This story is one of hundreds Colin Flaherty planned to publish in a book before his death. American Renaissance will post one a week.
I came from a “do-gooder” family and was fed the story of black victimization for years. I truly believed it with all my heart and decided to become an inner-city teacher. I was determined to help right the wrongs done to these poor kids by “institutional racism” and do my part to educate them and help them escape from the yoke of oppression. Boy, oh boy, was I in for a rude awakening! From day one, my work life was a living hell. The young teens destroyed property, brutalized one another, and intimidated the staff. I caught teenagers smoking crack, 13-year-olds having sex in the bathroom, and kids bringing guns to school. Anyone who tried to learn and behave was beaten for “trying to act white,” and several girls who were known to be virgins were sexually harassed by boys and bullied by other girls until they would have sex. Neither the teens nor their parents placed any value on education, bettering themselves, or moving ahead in life. They were convinced that the white man was “keeping them down,” and that it was no use bothering, anyways. I eventually stopped insisting on parent-teacher conferences for the black students because not a single parent would show up. Ever.
I was constantly threatened by students and physically assaulted on several occasions. One time, a 15-year-old black girl got angry at me because I told her to stop texting during class. She stood up on her desk and started performing a strip tease. By the time security arrived, she was down to her underwear and the black boys were surrounding her, howling like wolves, and stuffing dollar bills down her panties.
At lunch, the teachers would practically run to the faculty lounge and cower for the entire break, nervously trading the day’s horror stories with each other. Classrooms would constantly be broken into during breaks and their contents either stolen or vandalized. The school lost two kids that year to drive-by shootings. One was actually shot on school grounds one weekend. The other, a quiet, well-behaved kid, was killed when he got curious about the sounds from a drive-by, and went to his window to see what was causing the noise.
These kids knew full well how to work and exploit the race card, too. There was also an unspoken rule among staff that we were to give the black kids lighter punishments. An offense that would have gotten a white, Hispanic, or Asian student suspended, for instance, would have gotten a black kid only two days in detention. Whenever a black student was suspended, the parents who we never otherwise heard from would suddenly call the school in a rage, and threaten to call the NAACP and file a lawsuit. The school was terrified of being called “racist” and caved every time. On one occasion, a friend of mine was finally able to get a particularly vicious black girl expelled after several violent incidents. The mother threatened to go to the news channels about the “racist school” and the day after she was formally expelled, the superintendent personally escorted her back into the school and demanded she be reinstated. After this, the girl knew she could act with full impunity and behaved even worse.
Crime in the city was terrible, even in “safe” neighborhoods. Several of my neighbor’s cars were stolen off the street during the night. Another time, a black friend of mine and I came back to his apartment after taking his daughters out for ice cream. We came back to find that somebody had pried the security bars from the windows, broken in, and stolen everything of value. A year after I moved away, the city declared bankruptcy and was forced to cut its police force in half. Then things became anarchy and thugs began brazenly killing each other in broad daylight. In one instance, a black teenager walked straight up to a rival gang member in a downtown McDonald’s, killed him with a shot to the head, and calmly strolled out while patrons screamed in terror and fled. It barely even made the news. I left teaching after that year, moved away, and went into corporate work. Whenever I tell my liberal friends about these experiences, there are only three responses:
- They deny it.
- They say these things are the consequences of racism.
- They accuse me of hating black people and being racist.