because my student is Latino, was arrested for stealing, he had to be guilty and his reasoning did not matter. To make matters worse he said and I quote, “He was a good lawyer and good at his job.”
I took the liberty to look up his statistics and here are some more interesting facts:
Statistic 4
: Mr. Well’s conviction rate is in the 70%.
Statistic 5
: Mr. Well’s guilty pleas are in the 70%.
Statistic 6
: 70% of Mr. Well’s clients are Black and Latino
I thought that was odd. 50% of his Black and Latino clients plead guilty. Do you want to know why? Because Mr. Wells does not care. He is not the only one, I am sure of it. However, he just happened to cross my path and I did not feel comfortable leaving my student in his incapable hands.
The story Mr. Wells did not want to hear was that my 14-year-old student’s mom overdosed on heroine, but he didn’t know she was dead. He thought she was just passed out, so he went to the store, stole some bread and milk because he heard from a friend that would wake her up. He also used the food to feed his four-year-old sister. The store owner called the cops, identified where the boy lived and they knocked on his door. They arrested him in front of his sister, put the sister in a foster home and flippantly told the boy his mother was dead. He was arrested for $5.89.
I am not mad at the store owner, he was losing money - I get it. I am not mad at the cops, they were doing their jobs, and I get that. I am angry at the person who is supposed to be the voice that intercedes for my student. The one that does not want to hear what he has to say, why he did what he did, just whether he did or not. That person or people like that are why I am mad.
The District Attorney’s office needs to really evaluate who they hire, why they hire them and what can they actually contribute to this sort of dilemma. I am not asking for handouts, I am not saying the law was not broken, but what I am saying is when you have a broken system. Well, multiple broken systems, what the hell should one expect. Then to go and treat them harshly because “they” which I interpreted to mean people not like him, demonstrates to me that the individual is either jaded, racist or prejudice and in the wrong field. A lawyer should represent, not cast judgment.
Real Talk with Lisa
Rich put the paper down as his father stood up and walked towards the door. He turned his head sideways, not even looking at him and said, “You better fix this shit or I will fix you.”
He sunk into his chair as his hands ran through his hair. How the fuck did this happen? Everything was coming down in a crash. He heard his phone ring, and he knew by the ringtone that it was Grace, his girlfriend. He picked it up and said nothing.
“Did you see the paper?” she sounded angry.
“Yes, I just saw it?” he muttered.
“Who the fuck is that bitch?” she seethed.
“Some teacher who came to the court yesterday with her student. We butted heads and things were said.”
“Well, how the fuck are you going to fix it?”
“I don’t know, I just read it.”
“Well, I know. You need to make a public appearance, doing good for the community. Give some money to her little foundation and have some sort of meeting of the minds with her to show that you are trying to make amends. I’ll set that up. You will be announcing your intention to run in less than a year. This is the sort of shit that cannot happen. She is probably in the pocket of one of the other opponents. That bitch looks like an opportunist. Putting your name in that dreadful article like that. It’s so uncivilized. Just like her kind.” She kept talking.
He was shaking his head. This woman was like a damn snake or better yet a vulture. He guessed that was why he remained her ally.
“Are you listening to me, Richard?” She annunciated each word.
He hated when she called him Richard and she knew it but insisted on doing it when she was upset. She did this to goad him, but today was not the day. He hung up on her and checked his email. His boss wanted to meet with him ASAP.
Great fucking start of the day and it was only 9:30 AM.
Rich’s boss said what everyone else said. In essence, he needed to fix this shit. His boss would handle Ricardo’s case himself. As a publicity booster, of course since he was sure that a token Black or Hispanic attorney would be brought in to stand by him and vouch for his race loving sensibilities. Rich’s boss was whiter than he was so he would need to have someone affirm his ‘I love all people’ agenda. He was up for re-election next year, so he might as well get a head start.
His co-workers looked at him wearily, not sure what to think. Some secretly patted him on the back while others kept their distance. Rich was fine with all of this because he did not plan on being at this place long anyway. As Lisa said, this was a step for him, and in one year he would be out. However, Lisa’s stunt did threaten his success. He did need to fix it, so he looked up her information and called the paper. They said she was a freelance writer and did not have a phone there, but gave him her email address. He didn’t want to email, so he tried to figure out what school she worked at so he could contact her there. Once he identified the school’s number, they said she was teaching and he could leave a message on her voicemail. He did not want to do that either.
