Self-Portrait with Ghost by Meng Jin

Author:Meng Jin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-07-05T00:00:00+00:00

First period, Social Studies, was the one class besides Chorus she had with Ruthie. Their teacher was a timid white man called Mr. P. They had recently started a unit titled “World Civilizations and Cultures.” Last week they had studied “African Culture” and this week they were journeying east. Selena felt nauseous; often she felt nauseous in Social Studies, though she could never put her finger on exactly why.

Last week, Mr. P had read out loud from the textbook: “Much of what we know about African culture comes from the work of archaeologists, as African history is a recent development, arising only in the last two hundred years.” This had confused Selena—hadn’t they learned that human civilization had started in Africa?

“Excuse me!” Chika, who was in seventh grade math with Selena, had waved her hand in the air. “Permission to speak, Mr. P! I think this book has some incorrect information. My family lives in Nigeria and has been there since forever? So, it cannot be correct that African history is only two hundred years old.”

“Yeah, didn’t we learn that the pyramids was built like five thousand years ago? Ain’t Egypt in Africa?” said Jerome. Jerome was the other kid at Selena’s bus stop, outgoing and friendly to everyone. Sometimes he talked to Selena until the next stop, chattering easily about nothing and everything, a skill Selena would never have. Then his friends got on and flocked around him, and Selena scooted to the window and put on her headphones to listen to the latest CD Ruthie had burned.

“Nah, Egyptians are white,” said Benjamin, who sat next to Jerome, in class and on the bus. On Fridays they huddled together in the back seat, reading comic books Jerome got from his big sister. “Africans are Black, right?”

“Isn’t,” Mr. P corrected. “The pyramids were built. Chika. Jerome. Benjamin! Please wait to be called on to speak. Now let’s review the definition of history. In chapter one, we learned that history is a written record . . .”

“What about that—the Rosetta Stone? That was from Africa, right?” said Jerome.

“Yes, the Rosetta Stone was discovered in Egypt,” said Chika, “which is in North Africa. Not all Africans are Black, Benjamin, you probably just think so because all the ones brought to America with the slave trade were. It’s confusing.”

“Yo, Mr. P,” Benjamin said, “this book is—”

“Enough!” Mr. P had summoned his courage. To show these kids some measure of authority and discipline! He steadied his resolve, he said to himself: You are the teacher!

But over the weekend, regret had dogged him. Moments of the class replayed involuntarily, showing him how he might have taught differently. Despite his attempt to assert control, wielding the recognizable signals of power, he had lost a measure of respect. The class had settled, and yet, their eyes had glazed over, their minds had disengaged. What he should have done was so obvious now. He might have invited Chika, who probably did know more about Africa—and why not? She was from there—to lead the discussion.

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