Most of my teachers loved me, especially in my early years when school came easy. I answered all the questions. I sought to please them. In more advanced classes, I struggled sometimes but I still displayed a passion for their approval. I was usually the only Black student in my Advanced Placement classes, a spot I earned with hard work and displaced motivation.
Coming up, it was rare to feel the sting of a teacher’s disapproving glare. I couldn’t even fathom feeling a teacher’s preexisting bias against me because of my skin.
Looking back, it was probably there at moments, but I never felt it. It is a lot easier to focus on academics and growth when you aren’t worried about being unfairly targeted.