Rich did one better, he’d wait after school for her.
LISA:
Teachers were coming up to Lisa congratulating her for telling the truth about the situation and told her they had her back. They were also scared that her article could get her in trouble with the administration of the school. She did not see how because she did not mention where she worked nor did she say anything about her school. That was a United States statistic, she thought as she read her email that said the principal wanted to meet with her ASAP.
Her principal, Mr. Dixon, sat at his desk with his college degrees arched around his head on the wall. His glasses were perched on his face and his fingers were interlocked in front of him. He was in his early 40’s, but looked much younger, had dark brown wavy hair and a light mocha complexion.
“Ms. Johnson,” he drawled like he was from the south. “I am so glad you are so moved by your beliefs, however when you publish an article about the school system being flawed, it makes us all look bad.”
She decided it was best not to say anything because if he were going where she thought he was going, there could be a problem. She kept her face blank.
“I agree with you and I know you were not targeting the school, but some lawyer.” He laughed, “Boy did you give him hell. That is what I like about you. You don’t back down.”
He sobered.
“However, we need to ask you to refrain from bashing the school or the school system,” he finished.
“I’m afraid that I cannot do that, Mr. Dixon.”
He looked surprised. “What do you mean, you cannot do it?”
“I mean, you should know better than I do that the educational system is flawed. Severely. What, you have been in this field for over 15 years?” He nodded. “So you know, Mr. Dixon. I love my job, I love my students, but there is such a thing as standing up for what you believe in. I love my writing and I have received over 100 emails today alone about other educators and people that are in agreement with me and want to do something about this epidemic.”
He looked shocked.
“Ms. Johnson, I hear you and agree. However, the battle you are choosing to fight is one that can be fought another day. For the sake of your job, for the sake of your students, don’t fight this.”
“Mr. Dixon, I will assume I am on some sort of probation if I don’t stop. I’m telling you now I won’t because this is for the sake of my students. Someone has to stand up for them. This cannot be fought another day.”
He shook his head. “Alright, consider this your warning. If the articles continue, then your probation will kick in and I am certain the union will step in for a hearing.”
He took his glasses off and said, “For what it’s worth, you are a damn good teacher and I’d hate to lose you. I’ve often thought you’d make a great principal someday.”
She smiled at him and said, “That means a lot coming from you, Mr. Dixon.”
Gathering her things, she went outside to the parking lot with the hopes of heading home to get ready to go out with the girls. She needed to unwind after today. Lisa counted over 200 emails now that the day was over and not even sure how many phone calls or messages. Her phone stayed off during the school day, so she could focus on the students and her work.
As she approached her car, she saw someone leaning against it. At first she thought it was Danny here to surprise her. But the closer she got the more she saw it was a man, but it was not her man.
It was that man.
“To what do I owe this intrusion, Mr. Wells?”
“I come in peace,” he said and raised his hands in surrender.
He was in another expensive suit, with his sandy hair and a tanned complexion. This was an Italian trait, but she was not sure if he had simply been in the hot sun for a while or he was just a darker shade. He was taller than her by a few inches and his physique was that of an athlete. The man definitely worked out because that suit outlined his broad, expansive chest in the best way possible. In the courtroom, she was too angry to recognize any of his features, except his devil horns. Lisa did not know if it was the sunlight or that suit, but he looked good.
“I’m sure you do. What? You’ve come to rub it in?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
“What are you talking about, I came to speak to you.”
“I’m not in the talking mood,” she said as she rounded to the driver’s side of the car.
He followed her and she quickly turned around to face him, not trusting him to be behind her.
“Listen – “
She interrupted him and said, “If you are going to call me a bitch at,” she looked at her watch, “5:40 in the evening. At least buy me a drink first.”
He looked shocked and said, “Funny you say that because I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner sometime.”
She busted out laughing to the point where tears were rolling down her face. He did not seem to find anything funny but looked at her with wonderment.
Once she settled, she said, “That’s just an expression. I wouldn’t trust a drink from you if my life depended on it.”
He was shocked at her words but said, “You hate me that much? You think I’d do harm to you?”