"We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal."
Marshall Finnegan was your average highschool student. He made good grades, he had to, playing on the team meant he had to. Though, there was one subject he wasn't so good at, and that was history. "I just don't see why some dead man from the past is so important," Marshall said, slaming his books down on the wooden desk.
"Some dead man from the past started the civil rights movement that gave you and your 'homies' the right to sit where you choose, the right to attend harvard, the right to do what you want with your life, Mr. Finnegan." The teachers eyes pinned him, a frown pulling at his lips.
"Yeah, but he hasn't done anything for me, personally, has he?" Marshall grinned. The teacher smiled, dropping the manilla folder on his desk. "Without Dr. King, no person of color, myself included, would be given the right to sit anywherr in a dinner, a bus, or use the sane water fountion as a white person. Take a seat, class is in session."
"I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character."
The bell rang, bringing the last flush of stufents from the hallway. Marshall sat down and turned yorwards the screen, not very interested in the grainy black and white images flickering across the screen. A man with a thick hose approached a crowd of people screaming and refusing to yield to the officers demands. Marshall stiffened, eyes wide as he watched the hose fill and thicken, spraying a high powered water jet into the crowd. His knuckles tightend a bit. Why aren't they moving? Whats so important that they don't just get up and leave? Another man, braver than the others, fought back against the police officer, beating him, and was set on by the hose, sliding into a wall and going limp. They fight like their lives depend on it. Like death is better than one more day of suffering. Marshall flinched. He looked down at his hands and found them shaking.
"Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed."
The clip played for a few moments before cutting to white. "Can anyone tell me why a black person would have fought for rights we take for granted- a seat on the bus, going to the same college as a white person, entering a restaurant through the front door, voting? Marshall? I'm sure you have an awnser." The teacher kept a neutral expression, waiting. Marshall couldn't find an answer.
"Can anyone help Mr. Finnegan?" The girl in front of Marshall raised her hand. "Someone had to fight for the rights we have. They didn't like what they were given; being treated as a second class citizen would get kinda old after awhile." Things could always be worse, right mom?
The bell rang, signalling the end of class. Marshall got up, grabbing his bag and following the flow of students. "Not so fast, Mr. Finnegan. I have an extra credit assignment you'll be needing if ypu want to pass this class. You're hanging low as it is; Seventy is nothing to brag about." Marshall stopped, his hand on the strap of his addidas backpack. He turned around.
"What is it? An essay?" Marshall felt a smirk curling on his face. His teacher ahook his heas. "No, You'll be spending time with me after school and researching Dr. King, then, You'll write a five page essay, while i watch, and present it to the class tommorrow." Marshalls mouth hung open. "You gotta be kidding me, teach!" The teacher smiled. "See you after school, Marshall."
"The function of education is to teach one to think intensively and to think critically. Intelligence plus character - that is the goal of true education."
Marshall stood in the empty history classroom, his school issued laptop in front of him. 'Analys Dr. Kings speech and write a five page paper on what it means to you.' his teacher had said, before going to get a drink from the teachers lounge. Marshall rolled his eyes. He went into google and looked for a copy of the speech and clicked on the first link. The video opened and Dr. Kings voice filtered through Marshalls headphones, surprisingly smooth and easy to listen to.
"You havnt made a sound since you started the video, Mr. Finnegan." Marshall jumped, his headphones clattering to the floor. He stood, his heart pounding. His hisyory teacher stood a few feey between him and the door. "How long were you rhere?" His teacher smiled. "I came back in when you put on your headphones. Would you like to know what lead up to the civil rights movement? Or would you rather tell me what you think the speech was about first?"
I don't really know what to think. Don't we have the same problem as we used to? Blacks are still getting shot by cops, and put in jail the most, aren't we? "Why do you think that is?" Marshall jerked back. "Ii said all that out loud?" The teacher nodded. "Well, Some of my friends don't exactly come from the best neighborhoods...." Not that I have any room to judge on that. My home life isn't so different. Dad took off when I was four. He said he couldn't do it anymore. Mom works as many shifts as she can to make ends meet, but it doesn't always keep the electricity on. What makes the black folks from back then, and the ones like me and mom so different? Didn't they have to deal with the same things we do now?
Sometimes... it's hard... watching my mom run back and forth between her shifts at the diner and the grocery store. He looked down, clenching the fabric of his torn jeans in his fist. "In the hood, no one expects anything of you except to be tough; Because if you're anything else, you're dead. No one had much faith in me, except the football coach... And then I was something other than a street rat." Marshalls throat was tight. Tears streamed down his face.
"And you've come a long way since then. Dr. King would be proud. He dreamt that people like you and me, people with ambition, could make it in the world and not have a little thing like the color of our skin outshine the content of our character." The teacher patted Marshall's back. They shared a smile. I'm starting to understand just how good I've got it.
"Free at last, Free at last. Thank God almighty we are free at last. "
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