Chapter 3: Precarious and Undeniable Bodies: Control, Waste, and Danger in the Lives of a White Teacher and Her Students of Color

Erin breathes in deeply, sharply. She leans her body on the edge of the teacher’s desk for a moment, closes her eyes, and sees herself crumpling to the floor, curling up into a ball, letting everything go. Getting to the end of this 90-minute class feels impossible. She opens her eyes wide, looks out at the students sitting in rows in front of her working on their assignment, playing on their cell phone, doing nothing. She asked them to work quietly today. What a waste. She pushes herself up and off the edge of the desk, back on to solid ground. Maybe she needs to walk around, get her blood flowing, breathe and focus on something other than the pain of her cramps. Mind over matter. The doctors always said that her period cramps would get better as she got older. But they never really believed how bad it was. Her pain today is about as intense as it ever gets—and certainly as bad as it has ever been while she has been teaching. It feels like somehow it’s her fault that it’s still so bad, this invisible pain, that she’s 23-years-old and she doesn’t have control of her own pain and bleeding. She approaches a student sitting in the first row, “How’s your reading going?” she asks. He keeps his gaze down on his book, “It’s good, Miss.” Maybe they don’t notice. She wanders away from the student and across the front of the classroom; another wave of pain hits her. She clutches the waist-high stool in front of the chalkboard. Erin closes her eyes and drops into a crouch, clinging to the stool, then quickly pulls herself back up. When she turns around to sink onto the seat, she almost falls backwards. Then she sees them.