My first protest.

My first protest.

I made my first protest when I was 11 years old and in primary school in Saint Ann, Jamaica.

There was no staff room at our school, so the teachers sat in our year 6 classroom and ate lunch at our desks.

However, after lunchtime, when we returned from playtime, we were faced with their dishes and empty soda bottles, which we had to clear away.

We were annoyed as they always told us to clean up after ourselves.

This continued for a while, and we thought there was only one way to solve the problem.

One of our classmates with the bestest handwriting wrote a simple note with words we all agreed on, but we knew that we could all be punished unless someone owned the note.

I decided to sign the note: Sherry-Ann Collins.

We left the note stuck to the blackboard and went out to play; it was lunchtime.

While having one of the sweetest games of Stucky – the one where there are two teams and a player from one team runs after the other to try and catch and stick them to the spot until their teammate comes by to release them – I get a tap on my shoulder from my classmate, who tells me the teachers are calling me inside.

I said, “Sure”, forgetting about the note.

When I got to the classroom, I saw the note in the teacher’s hand and remembered: “Oh, the note.”

The teachers asked me why I had left the note, and I told them. They said I was bold for leaving the note and that I would have to go see the principal to receive three strokes of the strap across the palm of my hand on the stage, in front of the whole school, after lunch.

Standing on the stage, waiting for lunch to be over, I was annoyed to be missing playtime. News spread about what was about to happen to me. I’d never had the strap before, so I didn’t know how I would react. All I knew was that pupils would sometimes cry when they got the strap, which was painful, especially since it was a piece of car tyre.

However, I decided that day, no matter how painful, I would not shed a tear.

First stroke, and then second stroke. After the third stroke, I rubbed my hand as it was stinging, but still no tears. And then the principal leaned into me and whispered: “You are right.”

I looked at her in shock, and a thought popped into my head: “A wha’ di bumbo-raaaaaaaaaaas-claaaaaaaaaaat you beat me on the stage in front of the whole school for if you agreed with me?”

Seeing through her, I came to a new realisation: even though they all knew the right thing they chose to follow the crowd, including the leaders at the top.

Silently, I left the stage and went back to class.

The teachers had a new reputation for me, “Sherry-Ann Collins, is bold.”

However, as I no longer mind what the adults thought of me, I quietly wore my reputation with pride. This inspired me to always ask questions of those in charge, the leaders, because if they couldn’t do the right thing, I might as well lead myself, living by my life lessons: treating people as I would like to be treated, making my own mistakes, and owning them.

The next day, no more dishes and soda bottles were left on our desks, or forever more, while I attended primary school in Saint Ann, Jamaica.

My first protest, had achieved results.

I was happy with that.

Life Lessons Learned.

The birth of a Freedom Fighter.

Best wishes,

Sherry-Ann Collins

Ms. Collins

Kenisha

Sherry Collins ( us )

Sherry

London, English (her)