Life lessons come in many forms

Ilearned more about life from the kid sitting next to me in Spanish II than I did from the lessons being taught.

It was 1961. I was enrolled in an elitist Washington, D.C. suburban private school but couldn’t get all the requirements done for college acceptance. So I attended the public Bethesda-Chevy Chase High School (otherwise known as B-CC) summer session.

Can’t say I was looking forward to it. Summers were hot, and back then schools did not have air conditioning.

It was an upper middleclass neighborhood. Kids in the course were all white except for the young man sitting next to me. He was an African-American from inner city Cardozo High — an all black school in our nation’s capital.

I could see he was uncomfortable with his surroundings because in those days, a black kid was a rarity in this neighborhood.

To ease his fears, I struck up a conversation. He said he needed the credits and his aunt lived nearby. He used her address to attend the class.

Soon we became friends, as both of us felt out of place in this environment. Of course, he knew no one at this school and neither did I.

At the time, we were not great Spanish students. It was uncommon to find someone in the D.C. area who spoke it. Most kids were taking Latin, German or French. These favored European languages were “in.” Spanish was more of a West Coast pursuit.

The teacher was friendly and enthusiastic. But trying to learn a year of Spanish in six weeks was not an easy task — especially when the first year had not gone that well.

Ray and I soon learned that the best way to succeed was to help each other by forming a partnership.

During times when called on individually, I would “cue” Ray and he would do the same for me. Sharing notes and homework was another way we learned during the compressed time restraints.

As days went by, Ray became more comfortable. Other students looked at him with curiosity, but basically ignored his presence.

During the breaks, we would talk about things most teenagers did, such as cars, girls, family and sports. We got to the point were we could tease each other regarding stereotypes people had about both of our social classes. We found out there was a lot more in common between us versus differences.

Both of us made it though that summer class successfully. On the last day, we embraced and said our goodbyes. We knew we would never meet again.

Despite the prejudices and social conditions of the times, I often wondered what united us? Later in life, I concluded it was our basic natures beneath the skin colors.

You see, I never felt comfortable with East Coast elitists that were the core of my life in those days. I was a California boy thrown into an environment by my father’s occupation, which did not really fit my pedigree.

At the private school, there were kids beyond my social class with goals that seemed foreign to me. All were striving to enter prestigious Ivy League institutions. No one was interested in a trade or working on cars after school. I was rubbing elbows with youth who came from powerful political backgrounds with family histories that dated back to the 18th century.

I remember an acquaintance named Joseph, who took me to his home. It was a Maryland country estate, which had been in his family since 1790. I recall the circular staircase inside the three-story mansion. He cruised to school in a year-old Cadillac Fleetwood while I commuted from our split-level home in my mother’s faded silver Plymouth.

Joe was a nice enough kid, but I knew I would never fit with his crowd. His goal was to attend Harvard Law, as his father and grandfathers had done. My goal at the time was to return to California and live in a tiny Mother Lode town of former merchants and gold miners where my ancestors had once resided.

So the bottom line was that Ray and I were both down-to-earth people, who were not good at trying to fit someone else’s expectations. Today, I believe this issue was the main bond between us.

I often think of Martin Luther King Jr’s. most famous words, which were: “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of the skin but by the content of their character.”

When I watch major news sources today and see what is being pushed by some schools and corporate America, I fear other generations may have missed Dr. King’s point.

Ray and I cared about each other. That seemed to be far a more effective way of transforming our country into a better place, as opposed to stereotyping people by skin color or politics — therefore making America a very bitter place.