I drummed my fingers on the edge of the long table, slouching in the hard chair. On my left and right at the long, front-row table were three friends, who seemed to have an easier time sitting up and paying attention to social studies than I did. I snapped my attention back to the teacher; he was talking about Black History Month. I glanced at the clock by the door, hoping we were almost done class. I did some stretching in my chair, turning left, turning right, turning around. I kept fidgeting and turning around, looking at my other classmates to see if they were bored too. We had one girl with dark skin in our class, Sarah, and she was seated in the back row. I wondered if she already knew everything the teacher was talking about. 

My thoughts are brought back to the present. I’m seated in the principal’s office, door closed, next to my friend, Melissa, the morning after that class. We’re discussing the incident that happened after school yesterday: right outside the school doors designated for our grade, I passed four kids from the older grade in my class. They all stared at me as I walked towards the edge of the playground, until one of the older boys ran at me with his arms out wide, and plucked my toque right off my head. It was a joke to them, but I felt panicked and humiliated. I responded by trying to stand my ground and making a big swing to grab it back. The kids gave it back after a minute or two, laughing, before I ran home. I didn’t tell anyone, but somebody must have because the principal had called me into the office today to talk about it; he called Melissa as well, even though she wasn’t there, so I didn’t feel so nervous. 

The principal says, “it sounds like the kids who took your toque felt like you were staring at Sarah during your class yesterday because you were talking about Black History Month. She’s their friend, and they felt like you were judging her.”
I feel so scared of getting in trouble. “I didn’t mean to stare at her… I look around at everyone.” I think harder about the class, and about what the other kids could have thought about me. I was turning around a lot, and she was in the back row. She is the first girl I have met with dark skin. She has long hair in tight, tiny braids. She’s popular, always smiling at some private joke with her friends. I don’t know her well because she’s in older grade and this is my first class with her. I was looking at her in the class. I don’t think I was judging her, I have no problem with her being darker than me, but I feel ashamed that the other kids feel that way. 
“I think trying to get your toque back was a reasonable reaction when a bigger kid comes at you, but next time try to get a teacher. And maybe just keep your eyes forward in class from now on.”