Now this kid was shouting in my face. “You’ve got to help me, please!”
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“I just want to finish my pre-algebra worksheet,” he said miserably. “I’ve got a test in two days. I still don’t really understand the unit, and I actually find math pretty interesting. But my principal said we don’t get to study until we help stop the billionaire-imperialist war on Iran and make Congress defund ICE.”
“That seems like a tough assignment,” I said.
“Well, maybe he was exaggerating for effect,” the kid allowed. “At the rally, all the speakers were screaming about bombing some crazy farmers’ market way back in the day, and he was getting pretty worked up.”
“How can I help?” I asked.
“I just wanted to go sit on the bus and study a little bit. But the teachers said no,” he sighed. “Can you maybe boost me up through a window into that bus over there?”
At that moment, I saw another student trying to get on the bus, only to be yanked off the first step and frog-marched back into the rally by a sign-toting teacher in a yellow “My Heart Belongs to Hamas” t-shirt.
I turned back to the kid and saw a forlorn expression etched into his face. “I’m trapped,” he groaned. “My mom signed the permission slip for this ‘Day of Civic Action,’ and my teacher dragged me out here. Meanwhile, my buddy Carlos is out all week because he got hit by a bus. That lucky fool!”
A snaking line of teachers bobbed along to a drum circle, waving all manner of signs. One said, “A Woman’s Place Is in the Resistance” with a drawing of a lightsaber-wielding Princess Leia slashing Trump in the neck. Another read, “One less CEO, many more to go,” with a caricature of a buff Luigi Mangione holding a bloody head.
I thought it was a lot of decapitation imagery for a middle school field trip.
“Well, maybe you’ve learned something out here,” I suggested.
“Maybe if my test was to name all the ways Trump is a fascist and ICE is evil,” he said. “But I’m trying to make sure I can take algebra in 9th grade next year. This doesn’t really help with that.”
A handful of teachers tried leading students in a chant that sounded like it was supposed to rhyme “South Side” with “genocide” using crackly $8 megaphones from Walmart. But the students were busy taking selfies and posting Instagram stories, so it didn’t really take.
I turned my attention back to the poor unfortunate pre-algebra student. “Well, at least you’re learning about history here,” I said. “I mean, the Haymarket Affair really is a big deal. An unknown person threw a bomb at the police while they were breaking up a worker protest. Then there was a shootout, and seven police and several other people were killed. It set the labor movement back decades.”
“Wait, that’s what this is all about?” he asked, frowning. “That’s why the grown-ups are all screaming about blowing up cops? This is so cringe. It’s like they think we’re all anti-cop. But my cousin’s a cop. The cops stopped a mugger from hurting my auntie. I’m missing study hall so I can hear Mrs. Smith hyping up a bunch of cop-killers?”
“I hear you,” I said. “But I think your teachers just want you to put your civic education into practice. They don’t want you shut away all day just reading the Lincoln-Douglas debates and discussing the Bill of Rights.”
