“I understand, believe me. When I was at Spelman, we protested every other weekend. What you’ve both done is good. It’s good for our school; for the students, whether they know it or not. It keeps our elected officials honest. The truth is, I don’t want to lose the arts funding any more than you do, but my hands are tied. Something had to be cut. We must find a way to make do under the current economic struggles. We must tighten the belt a little,” Dr. Jackson says, like she’s running for office or something. I instantly feel like she’s patronizing us, and I so want to tell her to cut the BS.
“With all due respect, Dr. J, save the BS. The funding for the new football stadium wasn’t cut,” Omar says confidently and defiantly. It doesn’t even come out disrespectfully; more like he’s a journalist. The fire in his voice is measured. And kinda sexy as hell.
“Mr. Smalls, let’s not forget who’s the student and who’s the adult here,” a shocked Dr. Jackson says.
“These are our demands,” I say, and hand her our list. She laughs, but I ignore that and continue. “As you can see, there are only five, so we’d appreciate your prompt attention to this matter.”
“This silent mess ends now, you two understand?” she shouts. Her smile is gone, replaced by an irritated frown. “I’ve gotten calls from two other principals, and it seems that your little prank has spread to two other schools. It ends now.”
“This is not a prank, Dr. Jack—”
“I’m still talking, Mr. Smalls,” she says, her face all scrunched up.
“Claudia, I’m surprised at you. Number one in your class, Harvard bound, most likely to succeed. This is what you want your legacy to be? Don’t forget, I wrote you that recommendation, and I can just as easily send them a revision.” Now she’s just being spiteful, as evidenced by the vein popping out of her forehead.
“Dr. Jackson, here’s the thing, we—”
“I’m speaking, Mr. Smalls. With all the trouble the Miami athletic department is in, how do you think they are going to take you being suspended, or worse, expelled from school?”
Now she’s standing up, pointing her finger at us. I never even thought about what kind of impact our protest is having on her. And her job security.
I’m sure she heard Omar on the radio. Just like the mayor and the school board. And I’m sure her boss, the superintendent, and his boss, the frickin’ school board, told her to fix it. It’s sad that she’s got caught in the middle, but the truth is we couldn’t stop this protest if we wanted to. We don’t. The students are too amped up. They want band, gospel choir, drama, and art back. And they . . . we . . . are going to be quiet until we get it.
“Teachers should be happy we aren’t all loud in class like we normally are,” Omar says to her, which really fumes her up.
“That’s the problem. You don’t even see the consequences of your actions. Life has been real good, for both of you. But I tell you what, if you don’t end this protest immediately . . .” And she doesn’t finish her sentence, she just picks up her phone and dials a number.
I’m wondering if she’s calling our homes, or the police. Finally she talks into the phone.
“Coach, yes. This is Dr. Jackson. That big press conference you scheduled for later today? Yes, the one for Omar Smalls to make his college announcement. Well, it’s canceled. Yes, I know. Hold on one minute.” She looks up at Omar, smiles, and says, “Consequences, Mr. Smalls, there are always consequences. And, Ms. Clarke, try me if you want, but don’t think I can’t shut down the Panther Pride website. You two can go now.”
Silent Treatment
by Claudia Clarke
Recently, on 103 Jamz, Omar “T-Diddy” Smalls told Deja Dee, the morning show host, “If you don’t stand for something, you will fall for anything.” The students at West Charleston High School have finally decided to stand up for themselves, and for what they believe in. A little over a week ago, almost eight hundred students rallied on a Thursday morning to protest arts funding cuts. Students packed the sidewalks and lawn around the high school in a show of support for teachers and the various arts programs that were affected as the city has grappled with cutting its budget. At the rally, Mr. Smalls tasked each student with remaining quiet during the first ten minutes of homeroom, in a show of solidarity.
“It has been an extremely peaceful and creative demonstration,” government teacher Mr. Washington said of the protest, which has now gone on for seven days.
“The administration is not pleased at what we’re doing. They’re even making threats against some students. But we will not stand by and let them destroy the very heart and soul of education: the arts,” an anonymous student texted.
“It’s hard to tell whether it will work,” Mr. Washington added, “but it’s definitely important for students to feel empowered.” When asked if the protest will continue, Smalls said check his Facebook page. Click here to visit Omar Smalls’s Facebook page.
Students Go Apes
by Blu McCants
In October, a group of students organized a movie night fundraiser to raise money for Save the Chimps, a Florida-based nonprofit that offers permanent care to rescued chimpanzees. The local West Charleston Movie Theater showed a special 3D screening of Rise of the Planet of the Apes and donated all proceeds from ticket sales and popcorn to the fundraising effort. Bananas were also given out to each moviegoer, courtesy of the Awendaw Farmers’ market. “We raised over five hundred dollars, which will go toward housing the more than three hundred chimpanzees who were rescued from a lab in Texas,” said Luther Lee, a coorganizer along with Claudia Clarke. “The animals were living in horrible conditions, and now they’re in heaven.” Not literally, of course. More fundraisers are being planned, as Save the Chimps is hoping to raise $10,000 to rescue more chimpanzees.
