White Boy In Da Hood
Growing up in Detroit as a small thriteen year old white boy was both difficult and scary. You had to watch where you walked, talked to, and most importantly, who you respected. I followed all of these small rules my entire life until my ignorance got to me, this is where things got interesting. The class bell rang with a rusty ding as I looked up from my math book to realize that the school day was finally over. “Remember class, tommorrow is our biggest test yet! Study up!” I heard the teacher say loudly. Most likely to try and talk above the kids loud voices and laughs. As always I slowly put my math book away slowly as well as my other school supplies and trudge out of the class. Being the last one …