Paul Langan - Schooled

Copyright 2009 by Townsend Press, Inc.

Printed in the United States of America

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

Cover illustration 2009 by Gerald Purnell

Harlem (2) [What happens to a dream deferred...],

from THE COLLECTED POEMS OF LANGSTON

HUGHES by Langston Hughes, edited by Arnold

Rampersad with David Roessel, Associate Editor,

copyright 1994 by The Estate of Langston Hughes.

Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of

Random House, Inc.

All rights reserved. Any one chapter

of this book may be reproduced without

the written permission of the publisher.

For permission to reproduce more than

one chapter, send requests to:

Townsend Press, Inc.

439 Kelley Drive

West Berlin, NJ 08091

ISBN-13: 978-1-59194-177-4

ISBN-10: 1-59194-177-6

Library of Congress Control Number:

2008907031

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Lionel, can you read the poem to us?

Lionel Shephard cringed. It was the third time Mrs. Henley, his English teacher at Bluford High School, called on him today.

First shed asked him to define what the American Dream was. Lionel joked that it was what happened when everybody in the country was sleeping. Dontrell Neeves, his classmate and friend since second grade, laughed out loud.

You trippin, L, he whispered.

Mrs. Henley smiled and moved on, but she returned a few minutes later, pressing him with another question. She even circled to the back row where he sat, stopping just a few feet from his desk. Her eyes beamed through her glasses like two bright headlights focused on him.

So, as an American citizen, Lionel, what is your dream?

Lionel wanted to ask her why she was always picking on him. It had been going on since he started his freshman year a month ago. Jamar Coles, his friend from the car wash where he worked weekends, would have told her off right there in the middle of class.

Get yo bug-eyes outta my face.

Lionel could picture Jamar shoving a desk at her and walking out in the middle of class. Of course, Jamar had dropped out of high school last year. Lionel often thought of doing that, but he knew his dad would never allow it. Neither would Mom, though she was sitting in a sandy army base on the other side of the world, too far away to do anything about it if he did.

Basketball. Im gonna play in the NBA one day, Lionel answered. He meant it, though half the class snickered at him.

Yeah, me too. We all gonna play, said Rasheed Watkins from the far corner of the room. A few other students giggled.

Why you gotta say that? cut in Malika Shaw from the front row. People said I wouldnt run hurdles again after I broke my ankle, but they were wrong. Im still running.

Whatever, Rasheed said, rolling his eyes. Hes dreamin if he thinks hes gonna play in the NBA. Maybe smokin something too.

Man, Ill smoke you on the court right now, Lionel shot back.

What did Rasheed know? He wasnt there when Lionels squad at the Greene Street Police Athletic League won the summer basketball tournament. Lionel had blocked a shot in the final seconds, allowing Greene Street to defeat the Tanner Street Titans for the first time in three years. Officer Hodden, his coach, was so happy that hed lifted Lionel up in the middle of the court.

Youre a smart player, Lionel. Keepplayin like that and you might have afuture in the sport, hed said. It was one of the few times Lionel could remember anyone calling him smart. On the court, it was true. But school was a different story.

Lionel? Can you read the poem to us? Mrs. Henley repeated, snapping him from his thoughts.

Why wouldnt she just skip him? He could handle that, coasting in the back row, working in small groups and copying what other kids did, getting them to do the work for him. Hed been doing it for years. Hadnt she realized what his middle school teachers knew, that he wasnt the one to call on in class?

Which poem? Lionel asked, sitting up in his desk. He knew class was almost over.

Rasheed rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth. I told you hes dreamin, Mrs. Henley, he said.

Rasheed, I am about to be your nightmare, Lionel cut back.

Thats enough, gentlemen, Mrs. Henley said. The poems called Harlem, by Langston Hughes. Its on page sixtytwo.

Lionel reached down and dragged his heavy textbook off the floor. Reluctantly he flipped it open, his heart starting to pound. He hated being put on the spot in class. It made his temples hurt and his palms go clammy and cold. Sometimes, it even made it difficult to focus, like right now.

What page again?

Boy, dont you listen? Rasheed hissed.

Thats enough, Mrs. Henley repeated firmly, flashing Rasheed a look that silenced him. Page sixtytwo, Lionel.

Several students snickered. Lionel could feel the eyes of his classmates crawling over him, judging him. It was like the day back in fifth grade, before Moms army unit was deployed, when he really started having trouble in school.

Then Mr. Grabowski, a substitute teacher in his science class, asked him to read aloud a passage about insects. Lionel had always been one of the weakest readers in class. For a time, he got extra help figuring out letters and sounds. And he used what he knew the day Mr. Grabowski called on him. But it didnt help with the word mosquito.

M-m-moss, hed stammered, trying to make the letters on the page into sounds that made sense. Moss-quit-oh,