This semester I’m teaching a course called American
Political Ideals at a community college, so my crowd is both diverse and
challenging. There’s a good mix of ages, ethnicities, and socio-economic
groups. Some of my students are fighting to continue their education and they value
every minute of class time. Others are there only because they don’t know what
else to do; for them it’s a safe and thrifty extension of high school.
There are days when I truly love teaching them. Other days I
look out at their faces and I’m met with a sea of apathy. Then I become desperate
for new ideas to spice things up and pique their interest. So I could barely
contain my joy when, three weeks ago, the whole Bridgegate scandal erupted. And
when the Christie administration accused MSNBC of reporting each new development
with glee, I couldn't deny that I was right there with them (with MSNBC that
is, not with the Christie administration).
“Do you think he’ll have a chance at the presidency now?” One
of my students asked me this. It was the Monday after the mayor of Hoboken had
accused Christie of withholding Hurricane Sandy funds. This particular student,
named Alex, was a young girl right out of high school. She sat in the back but
even from a distance she stood out, with her purple hair, lip ring, and strong
opinions.
“I think it totally depends on what happens next. If nobody
contradicts Christie’s story, that he wasn’t in the loop about the lanes
closing until after it was all over, then I suppose it’s possible. The public
can have a short memory and when it comes to stuff like this. Two years from
now, when it’s time to pick a candidate, the Republicans might overlook his
tarnished reputation if he’s still their best option.”
A lot of my students were still more interested in their
phones than in our conversation, but most of them were sitting forward in their
seats, interested in the discourse.
Alex’s forehead tightened and her nose wrinkled as if she
had taken a whiff of something putrid. “How could he be their best option? What
he did was illegal!”
“But there’s no real proof,” I said.
“Yeah, but come on. Everybody knows he’s guilty of criminal
activity.”
Zach, another one of my students, took his feet off the
chair in front of him, turned towards Alex, and spoke in a low, growly sort of
voice. “I don’t know that he’s guilty. I do
know that Obama and the IRS targeted conservative groups. I also know that people
died in Benghazi because of gross incompetence, and the Obama administration
lied to cover it up. Why don’t you care about any of that criminal activity?”
“That’s bullshit!” Alex cried. “The IRS targeted liberal
groups too, and I’d like to see Republicans be as worried about the gross
incompetence that killed people during 9/11 as they are about Benghazi.”
I cleared my throat to grab their attention, but it only
sort of worked. Alex and Zach stayed focused on each other like boxers in the
ring, and the rest of the class was already choosing sides. “Well,” I inserted,
“you both have brought up some relevant points. I don’t think idealism really
plays a part in American politics as much as partisanship does. We tend to judge
someone as innocent or guilty depending on whether or not we agree with them,
most of the time.”
Alex’s head spun towards me. “What do you think? Do you
think he’s guilty?”
“This isn’t about what I think,” I said, and I had to stop
myself from clenching my fingers into a knot. “I present the facts so you can
form your own opinions.”
Zach rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Yeah, right. You’re so
clearly a liberal elite, socialist-Obama supporter. I bet you pray every night
that Christie gets impeached just so Hillary has no one to run against in 2016.”
I swallowed back a laugh. What Zach said wasn't far off – I’m
not a socialist, but the rest of his allegations would be hard to argue against.
But Alex was so quick to rush to my defense that I didn’t have to worry about
it.
“Don’t talk to her that way!” she cried. “She’s our teacher.
Show some respect!”
I waved my hands. “It’s fine, really. But Zach, I do have a
problem with one thing you said, simply because – “
He cut me off to yell at Alex. “Don’t talk to me about
respect. It’s people like you who are bringing our country down.”
Alex’s face grew red. “What do you mean, people like me?”
Felipe, another one of my more vocal students, interjected. “He
means anyone who isn’t white, male, straight, and narrow-minded.”
