I'll never forget my first sentence in English because of the feeling of terror which accompanied it. It was 1954 and I was a student in the segregated first grade class of Ms. W.
Joe Perez had been absent for about five days. On that fifth day, our teacher started yelling when Joe wasn't there to answer roll call. The few words I understood led me to believe that Joe was really in trouble.
Trembling I raised my hand and stammered, "The mother of Joe die."
That's how high the fence was between the white and brown worlds in our small town.