The “A” Word
by Claudia Clarke
Abortions in South Carolina rose 10 percent last year. According to a local study, the data shows higher rates of births and abortions among girls fifteen to nineteen. We’ve already talked about the staggering teen pregnancy numbers at our school, but this stat is outrageous, people. If we are to be productive women in this society, we must become better educated about abstinence and ways to avoid pregnancy in the first place. Whether you are pro-choice or pro-life, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we treat ourselves with respect. What matters is that we take our bodies seriously. Many girls use abortion as a form of birth control. That is ignorant and irresponsible. We have to do better, people. For more info on this matter, visit Planned Parenthood.
“You can’t get a dude, so you gotta steal mine.” I’m in the front yard waiting for Blu, minding my own business, when they come up.
“Kym, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answer, and wish I hadn’t told Blu I’d come to the house party with her.
“Come on now, Claudia, don’t get all scared now. You all up on his Facebook page and whatnot,” Eve adds, egging her on.
“He didn’t even get to do his big press thing ’cause of you,” Kym says. “It was his big day, and you ruined that for him.”
“How did I ruin it?”
“’Cause you triflin’.” Eve laughs. “I’m only gonna say this once. Stay away from Kym’s man, trick.”
Where is Blu? These girls want to fight.
“Hole up, hole up, I know you ain’t talking about me, Kym,” Omar says, with a beer in his hand. Not that I needed him to come to my rescue. Kym is silent now, like the people in the front yard watching us. “Pay attention, everybody!” he yells at the top of his lungs, and everybody stops and looks at us. People from inside the house start filing out into the yard. “Breaking news, people. T-Diddy and Kym King are no longer together. We broke up two weeks ago. Real talk!”
“Who you dating now?” somebody screams. T-Diddy, Kym, and Eve all look at me, and I want to be as far away from this nonsense as possible. So I go inside.
“Wait up, Claudia,” I hear Omar say, and by the time I get to the front door, he’s holding it open for me.
“What was that all about?” he asks.
“Like I should know,” I say, and roll my eyes. “It’s too crowded in here. Jeez.” I make my way over to a closed door, to get away from all the chaos while I wait for Blu.
When we get to the door, it opens, and Fast Freddie and Belafonte trail a hurricane of smoke.
“I don’t think you want to go in the hot box, homegirl,” Omar says, and pulls me away. “Let’s go out back and talk.”
“Here, take this,” I say, and hand him a mint.
“It’s just beer,” he says.
“It just stinks.” He pops the mint in his mouth. “Sorry about your press conference, Omar.”
“I ain’t bitter. It’s no big deal,” he says, trying to sound like it doesn’t faze him, but I can hear it in his voice.
“I know how important it was to you.”
“You want to make it up to me?” he asks with that evil grin he makes where one eyebrow rises. “Come with me to Folly.”
“Never give up, huh?”
“Seriously, let’s go for a walk on the beach. I need to clear my mind.”
“It’s not your mind I’m worried about.”
“I got a plan on how we can step up our game on this silent treatment.”
“How?”
“You’ll see,” he says, and part of me thinks he has no idea, but the other part of me can’t wait to see what he comes up with this time. “Let’s give these jokers one more week to do the right thing, and if they don’t, we’ll get three-six-mafia up in here.”
“Huh?”
“Start a riot.” I give him a look that says “You’re crazy.” “I was speaking metaphorically, Claudia.”
“What about Cru?”
“C’mon. She was trying to play us. I called the coach at Miami, and he said as long as I don’t kill nobody or end up in jail, my scholarship is good as gold.”
“Wow! You’re really serious about this.”
“When T-Diddy gets an idea in his head, he can’t let go. Gotta run with it till he scores. Feel me.”
“It’s too chilly to be walking on the beach.”
“It’s sixty-one degrees.” He shows me the temperature on his iPhone. “Come on, be spontaneous, homegirl.”
“Let’s dance, Mr. Football.” This is about as spontaneous as you’re going to get from me.
He grabs my hand, and we walk back inside to the dance floor. He can’t dance that well, but he’s tall, so all he really has to do is stand over me and wave his hands from side to side, which he does pretty well. The next song that comes on is a slow song, and he just looks at me. I see Kym and Eve eyeing me from the corner. Now what, heifers? If I wanted your man, I could have him.
I put my arms up around his neck. He slides his around my waist and then moves them to the pockets of my jeans. I move them back up to my waist. I see Kym gritting on me, so I pull him closer.