The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth - Alexandra Robbins [18]
As she got lost on the way to the attendance office, Joy marveled at the differences she immediately noticed between her old Jamaica school and her new California one. This school was clean. There was no trash on the floor, which was carpeted, to her surprise. Here, decorations plastered the walls and classrooms had TVs and computers, whereas Joy’s old school had only desks, chairs, boards, and plain walls unadorned save for spatterings of graffiti. In Jamaica, students usually remained in one classroom—except for outdoor classes in drama, music, PE, and agricultural science—and the various teachers came to them. In California, the students moved from classroom to classroom. Joy would have to learn how to open a locker by herself.
This was a lot to take in, coming from a developing country. She loved Jamaica, its vibes and its landscape, if not its poverty and its violence. She wondered if the American school experience would resemble the big party portrayed on the Disney Channel. If so, she wondered if she was ready for that.
Her heart racing, Joy sat down in her first-period health class as she had been taught in Jamaica: her bag in her lap, feet firmly on the ground, hands at her sides. She had never taken health before. When the teacher announced a test, Joy blinked back the moistness in her eyes—hadn’t she had nightmares about being unprepared for a test? She stared at her paper, scrutinizing unfamiliar terms. Surely her classmates could see her pulse pounding hotly through her skin. They said nothing to her.
When the teacher told her he would not count her grade, Joy relaxed. She worked diligently until class ended. As soon as the bell rang, students sprang out of their seats. A few of them narrowed their eyes at Joy; she couldn’t help but feel it was because she was the only black person in the room. More than half of the nearly three thousand students at Citygrove, a public high school in an urban valley north of Los Angeles, were Latino, about 30 percent were white, and 12 percent Asian. Only 3 percent were black. Joy remained in her seat, following her Jamaican school’s rules, until the teacher told her it was okay to leave.
During a break before PE, Joy pulled a box of apple juice out of her drawstring bag and called her mother.
“Hi, Mommy,” she said.
“Hi, Joy, how you doing?”
“I’m fine.” Joy wiped away a rolling tear. She noticed a tall student who sat across from her in second period. She hoped he would say hello, but instead he gazed through her at the wall.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m on break waiting for my next class to start.” With her palm, she tried to catch the rest of the tears before they fell.
“Do you like the school? How’s your day going so far?”
What could she say? Everyone here in California had already adjusted to the new school schedule and formed cliques with friends whom they had known for years. Starting over is hard, whether or not you want to do it, she thought. It’s still morning and I want to give up. She promised herself that she would try her best to make this situation work.
Joy had moved from Jamaica so that her mother and stepfather, whom she loved dearly, could be together after two years of a long-distance relationship. She couldn’t tell her mother that already she yearned to go home. She was exceptionally close to her mother, but Joy didn’t want to tell her anything that would make her feel guilty about moving to the United States for her own happiness.
The bell rang. Joy wrapped up the conversation, glad that she didn’t have to answer her mother’s question.
In PE, a stout Asian honors student caught up to Joy and talked at her monotonously. Joy pretended