Exploring Values ~ PROPRIETY
Little Khadijah stood patiently in the back of the classroom looking at the table covered in seashells. She looked at each one in turn, admiring their individual fragility and softness. She wondered at the muted colors and the unusual shapes. Each looked different and yet somehow they were all the same. She looked on, mustering as much interest as possible, as she patiently waited for her teacher to return to the room.
Her reverie was soon interrupted by a lanky boy, who was much too tall to be a genuine third grader, possibly because he was a fourth grader who had been held back a year.
She watched him walk over and listened as he stated plainly, “Give me a kiss!”
Little Khadijah looked on, not sure how to respond.
“I said give me a kiss!”
“No.” She said simply, hoping it would suffice.
Little Khadijah squinted at his puckered lips. He made a sudden move but before he could grab her, she was off! She ran to the other side of the classroom; unfortunately, with him in tow. She dashed from left to right and skirted between desks and tables. Her grandfather used to call her “Flo Jo” after the famous track and field Olympian, Florence Griffith Joyner. She was impossible to catch.
Still, he was gaining on her. Behind her, she could see glimpses of his loose and lanky arms reaching forward to grab her. Hoping the teacher would return soon, she ran back to the table of shells at the back of the classroom. Just as she intended to protect herself behind it, the boy lunged forward, hit the shell table with his gangling legs and sent the table flying on its side. The beautiful shells crashed to the floor and slid in every which way.
At that unfortunate moment her teacher returned to the room to find the children all on the floor scrounging around, looking for shells, as if they were just being discovered and collected on some distant beach.
“Who overturned the shell table?” The teacher demanded.
No one answered, though all eyes tended in a certain direction.
“Who overturned the shell table?” The teacher demanded once again.
Feeling the pressure of the silence, Khadijah’s close friend volunteered, “Khadijah & Brian.”
Little Khadijah cut a sharp look at her friend, “I didn’t knock over the table.”
“Sit down, both of you!” She glared at Little Khadijah and Brian standing not very far from her. “Neither of you will receive gold stars today.”
“But!” Little Khadijah protested.
Before she could finish another classmate spoke up: “But he was trying to kiss her!”
“Everyone quiet! Once you have finished picking up the shells, you will return to your seats!”
The seashell table stood upright again. Buzzing around Little Khadijah like little worker bees, her classmates slowly finished restoring the shells to their rightful place.
Little Khadijah sat down, arms crossed and brow furrowed. She knew her grandmother would be hearing about this as she and her teacher attended the same church. She sat confused, unsure of what the proper behavior would have been. She made a note to self that apparently it is better or at least less troublesome to allow yourself to be accosted.
Feeling like her scholarly career was off to an unfair start, Little Khadijah sat disappointed once again in the adults. It was difficult to find the words but she simply wanted her teacher to understand that she did not want to give him a kiss.
“If she would only hear me out, then she would know it was not a game.” Little Khadijah thought to herself. At a loss for the right words and sure her teacher wanted to hear none of it, she took her punishment, chin in the air and with a defiant smile.
In her mind she began to feel sad about the loss of stars. Perhaps it would not have been better, but maybe it would have been easier to give him the kiss. She played with the idea: The situation would have been over before her teacher entered. Sure, the class would have laughed at her. She might have felt disrespected, not only by him but by herself as well, but the teacher never would have known. She could have gone home with another gold star for good behavior, taking her one step closer to the prize at the end of the year. However, in her heart she was sure she had might the right choice even if, this time around, it didn’t feel very good.
On the bus home that evening, Brian made his disappointment and growing contempt very clear. Objects flew forward towards her seat, preceded by comments about her, her lack of beauty and intelligence. Khadijah sat cross-armed, alarmed by his sudden change in sentiments.
When her stop came, she stepped off the bus, relieved. Happily ignoring the obscenities flowing from the window above, she walked triumphantly towards her house and her haven.
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