Same school, similar achievements, different skin: How race colors students' lives

WILMINGTON, Del. – As a kid, Omar Chatt could never wrap his head around why Rosa Parks wasn’t allowed to sit near white passengers on the bus.

Race was an occasional conversation topic among Omar and his parents, coming up only when his class reached the annual Black history lesson.

The realities of race gained new focus when he got his license. He was learning to drive, but he was also learning how to interact with police if he got pulled over.

“You have to stay still. You can’t be moving,” Omar said. “Seeing the blue and red lights, my heart is pounding. You think to yourself, ‘Wow, is this going to be my last moment?’ I get scared, but I just remain calm and say a prayer, ‘Lord, be with me now.’ ”

Will Rhodunda grew up being told police officers were the good guys, always to be trusted if he was in danger.

“When I started to be home alone, I was always told, if something is wrong, or there’s somebody at our house that’s not supposed to be, to call the cops,” Will said. “I’ve always trusted the police.

"I’ve woken up over the past couple of weeks to the fact that not everybody feels that way.”

In many ways, the high school lives of Omar and Will mirror one another. They each earned good grades at Concord High School in Wilmington, Delaware. Their schedules were filled with after-school activities, and both served stints as student council president.

They are both bound for college, graduating at a fraught time in the world as the country faces the uncertainties of a pandemic and a reckoning over its history of racism.

At 18, watching news of protests and police brutality through their phones, Omar and Will have a heightened awareness that no matter their similarities, the world sees them differently.

Omar is Black, Will is white.

Omar scrolls through social media videos of Black people getting arrested or killed, terrified that he or his family members could be next.

Will watches as police officers in riot gear confront protesters, pushing him to confront his own white identity.

Since the death of George Floyd on May 25, the nation has been reeling. Omar and Will search for answers, reading whatever they can get their hands on to fill in the gaps in their education on race.

They’re processing the confusion and anger of watching the country argue over race and police violence. They both reached the same conclusion.

Something in this country needs to change.

But like so many other Americans, they don’t know how to get there.

Lessons about race

Living on Wilmington’s east side with his parents, grandmother and four brothers and sisters, Omar remembers a dirt bike and the handful of times people attempted to steal it; an alleyway that would get broken into; and the drug sales that went on in clear sight in front of his house.

He and his grandmother witnessed a man getting shot while on their walk home.

“Little things like that. It wasn’t a nice neighborhood,” he said. “It definitely shaped me a lot as a person. And a lot of people would never expect where I came from at all. You would never know unless I told you.”

Now, the Chatts live in a North Wilmington home near Wilmington Hospital.

After a concussion in ninth grade ended his time on the wrestling team, Omar threw himself into other school clubs.

He joined student council, serving as president his senior year, and represented Concord students on the district-level council. He volunteered to serve meals at the Emmanuel Dining room and played tuba all through high school.

Omar started thinking more seriously about race and politics when Donald Trump was elected president. Suddenly, teens were arguing in the comments of Instagram posts over something the president said or tweeted.

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He started noticing quieter moments of racism as he moved through high school.

White students would casually drop the n-word in songs or conversation, claiming to have said it “by accident.”

When he worked in the front office, he noticed more Black students were written up than white students. (Nationally, a body of research reflects his observations: Black students are much more likely to be suspended or arrested in school.)

Omar asked his band director if the band could play works by more diverse composers, particularly for Black History Month. At first, he said, the director seemed dismissive of his request, but after more vocal complaints from Omar, the director came around.

Omar knows he has more to learn about Black history and race in America. He learned about the Rodney King riots only a few days after hearing about Floyd’s death. He said some of his peers are even more in the dark when it comes to police brutality against Black Americans.

“I have friends who are like, ‘This is the first time this has happened,’ ” Omar said. “No, the stuff we’re seeing today is stuff we’ve seen since the ’50s and ’60s. In our schools, we learn about Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks. But we don’t really get into detail about these subjects. How about you teach me what happened in the past, so we can be better off in the future?”

‘People don’t give a second look’

Five years ago, Will attended what he thought would be a normal baseball game. As he watched the Baltimore Orioles play the Boston Red Sox, riots unfolded outside the stadium after the death of Freddie Gray at the hands of police.

That moment, timed with Colin Kaepernick’s kneeling protest during the national anthem, was when Will said he came face to face with his shallow understanding of race in America.

Will grew up a 10-minute drive from Concord High in a neighborhood filled with manicured green lawns and neighbors who always greet each other on the street.

He’s lived in the house his whole life where his parents provided him a comfortable life growing up. He said he has never felt unsafe walking out of his home.

“People don’t question when I walk places at night if I’m doing something suspicious. People will always smile at me when I wave to them,” he said. “I feel like that’s how white privilege is, people don’t give a second look.”

He first saw the video of police officer Derek Chauvin pressing his knee into Floyd’s neck on Instagram. Will was disgusted, but he wanted to know the full story before passing judgment. As more details emerged, he felt “confusion, sadness and anger all around.”

“I was just embarrassed that as a white person, we have to be associated with someone who does something that harmful to another person,” he said.

Will watched as his social media feeds filled with posts about Black Lives Matter and violent protests across the country.

Friends on Instagram proclaimed they would end friendships with those who don’t support Black Lives Matter. Others accused those who stayed silent on social media of being complicit in the face of racism.

He worries that the outpouring of awareness online will be temporary and has noticed that people are less vocal than they were a few weeks ago.

“I definitely think there’s a pressure for you to post things,” he said. "If you’re not posting things, people are saying, ‘What the heck is wrong with you?’ ”

'They're watching'

Much like the protests Will saw in Baltimore, thousands marched through Wilmington and other Delaware cities in the weeks after Floyd’s death.

On May 30, protesters moved through Wilmington’s downtown streets, chanting the rallying cries of “No justice, no peace,” and “Black lives matter,” taking over I-95.

As day turned to night, lingering protesters smashed the windows of Market Street businesses, and police in riot gear ordered people off the streets.

Neither Will nor Omar attended a protest that weekend, but they saw the day unfold through social media. Confused and upset, they turned to their senior English teacher, Julia Overly.

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In the weeks since the protests shook Wilmington, Overly has fielded calls and texts from dozens of current and former students, all trying to get a sense of what is going on.

Will and Omar were eager to keep reading and learning into the summer.

“People assume teens are just into their phones and their sneakers,” Overly said. “No, teens are extremely passionate. They are emotional. But they lack the deeper history and life experience to fully process those feelings. They are much more socially aware with this topic than I think people give them credit for. They’re involved. They’re watching.”

The day after protesters marched through Wilmington, the Concord community gathered on the sidewalks as the class of 2020 paraded to the high school parking lot.

Will and Omar drove through the suburban streets with their classmates, waving at teachers and neighbors cheering them on with signs and balloons. It had been months since they’d seen their friends in person, after their typical high school lives ended abruptly on a Friday in March.

It was a happy occasion in the moment, the culmination of 13 years of schooling. In the fall, they’ll both head off to college – Omar attending the University of Delaware to study biology and Will majoring in international business at Elizabethtown College in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

For the two graduates, celebrating that sunny morning also felt strange, almost wrong, as the realities of the world loomed in their heads and on nearby streets.

“Seeing all my friends, it was the happiest we’ve all been in the past three months,” Will said. “We were all so happy, when there are people getting hurt and protesting the injustice in our country. I wish everyone could be as happy as we were that day.”

This article originally appeared on Delaware News Journal: Black Lives Matter: Race colors students' life at school