Can't Take That Away

by Steven Salvatore

“Ms. Wright,” he continues. “A few weeks ago you asked why we were still talking about Holden Caulfield’s hat. Perhaps it’s those moments when we lose our quote-unquote security blankets and see the world for what it truly is that dictates what we’re made of. Do we choose to take the world at face value, accept the phoniness? Or do we push back, try to create a better reality? Holden is one very narrow, very angsty teenage view of the world, which holds some truth but is also very pessimistic. He made up his mind about the world at sixteen. That’s the tragedy of Holden Caulfield.” He folds his hands, allowing his lesson to sink in.

My face scrunches in disgust. It’s not my job to have sympathy for someone who enacts violence against another person. It’s not up to me to fix him or talk to him. I’m so tired of having to compromise myself to make other people comfortable. I’m not doing it anymore, definitely not with Max. What’s crystal clear is that Max isn’t going to stop, and standing by and doing nothing is not acceptable. Maybe it never was, but I thought in the past that if I left him alone, he’d leave me alone too, which is naïve because it’s the same as pretending the problem doesn’t exist.

“The protest. Is this really necessary?” Janet thrusts the microphone toward me. “I think that’s a biased question. It’s our right to protest against injustices; it’s what the United States of America stands for. I shouldn’t have to feel unsafe or unwelcome in the school I go to every day because a teacher has incorrect views about queer people. Teachers like that shouldn’t be bankrolled by the school. My mom, a hard-working single mother, is a taxpayer, and her voice deserves to be heard too. So do the voices of the actual students.” I motion for the camera to pan for a view of the crowd. “Clearly they have something to say. This isn’t the first incident, and we’re hoping to put an end to them because no student deserves to be in an environment where they feel unsafe. So no, I don’t think we’ve gone too far. I don’t think we’ve gone far enough.” Janet turns back to the camera. “You heard it here, folks. Carey Parker of Sunnyside High School is fired up and demands action. They—” I interrupt her. “It’s not just me. Other students have had similar experiences with this teacher. Other teachers have dealt with this discrimination too.” I hope Mr. Kelly can hear me. “We’re standing up for both students and teachers. As students, we value our education. But if the administration is intent on protecting one teacher over protecting their students against hateful speech, then the school is not doing its job. We want accountability and transparency. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have ...

“Shawn,” one of the math teachers says pointedly. “What are you doing?” “What I was hired to do: standing up for our students,” Mr. Kelly says. “Care to join?” Principal McCauley paces. “If we won’t fight for our students, what are we doing here?” He asks. The math teacher nods in agreement. Mr. Kelly unlinks his other arm and pulls her into the fold. Soon, more teachers ask to join, until only a small fraction stand before us, refusing out of solidarity with Mr. Jackson.