Uncle Sam's Nieces & Nephews
Excerpts

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Mr. Turner turned around and retrieved the airplane from his desk. The students laughed again. Mr. Turner placed the airplane in the trash and stared at them. It was times like this that Mr. Turner struck at their ignorance. He played mental games with them. Games that were designed to expose their benightedness.

"Well, class," Mr. Turner began, "can anyone tell me who assassinated President Kennedy?"
Scrams shook his head in despair. All of the students raised their hands.

"Kayla," Mr. Turner said, pointing to a pretty, brown-skinned girl.

"Lee Harvey Oswald," the girl answered, looking around proudly.

"Very good," Mr. Turner said. "Now who can tell me who assassinated Abraham Lincoln?"
Scrams cursed under his breath. Again, a slew of brown and black hands went high in the air.

"Russell," Mr. Turner said, pointing to a slim, unusually short fellow.

"John Wilkes Booth," the short fellow answered, smiling foolishly, and slapping a fellow classmate five as a sign of approval.

"Very good," Mr. Turner commended.

"Finally, who can tell me who assassinated Malcolm X?”

Somebody answer it, Scrams prayed. But not a single hand went in the air. The pretty, brown-skinned girl was no longer proud. The slim, unusually short fellow wiped the foolish smile from his face. And the rest of the students futilely searched the darkest crevices of their minds for the answer. None of the thirty-some-odd Black students knew who murdered one of the greatest Black leaders.