The Courage of Children: Boston and Beyond XXX

Kora Kieta
Scott Larivee, Teacher
Mary Lyon K-8 School
My name is Kora Salief Kieta. The name Kora means peaceful warrior. My
mom has always said that the name really suits me. Generally, I avoid conflict
and tend to only speak up or even defend myself as a last resort. American
philosopher and poet Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “To be yourself in
a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest
accomplishment.” To me, this quote is about the courage it takes to stand your
ground and be who you are. To love yourself, even if other people might not.
I didn’t attend preschool or kindergarten. When I started the first grade I
was extremely nervous. I had traveled around the United States and been to
other countries, but I had never sat in a classroom before. A lot of the kids
were confused when they met me. Everyone assumed I was a girl because of
my name, and the hair past my shoulders didn’t help. At first everyone was
very welcoming and curious about me. “Why didn’t you go to kindergarten?
What kind of name is Kora?” But after a few weeks, a few of the kids began to
tease and make fun of me. One kid asked, “Do you put curlers in your hair
every morning before school?” Another kid said, “Did your mom name you
Kora because she wants you to be a girl? Is that why you have long hair?” It
was usually during recess, so I did my best to ignore these kinds of questions
and mean comments. I love my long hair and my name means peaceful
warrior. Whenever a mean comment was made I reminded myself of this.
Besides, most of the kids were nice to me and I didn’t want to get anyone in
trouble. So I kept it to myself. As time went on, the teasing got worse and
became harder to ignore.
After our Christmas concert we were all lined up and getting ready to go
back to school. Someone walked up behind me, yanked my hair really hard
and said, “Maybe it’s time for a haircut?!” It hurt so much I cried. I was
embarrassed, so I didn’t tell any of the teachers or adults what happened.
I didn’t say much on the way home, but when I got there I went straight to
the bathroom and found a pair of scissors. I handed them to my mom and
demanded she cut my hair or I would do it myself. She asked me what was
wrong and I began to cry. I told her how I had been bullied at school almost
every day for the past three months. “Why didn’t you say anything, Kora? Why
didn’t you tell the teachers?” It’s hard for her to understand, but I really don’t
like to “stir the pot.” And sometimes, telling makes it worse. She cried when
she cut my hair. I did too.
The Courage of Children: Boston and Beyond
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