Notes from public school - day 118

When I was in elementary school, I did a book report on The Contender by Robert Lipsyte.

I chose it because of it’s cover.

There was an illustration of a young black man with a towel around his shoulders and white tape around his hands, showing me that he was a boxer.

You might be surprised to learn that I’m a boxing fan.

I’ve been deeply influenced by the pacifism of my Anabaptist forbears and the non-violence teaching of my Civil Rights Movement forbears.

I don’t even like to squash a bug if I can help it.

“Ooh, there’s a bug in the hallway!” exclaim students at my school. “Get Mr. Barton so he can scoop it up and let it go outside the door.”

That’s the kind of person I am.

I don’t like professional boxing because it has a lot of pizzazz associated with it and I’m not a pizzazz kind of person.

I do like amateur boxing, though, because in it I find some of the essence of life - self discipline, courage, persistence, intelligence, respect, confidence and humility.

The Contender tells the story of Alfred Brooks, an inner-city kid who drops out of school and works as a sweeper and stocker in a family owned grocery store.

His best friend, James, is falling into gang life and Alfred is trying to save him before he is lost to the streets.

James gets arrested for breaking into and stealing from the grocery store where Alfred works.

One night, after James’ arrest, Alfred walks up the rickety, dimly lit stairs of Donatelli’s Gym, where he meets Mr. Donatelli, a grizzled, old boxing trainer who is much like the beloved Micky in the Rocky movies.

Alfred becomes a boxer and learns that he must become a contender before he can become a champion.

There is a quote from Mr. Donatelli that I always keep close to me.

“You have to start by wanting to be a contender,” he tells Alfred, “The person coming up, the person who knows there's a good chance you’ll never get to the top, the person who's willing to sweat and bleed to get up as high as your legs and your brain and your heart will take you.”

I think about these words each morning I open my eyes to a new day as a teacher and a writer.

They inspire me to be a contender like Alfred is a contender.

In that first reading, I realized that I’m the black, inner-city kid on the cover and he is me.

What an important thing for a ten year old to understand.

I’m thankful I learned it in the Taylor’s Elementary School library,

It’s a story about friendship, too.

One of the most moving scenes I’ve ever read in literature happens at the end of the story.

Alfred climbs into the old hiding spot where he and James go when times get hard, like when James’ alcoholic, abusive father lashed out at him, like when Alfred’s mom died from cancer.

James is there.

He is running from the police because he has broken into the grocery store again, this time through the front window, where he has cut himself real bad.

“Alfred felt James’ outstretched arms around his neck. Slowly, he pulled James out of the cave into the biting wind.

‘Easy, man, you be all right.’ He lifted James to his feet and half-carried him through the stunted trees. James moaned.

‘Hang in there, James. Can you walk?’

‘Try.’ He leaned heavily on Alfred. ‘Weak as a baby. Lost all that blood.’

‘Don’t worry about that, James, I got plenty of blood for you.’ Carefully, Alfred guided him over the rocks and bushes and the new snow, toward the lights of the avenue.”

In that first reading I realized that friendship is everything, that carrying your friends, that being carried by your friends, is everything.

I’m thankful I learned that, too.

All in a library in public school.