Showing posts from June, 2014

Thinking of a Master Plan

When I was ten, my mom moved me to a better school across town.  It was this swanky, Catholic school in a neighborhood with private streets and black nannies.  I remember feeling like a cassette tape in a CD player.  The kids looked different, they sounded different and definitely acted different.  They were nice enough, and some remain my dear friends to this day. However, there were things about me I knew they'd never understand and by virtue of my being immersed in their neighborhood, everything about them that I didn't understand, I had to learn. 
I took the Q60 to get there.  A bus that ran along Queens Blvd in Queens.  It began in South Jamaica and ended in Astoria, just outside of Manhattan.  I lived on the Jamaica end, in a then predominately black middle class neighborhood, and my new school was in Forest Hills, a predominately white wealthy neighborhood somewhere in between.  I remember sitting on that bus in my plaid, green school uniform and watching as the neigh…