A First Grader's Lesson on Respect for Authority

During a conversation on Twitter today about high school, I made the comment that if I had the perception a teacher was abusing his or her authority, I would turn off my filter that was normally in place when dealing with my teachers.  I respect authority, mankind's hierarchical nature always causes leadership positions to emerge in society, and respect of authority is essential in maintaining societal structure.  But I view respect as something that is earned, not as something that's necessarily a given.  I do believe that positions of authority are inherently due a certain level of respect just by the nature of the position; however, an individual's actions while holding that position can cause me to quickly lose that initial measure of respect.  I do not believe in authority for the sake of authority, positions of power exist to protect the population at large, and to maintain social order and cohesion.  Any abuse of that power should not and cannot be tolerated.

I started thinking about it, and realized that I have had this point of view for my entire life.  I was a model student who was involved in all aspects of school life and never had disciplinary problems, but my past is peppered with examples of authority figures being surprised when I very vocally challenged them on abuses of authority and/or unfair behavior.  And when I challenged authority, I often emerged from the situation successfully.  My parents had a large part in shaping my personality, and it didn't take me very long to determine the roots of this particular characteristic.

I was born at MUSC in Charleston, SC, but at the time, my parents lived in Orangeburg, SC.  I lived in Orangeburg until the day before my seventh birthday, at which time we moved to Greenville.  I can remember being thrilled about moving, but then being surprised that my best friend cried when I told her.  In Orangeburg, we lived on five acres in a pine forest where we were unable to get cable TV and had to drive long distances to get to my friends' houses.  My dad would tape the Saturday morning cartoons on all of the network stations for my entertainment during the week.  Naturally, I experienced the greatest sense of excitement I had felt in the not-quite seven years of my life when my parents told me not only would we be moving to a neighborhood with other kids and a neighborhood pool, we would be getting the then-elusive cable TV.  Priorities!

Another new thing we had in Greenville was bus service to the elementary school.  My mom decided that to help with my independence and social interaction, she was going to have me ride the bus at my new school.  When my first day of school arrived, I was both excited and terrified of my impending adventure.  Mom drove me to school in the morning to take care of my enrollment, and then instructed me where to find the bus to ride home, handing me a piece of paper with the number of the bus that stopped in my neighborhood.

Until that point, I had never experienced any situation in which I felt shy (my parents have dozens of stories about me to that effect).  But starting a new school in a new town was a bit overwhelming.  Also, I had attended kindergarten and most of first grade at a public school in Orangeburg, which is an area of the state that is predominantly black - while it might seem odd, at that point, a mostly white school was a shift in demographics that seemed strange to me.  Even though there were more people who looked like me, the environment was very different from what I was used to.  I made it through the day, albeit with a great deal of anxiety, an emotion which I had never before experienced.  I was very ready to be at home when I made my way to the bus pickup line, filled with trepidation.

I was fairly terrified at the prospect of riding the bus in the first place, but I was sent into a near panic when I arrived at the row of buses to find they identified the bus routes by different colored flags, and there were no strings of numbers visible on the buses like the one on the piece of paper I clutched in my now-shaking hand.  There was so much activity going on, and I was initially paralyzed with uncertainty.  It took me several minutes before I was able to seek out an adult to help me find the right bus.  By the time I boarded the bus, the only seats available were in the very back row.

I nervously made my way to the back of the bus, feeling like I was being stared down by everyone I passed (it was mid-April, so all of the kids knew each other well and were acutely aware that I was the new kid).  The bus started for home with me riding in complete silence amidst the noise and chaos of the other kids, practically cowering with fear in the back corner of the last row.  I was completely unaware there had recently been a rash of discipline problems on this bus, that is until, to my great surprise, the driver started yelling at some of the kids to settle down, and threatening to turn the bus around, return to the school, and get the Vice Principal.  To my even greater surprise, he actually followed through on his threat.

Upon our return to the school, the bus was boarded by the Vice Principal.  The driver told her the kids in the back of the bus had ignored his directions to settle down, and she proceeded to write a referral for every kid sitting in the last three rows of the bus, which included me, and she yelled at us the entire time.  She was a scary looking woman who always had a scowl on her face, and I had never experienced that type of berating in my entire (short) life.  After all of the referrals were written, the bus route resumed.  It didn't take long for me to start sobbing.

A fifth grader a couple of rows up who had witnessed the whole event got my attention, and called for me to come sit with her.  I squeezed in between her and her friend, and she got me to stop crying by talking to me, asking me how old I was, where I was from, etc.  I can remember years later some of my older friends didn't like this girl and talked trash about her for some reason or another, but she showed me a level of compassion on that day left a lasting impression.  At a much younger age than most, I realized that kids say who say hurtful things about another kid usually don't know anything about the person in question.

While the kindness of the older girl definitely helped ease me a bit for the remainder of the ride home, according to my mom, when I got off the bus, I ran to her as fast as I could and hugged her more tightly than I ever had before.  She said she could feel my heart beating like I was experiencing gunfire, that it was beating as hard as if it was trying to pop out of my chest.  It took a few minutes for her to get the story out of me, but when she heard the details, she was beyond livid.

Within half an hour, I was back at the school, receiving in-person apologies from the bus driver, the Vice Principal, and the Principal.  They were completely unprepared for the wrath that is my mother when she's angry and determined about something.  I learned an important lesson that day.  People in authority are sometimes wrong, and the right thing to do is fight back against the wrongness.  My first day of school in Greenville was a terrible experience, but it turned into a valuable lesson that I still carry with me to this day.