The Terrorists of Chocolate CityChapter 1 |
by David Rambeau |
The BPG (Black Parents Group), modeled after the Soviet Union's notorious KGB, had by unanimous, ear-shattering acclaim at its annual dinner meeting decided that these defilers of the youth, these so-called "math teachers" would be taken to task. They would be hunted down, arrested by the Gang Squad in morning raids at Chocolate City's elementary and middle schools, and summarily brought to justice. None would be overlooked; none would escape. They would be routed out and replaced by youthful Ivy League idealists freshly graduated from eastern university teacher education programs, and primed to descend upon the inner city without experience, savvy or cultural connection. Whatever the incongruity, these White Knights of the Ivy would be thrust on the woe begone colored chillen of Chocolate City to reclaim them from grade lagging test performance in urban schools throughout the nation. This operation, code named 199, was not merely the diktat of the Educational & Political Establishment; it was a mandate from on High as surely as the 10 Commandments Moses got millennia ago. With that charge from their Leader, the spectacularly dressed women of the BPG leapt to their feet and burst into religious utterances that rocked the foundations of the downtown hotel as deeply as the earthquake of 2010 rocked Port au Prince. Thunderous voices in no need of electronic amplification shattered glassware for miles around. Only exceptional European-American engineering prevented the multi-storied hotel from collapsing in a mountain of rubble. Fire alarms went off in the hotel, car alarms went off in nearby parking lots, Homeland Security put out an amber alert. Armageddon was at hand. In an ironic twist of fate it appeared the math terrorists of Chocolate City days were numbered. However, little did these zealots know they had been thoroughly infiltrated by the Chocolate City Council of Math Teachers (CCCOMT). The doormen who greeted them when they entered the hotel, the parking jockeys who had parked their luxury cars, the janitors who had cleaned the room and set up the tables for their banquet, the kitchen and wait staff who had served the food, the bartenders who provided drinks, the security people who protected them, the technicians who recorded every word, and finally the taxi drivers who transported those who couldn't afford limos; all these were moonlighting math teachers of Chocolate City. Before the last drip of fried chicken grease could be mopped from the lips of these matrons of vengeance of the BPG, the last stain of macaroni and cheese wiped from their bosom covering bibs, the CCCOMT was already outfitting its war room where a counter-attack would be devised down to the last polynomial, down to arithmetic algorithms, down to the least common denominator. The Council of Math Teachers of Chocolate City would have all its graphs plotted, all its functions integrated, and all its integers added up. A luta continua..... |