Theme for English B
The instructor said,
Go home and write (1 page tonight. And let that page come out of you Then, it will be truc.
I wonder if it's that simple? lan twenty-two), colored, born in Winston-Salem, I went to school there, then Durhamn, then here to this college on the lill above Harlem, I am the only colored student in my class. The steps froin the hill lead down itito Harlern, through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas, Eighth Avenue, Sevent, and I come to the Y, the Harlein Branch Y, where I take the clevator up to my room, sit down, and write this page:
It's not easy to know what is true for you or me at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what I feel and see and hear, IJarlen, I hear you: hear you, hear me-we two-you, me, talk on this page. (I hear New York, too.) Me-who? Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love. I like to work, read, learn, and understand life. I like a pipe for a Christmas present, or records-Bessie, bop, or Baclı. I guess being colored doesn't inake me not like the same things other folks like who are other races. So will my page bę colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white. But it will be a part of you, instructos,
You are white yet a part of me, as I am a part of you. That's American. Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of ine. Nor do I often want to be a part of you. But we are, that's truc! As I learn from you, I guess you learn from me although you're okler--and white--- and somewhat more free,
This is my page for English B.