(http://blackchristiannews.com/news/black%20teacher.jpg)<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/WYEK6.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name</strong>:  Elizabeth Goetz<br/><strong>Time</strong>:  Earlier in the current school year<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>:  No One<br/><br/><strong>"All right Elizabeth, out with it.  What's on your mind, kiddo?"</strong>Mr. Golden sat behind his desk and gave Elizabeth an encouraging look.  After school tutoring had been over for fifteen minutes and she'd been stretching out a math problem for longer than that, feigning not understanding it.  It wasn't the first time the cheerleader had been in his room after school, and he'd gotten to know her pretty well.  Well enough to read her moods and know when she wanted to talk about something that didn't have an X in it.<br/><br/>Elizabeth carefully laid her pencil down beside her notebook, then fiddled with getting it aligned just so.  Without looking up, she answered.<strong>"Mr. Golden?  Why are kids so mean to each other?  I mean, there's enough people in our lives trying to drag us down, so why do we do it to each other?"</strong>She brushed an errant bit of bangs out of her eyes and looked over at him.<br/><strong><br/>"Who's picking on you?"</strong>he asked with a frown.<br/><br/><strong>"No one.  I mean, it's not me.  Not exactly,"</strong>she answered.<br/><br/><strong>"Precision, Elizabeth.  Precision.  What do I say about it?"</strong><br/><br/>She sighed, but answered.<strong>"Concision in style, precision in thought, decision in life."<br/><br/>"And who said it?"  <br/><br/>"Hugo Victor."<br/><br/>"Victor Hugo,"</strong>he corrected.<strong>"What do you think he meant by it, Elizabeth?"</strong><br/><br/>She stalled by picking up her pencil and poking at the spring holding the pages of her spiral together.  Mr. Golden waited with his well known patience.  He never got mad, never yelled or punished the class.  If he was disappointed in you and gave you that teacher look, you felt so little you resolved never to do it again.<strong>"Don't think sloppily?"</strong><br/><strong><br/>"No, Elizabeth.  Decision in life.  Make your answer an answer, not a question.  Try again."<br/><br/>"Don't think sloppily,"</strong>she repeated, this time not letting her voice end on a tentative up note.<strong>"Get to the point without needless drama, don't think sloppily, make up your mind and stick to it."<br/><br/>"Not bad,"</strong>he allowed, sitting back a little in his chair.<strong>"So do it, child.  Do it."<br/><br/>"Yes, sir." </strong>Elizabeth.<strong>"Some of the squad are picking on another girl.  I don't like it, but I don't feel like I can do anything about it.  They're just so mean.  It's dumb.  So, maybe she like girls more than boys.  It's not like that makes her a bad person, right?" </strong>She looked for him to nod before continuing.<strong>"She stood up to them, not like, fists or anything, but she stood up to them."<br/><br/>"But you didn't,"</strong>he stated.<br/><br/>Elizabeth stared at him, amazed.  How did he always know stuff like that?<strong>"How did you-"<br/><br/>"Teacher magic,"</strong>he said, interrupting her.<strong>"What would Kant say you should have done?"<br/><br/>"Who can't have done what?"<br/><br/>"Kant, not can't.  Good Lord, do you children never read?"</strong>Mr. Golden shook his head, but not in a bad way.<strong>"It's not your fault.  It's this damnable curriculum we have now with all the testing.  He's a philosopher.  You'll study him in college.  Let me think about how to phrase this."</strong>He steepled his hands together and looked at the ceiling for a minute.<strong>"Was their behavior wrong?"<br/><br/>"Yes."<br/><br/>"And was she right to stand up against it?"<br/><br/>"Yes."<br/><br/>"If the behavior had been directed against another person, not your friend, would it still have been wrong?"<br/><br/>"Yeah.  I mean, yes,"</strong>she corrected when he looked down from the ceiling and fixed her with a gaze.  Mr. Golden hated sloppiness in everything.<br/><br/><strong>"So any person would have been wronged by it,"</strong>he concluded for the both of them.<strong>"If any person would be wronged, the behavior is categorically wrong and should not be tolerated.  You had a duty to stand up for her.  An imperative Kant called it.  Why didn't you?"</strong><br/><br/>Elizabeth squirmed and resumed picking at the edge of her spiral.  Mr. Golden waited, then when it became clear he stood up and walked over in front of her.  His hand, large and warm, descended atop hers and held it still.<strong>"Elizabeth, why didn't you stand up for your friend?"<br/><br/>"I was scared,"</strong>she said in almost a whisper, looking down.<br/><br/>He nodded, though she couldn't see it. His hand squeezed hers, then released it.  He went back and sat behind his desk then wrote something on a piece of paper.<strong>"Thank you for being honest, Elizabeth.  Inaction through fear and inaction through indifference lead to tragic results.  I want you to take this to synagogue and ask your rabbi about this man and what he said and why it's important to you."</strong>He placed the note on the edge of his desk.<strong>"Go on now, Elizabeth.  I have some marking to do." </strong>Mr. Golden pulled out a stack of quizzes and began to grade them, pen moving in precise strokes that left bloody grades behind.<br/><br/>After gathering her things, Elizabeth picked up the piece of paper and read the name; Martin Niemöller.  It didn't mean anything to her.  She hesitated, then quickly went around Mr. Golden's desk and hugged him from the side.  He smelled faintly of dry erase markers, his cologne and the heavy but pleasant scent of a fit man in his prime.<strong>"Thanks Mr. Golden," </strong>she said and then hurried out.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>