~springrain

When I was in the third grade, my school took part in a new, rather controversial experiment regarding racism and discrimination (it was the early 70's). Click here for more info: Blue-eyed/Brown eyed Experiment

As it is Black History Month, I've been doing some thinking about race relations, how it's effecte me, etc. etc. I was reminded of my third grade experience... and thought i'd pass it on.

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I fell in love for the first time in my life when I was nine years old. I guess an adult would have simply called it infatuation or adoration, but my nine year old heart couldn’t tell the difference. The person I fell in love with, was Mrs. Strickler, my third grade teacher. She was tall, almost reaching six feet. Her hair was a brown, to match her eyes, and she it in a straight bob that just touched her shoulders. She walked with incredible grace, and her somewhat deep voice, was soothing to the listening ear. What I saw, through my nine year old eyes, was the kindest person that God had put in this earth. Mrs. Strickler had a way of making us feel like we could do anything. She often pushed the class to excel, yet never went so far as to lose those who where struggling to keep up. To me, she was the most fair, and most giving person I had ever known. In the spring of my third grade year, she implemented a three day lesson plan that would change my life forever. Though I did not realize it at the time, Mrs. Strickler would help me form some very basic attitudes. Attitudes that would greatly affect the way I viewed myself and others, throughout the rest of my life.

The lesson began on a Monday morning. I walked into the classroom excited about the day to come. Mrs. Strickler had been reading Beverly Cleary’s Ramona the Pest aloud to the class everyday, and I was anxiously awaiting hearing the next chapter. Soon the bell rang and everyone settled into their desks. Mrs. Strickler was standing behind the podium in the front of the classroom. “Boys and girls,” she said, “from now on we are going to do little differently from the way we usually do.” We all eagerly waited in anticipation to find out what exatly she meant. Then she hit us with it. “I have come to learn” she said, “that brown-eyed people are much smarter and generally better than blue or green-eyed people.” The classroom fell silent. We all looked at each other in confusion. Mrs. Strickler then went on to explain that she had been conducting research on the topic, and the studies had clearly shown that brown-eyed individuals were certainly “better” in an overall sense than blue or green-eyed people. Being only eight and nine years olds, none of us where in a position to disbelieve what our beloved teacher had to say.

As I looked around the room, I could see that some of the brown-eyed children were smiling widely. I too, had brown eyes, yet was wondering if what my teacher was saying was really true. Then Mrs. Strickler made another announcement. “I’ve decided to let those of you with brown eyes go to the library, while the rest of you will have to stay in the classroom and do extra work.” All thoughts of confusion fled my mind. Now, all I could think about was an entire morning in the library! “Wow,” I thought to myself, “This beats Ramona the Pest any day!” I eagerly picked up my things, and walked down to the library with the rest of the brown-eyed children.

For the rest of the day, those of us with brown eyes were given special privileges. We were first in line for lunch, we received an extra hour of recess, and we all got to move our desks to the front of the classroom, while the blue and green-eyed children were forced to sit in the back. As the day progressed, I found myself expecting such special treatment from everyone. I was thoroughly angry when Mr. Bailey our gym teacher, did not give the brown-eyed children special treatment during gym class. Surely he had been told that us brown eyed children were superior to others! Soon, the day was over and I rode home on the bus that day with a new sense of confidence. I was sure that I had secretly known all along that brown-eyed people were better.

I walked into the classroom the next morning elated, wondering what other special things Mrs. Strickler had in mind for us. I proudly walked up to my seat in the front of the room where all of the other brown-eyed children were sitting. The bell rang, and Mrs. Strickler walked to the front of the classroom. I smiled up at her. "Boys and Girls" she said, “I have made a terrible mistake. It seems that it is the blue and green-eyed people who are smarter and better. I don’t know what I could have been thinking when I mixed it up yesterday.” My elation turned to nausea. “What did she mean she made a mistake?” I couldn’t believe this was happening. Mrs. Strickler immediately then made the brown-eyed children give up our front row seats and move to the back of the room. Confused, humiliated, and very angry, I made my way to the back.

For the rest of the day, it was the blue and green-eyed children who received special treatment. Not only were they allowed to spend hours in the library, and be the first in line for lunch, they were allowed to spend their entire afternoon in recess. Mr. Bailey, the gym teacher, had even treated them differently, allowing them to spend their class time outside on the playground! Apparently somehow had told him. It was so unfair! As the day progressed, I found myself getting very angry. How horrible and cruel it all seemed. I could not believe how badly they were treating us.

That afternoon, while all the blue and green-eyed children played outside, those of us with brown eyes were forced to stay in the classroom and work on long division. I sat at my desk, and sadly peered out the window to watch the other children. They smiled and laughed with each other while they played in the school yard. As I shifted my gaze to look around the classroom, I could see that some of the brown-eyed children were crying. Quietly, I lowered my head and buried my face in my arms as my own tears spilled down my cheeks. By the end of the day, I was totally exhausted. I shuffled on to the bus crying. I couldn’t wait to get to the safety of my home and all the was familiar.

The following morning was Wednesday. I slowly walked into the classroom and took my seat in the back. Soon, the room was filled with boisterous blue and green-eyed children. They were laughing and talking, still feeling elated from the previous day’s activities. I sat quietly at my desk, feeling alone and afraid. After everyone settled into their seats, Mrs. Strickler slowly walked up to the front of the classroom. She looked at us, and then without saying a word, turned around to write something on the blackboard. She quietly spelled out the word DISCRIMINATION in very large capital letters. There was complete silence in the room as she turned around to face us. "Does anyone know what this word means?” she asked.

We spend the entire morning talking about the word DISCRIMINATION and what it meant. Mrs. Strickler carefully explained why she had separated us from each other. She painstakingly answered all of our many questions. There was an incredible feeling of relief in the room as we continued to talk. Estranged brown and blue eyed friends once again smiled at each other, and soon everyone began to talk to one another with ease. Things began to feel normal again; yet they would never feel exactly the same. For the first time in my life, I looked at the children who were constantly teased or singled out in a different light. I began to realize what they must have been feeling all along. That afternoon, I rode home on the bus with Sheila Flatz, my “blue-eyed” best friend. I was so thankful that everyone was once again, back to normal.

As an adult looking back on the entire experience, I realize that I had no idea of the impact that three day lesson would have on my life. When I rode the bus home, on that last day, I was thankful that is was over, and everything was back to “normal”. What I did not see or realize then, was that I would forever look at life through a different set of eyes. Classmates from a poor family would no longer seem disgusting to me, children of a different race or religion would be less mysterious, less frightening; and anyone else who might be different or unique would seem less threatening. Not only did a nine-year-old girl in the third grade learn the meaning of the word discrimination, a soon-to-be young woman learned some very valuable attitudes that would follow her through the rest of her life.