American History
Sitting in American History class in high school could be pretty boring, especially right after lunch period. Several students would use this time to take a quick nap, doodle in their notebooks, or, the more industrious ones would work on their math homework. There was nothing like the drawn-out, monotone speech of Mr. Davis to turn off the listening skills of thirty two teenagers sitting in a musty classroom on a sun-drenched afternoon.
But that afternoon was different. Marcus came to class that day all decked out in his latest new clothes. Marcus always was one for setting a fashion trend. On that day, fashion for him was a pair of tight-fitting, low cut, resting on his hips, dark brown bell-bottom pants with freshly polished, brown leather boots.
He wore a white polyester shirt with the pointed collar open just a bit, to give the girls something to think about. As he strolled into the classroom, Marcus casually removed his jean jacket and with the style and grace of a movie star, placed the jacket on the back of his chair. He could have given John Travolta a run for his money if the two were ever in the same room together.
Marcus was the most popular kid in class; the girls were always flirting with him and the boys were always hanging out with him in the hallway. He was charming. He was smart. He was funny. He never noticed the attention he drew when he walked into a room, which was one of the reasons so many of his classmates liked him.
About twenty minutes into class, as everyone was silently doodling in their notebooks or doing whatever, Mr. Davis asked the class a question. “Does anyone know what happened on December 7th, 1941?”
No one raised their hand. In fact, most of the class simply ignored the question. Those who were paying attention diverted their eyes in a failed but obvious attempt to appear invisible. Mr. Davis asked the question again.
“Can anyone tell me why December 7th, 1941 is an important day in American history?”
The classroom got very still and inaudibly quiet. Students shifted in their chairs. Pencils scribbled notes in open notebooks. As the teacher scanned the classroom, his eyes locked on Marcus.
“Marcus, can you tell me what happened on December 7th, 1941?”
“Sure”, Marcus said with a captivating smile, “but I didn’t think it had anything to do with American History so I didn’t raise my hand.”
A few chuckles and giggles came from the back of the room. The frantic scribbling stopped and the entire class waited intently for the next question from Mr. Davis.
“You didn’t think it had anything to do with American history?” Mr. Davis took a deep breath and put his lecture notes on the oak podium. Leaning forward, Mr. Davis spoke in a composed and measured voice.
“Tell me Marcus, what happened on December 7th, 1941?”
“Well”, Marcus said, “that was the day my mom was born. December 7th is her birthday. She was born at home, but that should not make it part of American history. I mean…she is an American and she was born here in the United States…but why would that make it important to us in an American History class?” Marcus flashed his best smile to the teacher.
“Really?”… Mr. Davis said; the skepticism evident in his tone and disbelief showing on his face. “You think that is the most important thing that happened in the United States of America on December 7th, 1941?”
“Well, it was pretty important to me.” replied Marcus. “Otherwise I wouldn’t even be here. Gee, Mr. Davis, I would not have been born if my mom wasn’t born first.”
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