Just now reading a piece in Smithsonian Magazine on Malcolm X. It reminded me of a time in the late 60s, early 70s when we taught quarter courses. It was a tumultuous time in urban schools and we did whatever possible to keep our kids engaged. Because of my friendship with the great guidance counselor, Sara Walker, my classes tended to be predominantly Black. In fact, one year I had one White kid out of 150 total. So, my Quarter Courses tended to run to Black Lit, Black Poetry, etc. It came to pass that I had the opportunity to have a guest speaker. I had a Black Muslim come in to address my kids relative to his beliefs. He was dressed to the nines and conducted himself beautifully. There was no hate speech nor negative vibe expressed. He merely laid out his beliefs. I soon found myself vis-a-vis with the principal. It was a cordial meeting but it was clear that any guests would need to be cleared in advance. Of course, I knew the ice was thin … I elected not to get pre-approval because I knew it wasn’t going to happen. We are so careful sometimes that we miss the opportunity to learn, to grow. I had no misgivings about taking that chance but I was also very respectful of direct orders from those who were my bosses. I never repeated the invite. To my way of thinking during those frightening times, it was an alternative to street life. Those young men and women were clean, hard-working, alcohol & drug free. That had a faith and a purpose. Yes, there were the far-left/right? haters of “Whitey” who leaned toward violence but the moderates had a good idea about the future of my street babies. Anyway, we learned that day and that was always a good day.