My friend Paul was brilliant. He had several interviews for medical school. At the conclusion of his interview at Harvard the person interviewing him said you have a great application but you have a few too many vowels in your last name. His last name was Randazzo. He didn’t get in.
The mix of students in my Keyboarding/Microsoft Word class at Nassau Community College last year would be best described as eclectic—socioeconomically and ethnically diverse. And the professor who taught the class was tired in every sense of the word. She had little tolerance for anyone and anything. And the syllabus was strictly adhered to--she demanded that by the end of the first week of the course, all students purchase and bring their textbooks to class.
So when a young West Indian boy appeared to not have his textbook on the Monday after the first week, she made him stand up. She asked him in front of the entire class if he had his textbook. And he said he did not. And she got angry and said You people think you are above the rules. I told the everyone to have their text book by today. Every student here has one. You people think that you can get away with not doing your work and then expect to pass. Would you like to tell me where your book is? Did you even buy it yet? And the boy with eyes cast downward in a solemn and contrite tone said I could not buy the book because I did not have the money. There was a mix-up in the financial aid office and they did not have my voucher ready. But even though I did not have my book I wanted to come to class anyway. I did not want to fall behind. If you want I will leave.
And I wanted to smack the teacher for being so rude and disrespectful and I wanted to give the kid the money myself—I felt so embarrassed for him. But the Hispanic girl who sat near him spoke out and said I work in the financial aid office. I will help you after class. And the Hispanic girl asked the professor if the boy could share her book with her for class that day. And the professor said fine but you better get him that book.
When I first began work I noticed that the other female workers who were a couple of years older than me sort of snubbed me. I thought it was because I was younger than them. On a December day I was talking about how our family was putting up the Christmas tree that upcoming weekend. I was in the employee’s lounge. And one of the girls who had been unfriendly to me interrupted my conversation from the adjacent table and said Why would you put up a tree? And I was confused. And my boss who was sitting next to me said She’s Catholic. And the girl said Really? I thought you were Jewish. And I said What made you think that? And she said you are always wearing nice clothes and big jewelry-- and you were friends with Barbara Horowitz. So I just figured you were Jewish too. And although after that revelation the girls treated me more kindly, it altered what I thought of them. I understood anti-Semitism—and I never forgot its sting—despite being a Christian.
I have my own prejudice—it is against stupid people. I hate stupid people. I also hate people with little or no class. And stupid (and classless) people come in all colors and from all religious and ethnic backgrounds—it has nothing to do with intellect or finances either. It is based simply on the ugly within.
On an Oprah show I once remembered her saying that people are just souls walking around wearing different (physical) outfits. It’s a rich thought. Stupid people use physical outfits to make their negative judgments. For them acceptance is skin deep or dependant on the spellings of last names. I have no patience for that. I am an equal opportunity hater—my hatred is blind to physicality.
And in case you were wondering: Paul Randazzo went to Brown---he chose it over Yale. And the West Indian boy eventually got his book and survived the course. And I made a point to teach my girls religious tolerance because that is what Christians are supposed to do—love thy neighbor as thyself.
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