Last night was quite the ordeal. I go to school the next day completely drained. I’m even so tired that I sleep soundly through my first class, which is my literature class. Not even Spree and his rambunctious companions wake me from my sleep. I only snap out of my slumber when the bell rings.

My classmates scramble at once and rush out the door. I hang my head as they go to hide the fact that I’m blushing from embarrassment. It’s not like me to sleep through class. Once the slowest student, Melanie, trickles out the door, I gather my books and rise from my desk.

“I’m sorry I feel asleep Mr. Jones. It won’t happen again.”

He looks at me and sighs defeated. I’m not quite sure what to make of his lethargic reaction, but in any case, I have to get to my next class, which is World History.

Rushing along, I speed through the hallways and arrive third to the class. The insufferable Shinji Ōkami and his best friend Houoh Hikari are the two there before me. Thankfully, they sit on the other side of the room unlike in my College Prep class in which Shinji sits beside me. It’s so annoying having to sit beside my mortal enemy.

Another three minutes pass before the rest of the class arrives and the bell signals for the class to begin. All of the students and I stand and bow to the teacher.

“Good morning Shishio Sensei,” we say.

He bows in return. “Be seated.”

We sit and the class begins. I smile to myself. World History is one of my favorite classes. Admittedly, the fact that I have something of a crush on Shishio Sensei has a lot to do with it.

Shishio Sensei reminds me of my father. He stands tall and straight with broad shoulders and defined muscles bulging just underneath his wrinkle-free clothing. He has slicked-back black hair, a stern face, and eyes that penetrate straight into a girl’s soul. Yet my favorite thing about him is his voice. He has such a deep and commanding baritone voice that I just want to close my eyes and drift into auditory ecstasy. I often fantasize of him calling my name and singing my praises. Of course, that never actually happens as Shishio Sensei is quite strict, hard to please, and not very personal with us students.

My esteemed educator clears his throat before he begins yet another riveting lesson on the wonders of history. He says, “Class, we the Chowan people are fortunate to have a robust history featuring many great heroes and time-honored traditions. One of our greatest traditions is passing on our knowledge of the martial arts from one generation to the next. However, a certain impurity threatens to unravel all of the great feats that our honorable ancestors have accomplished up to now, and that impurity is the invasion of foreign nationals who threaten to pollute our pure disciplines.”

Mmmm. His words are like honey. Even when he says– Wait. What did he just say?

“I’m very disturbed to hear that we have a dog in our midst lapping up things much too sublime for him. Edsão da Souza, I hear that you’re studying Chowan Karate. Is that correct?”

I look with alarm to Edsão. He’s an immigrant from Selva who sticks out even more than most immigrants because of his dark brown skin. The majority of the immigrant students face prejudice on a daily basis, but it seems like those with darker skin complexions are the ones who get it the worst. Edsão amongst them.

My Selvan classmate leans back in his chair. “I don’t need this today.”

Shishio Sensei raises his voice. “Answer me you banana-eating mongrel!”

Edsão stands to his feet. “Yes, I practice karate and I’m proud of it.”

Sensei snaps the piece of chalk in his hand. “And this is what I mean. Such a savage and inferior brute will only pollute our culture with his big lips and small brain. Who is your teacher? How dare he train you in karate?”

I wrap my arms around my stomach. I feel sick. Sensei is treating Edsão so unfairly. Maybe I should say something and stand up for him. But how can I talk back to a teacher? What if I make Shishio Sensei mad at me? What should I do?

My stomach bubbles like boiling water and I decide to do nothing. I empathize with Edsão because I, too, look different than the average Chowan, but this isn’t the time or place for me to say anything.

“My teacher’s identity is none of your business,” Edsão says. “But I can tell you that he’s a better teacher than you, you racist clown.”

Sensei’s face tightens with anger. Steam blows out of his ears. “How dare you, you black hunk of dirt?”

“Sensei,” Shinji calls, rising to his feet. “I disagree with your premise. You say that sharing our traditions with immigrants will pollute them, but I believe that it will enrich them. At the Ōkami dojo, we have a number of foreign-born students, and they’re some of the nicest and hardest working students that we’ve ever had. Given time, I think that the recent influx of immigrants will prove to be a boon for Cho.”

Sensei's aggression turns to him. “You dare speak against your teacher Shinji Ōkami?”

“No Sensei. I don’t speak against you. I speak in favor of immigration and for the good of Cho.”

“So be it Ōkami. If you sympathize with these foreign parasites that much, then you can both get out of my classroom right now. Of course, you’ll receive a zero for the day’s assignment.”

Shinji looks at Edsão and smiles with a nod of his head. “Alright Sensei. It’s your classroom.”

He packs his belongings and heads for the door with our Selvan classmate. Before he exits, he says, “Sensei, it’s your classroom, but it’s our country, and the young immigrants will be a vital part of our future. I suggest that you get used to it.”

With that, Shinji and Edsão depart. Shishio Sensei turns his attention to the rest of us with fire in his eyes. “Does anyone else sympathize with that banana-eating mongrel?”

I hang my head and keep my mouth shut. I sympathize with Edsão, but I can’t afford to receive a zero for the day’s assignment. I have to maintain flawless grades in order to earn a scholarship to Cho University. I’m sorry and I know that it’s not right to keep silent, but it’s the best thing to do right now.

No other students speak up. Shishio Sensei, feeling justified, rolls his shoulders and then proceeds with the day’s lesson, except unlike on an ordinary day, he doesn’t call on any of us to answer questions. He knows that all of us have been rendered speechless.