Zach puffed out his chest. “Hey, nobody asked you to come
here, so shut your mouth.”
I slapped my hands down on the podium. “Okay, Zach, that’s
enough. At the beginning of the semester we all agreed not to make our political
discussions personal.”
“Yeah, fine, great. Blame the white guy. Alex and that
illegal immigrant have been making it personal too, but you’re only yelling at
me. It’s so typical.”
“I’m not an illegal immigrant!” Felipe shouted, and he got
out of his chair and stood over Zach. “I have just as much right to be here as
you do.”
“Calm down,” I said, and I moved towards both Zach and Felipe.
Zach rose to meet Felipe on his level while several of my other students turned
on their cameras on their phones, to film what was quickly devolving into a
brawl.
Alex jumped up too. “It’s you who’s bringing this country
down, with all your racist attitudes.”
Zach’s whole body compressed and I could see his lean
muscles twitch beneath his plain white t-shirt and blue jeans. “What have I
said that’s racist? Name ONE RACIST THING that I’ve said.” His goateed chin
quivered in rage. “You can’t think of
one, can you?”
I stepped into their contentious little circle and then everything
happened so fast. Felipe and Alex started yelling, calling out Zach on all of
his thinly veiled racist comments from over the course of the semester. Zach,
obviously feeling cornered, tried to push himself out of the confrontation and
I was waving my arms around in attempt to keep things from coming to blows.
That was when I wound up with somebody’s elbow forcefully jammed into my eye.
“Hey,” I yelled, covering my wounded, watery eye in pain.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” Alex cried.
“Everybody out, now! Class dismissed, except for you, you
and you!” I pointed to Zach, Alex, and Felipe. So everybody shuffled out, except
for the three of them, and Alex, Felipe, and Zach were all ordered to meet with
school administrators to discuss a disciplinary hearing. Meanwhile I was told
to go home, because my eye was turning the same shade of purple as Alex’s hair.
When I got home it was the middle of the day, and Monty came
out from his office, took one look at me and said, “What the hell happened to you?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I said, turning my face away as he
leaned in close to examine it. “People got heated today in class and somebody’s
elbow accidentally rammed into my eye. But I don’t know whose elbow it was,
everybody is denying it, and until there’s proof, they’re all more or less off the
hook.”
“What?” Monty shook his head at me and my lack of coherence.
“I don’t understand.”
So I told him the whole story while he pressed a bag of
frozen peas to my face.
“So you know who’s involved, and they’re all guilty to some
degree, but you don’t know exactly who did what?”
“Exactly,” I answered. “And Felipe and Alex are both good
kids. And even Zach, while I don’t agree with him or even particularly like him
- I don’t think he’d have hurt me on purpose.”
Monty stroked the uninjured part of my cheek. “I’m not okay
with this, Luce. You can’t have a violent student in your class, putting you at
risk. You don’t get paid nearly enough for that.”
“None of them are violent. People just get heated when they’re
talking about politics. I can handle it,” I said. “And at least it’s not
boring.”
And class has been fine for the last couple of weeks, but
the weather turned so cold and classes were cancelled and other times very few
people showed up. Plus, all the Christie headlines receded, even on MSNBC, so I
reverted to talking about the history of the major political parties and the
formation of their ideologies.
But now that David Wildstein sent the letter that states
that Christie knew about the lane closures as they were happening, Christie is
in the hot seat again, and I guess that means I am too.
On Monday I’m sure Alex will want to discuss it. And I’ll
say that until Wildstein can come forth with proof that Christie knew, it won’t
matter. Just like I’m sure that at least one of my students has cell phone
footage that proves whose elbow it was the rammed into my eye. I was stupid to
dismiss class so quickly after it happened; if I had interviewed the other
students right away I might have gotten some valuable information. But we don’t
always make the most rational decisions in the heat of the moment. And the
truth can be like a tree falling in the forest; if nobody hears it, it doesn't
make a sound.
