I want all of you to take a good look at these people on the risers behind me. These people have been here roughly five years, and done absolutely nothing. These people are drug dealers and drug users. They have taken up space. They have disrupted this school. They have harassed your teachers. And they have intimidated you. Well, times are about to change. You will not be bothered in Joe Clark’s school. These people are incorrigible. And since none of them could graduate anyway…
… you are all expurgated. You are dismissed! You are out of here, forever. I wish you well! Mr. Wright…
Next time, it may be you. If you do no better than they did, next time it WILL be you. They said this school was dead, like the cemetery it’s built on. But we call our Eastside teams “Ghosts”, don’t we? And what are ghosts? Ghosts are spirits that rise from the dead. I want you to be my ghosts. You are going to lead our resurrection, by defying the expectation that all of us are doomed to failure. My motto is simple: If you do not succeed in life, I don’t want you to blame your parents. I don’t want you to blame the White Man. I want you to blame yourselves. The responsibility is yours! In two weeks we have a practice exam, and on April 13th we have the Minimum Basic Skills Test itself. That’s 110 school days from now. But it’s not just about those test scores. If you do not have these basic skills, you will find yourselves locked out. Locked out of that American Dream that you see advertised on TV, and that they tell you is so easy to get. You are here for one reason. One reason only: To learn. To work for what you believe in. The alternative is to waste your time, to fall into the trap of crime and drugs and death. Does everybody understand that? Do all of you understand me? Then welcome to the new Eastside High.
You think you run this school? If you could, then I wouldn’t be here, would I? No one talks in my meetings. No one! You take out your pencils and write. I want the names of every hoodlum, drug dealer, and miscreant who’s done nothing but take this place apart on my desk by noon today. Reverend Slappy?
You are now the Chief Custodian, Reverend Slappy. You will scour this building clean. Graffiti goes up, it’s off the next day. Is that clear?
Detention students can help you. Let them scrub this place for a while. And tear down those cages in the cafeteria. You treat them like animals, that exactly how they’ll behave.
This is my new Dean of Security, Mr. William Wright. He will my Avenging Angel, as you teachers reclaim the halls. This is an institution of learning, ladies and gentlemen. If you can’t control it, how can you teach? Discipline is not the enemy of enthusiasm! Mr. Zirella?
Mr. Zirella, you are my new head football coach. Mr. Darnell? Stand up, Mr. Darnell.
Mr. Darnell will be your assistant. You know why you’re being demoted, Mr. Darnell? Because I’m sick and tired of our football team getting push all over the field. Thank you, sit down!
I want precision. I want a weight program. And if you don’t like it, Mr. Darnell, you can QUIT! Same goes for the rest of you. You’ve tried it your way for years, and 60% your students – excluding those with criminal records – 60% of them can’t even pass the state’s Minimum Basic Skills Test. THAT MEANS THEY CAN BARELY READ! They’ve given me one school year – less than 12 months – to turn this place around, to get those test scores up, so that the state will not take us over to perform the task which YOU have failed to do: TO EDUCATE OUR CHILDREN! Forget about the way it used to be. This is not a damn democracy! We are in a state of emergency and my word is law! There’s only one boss around in this place. And that’s me, the H.N.I.C. Are there any questions?
Now, let me tell you something: The trouble with being a teenager is you don’t know nothing. The problem with teenagers is you THINK you’re smarter than people who’ve already been down the road you’re traveling. You know what I’m trying to say, boy?
DO YOU?
It kills your braincells, son! It kills your braincells! Now, when you’re destroying your braincells, you’re doing the same thing as killing yourself; you’re just doing it slower! Now, I say if you wanna kill yourself, don’t fuck around with it! Go on and do it EXPEDITIOUSLY! Now go on and jump! JUMP!
Alright, Sams, I’ll tell ya what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna go back on my own word, just this once, and let you back into my school… ’cause you’re still a baby and you don’t know shit.
But you understand this, boy. You’re not gonna get a moment’s rest! I’m gonna be on your case every minute! You mess up just once and you’re outta here! Now you understand me?
Mr. Major, on behalf of myself and on behalf the students of Eastside High, you can tell the State to go to hell!
All right, people, here we are. In one hour, you will take an exam administered by the State to test your basic skills… along with the quality of education at Eastside High. Before that, I want to tell you what many people are saying about you, and what they think about your chances. They say that you’re inferior! That you are just a bunch of niggers and spics and poor white trash! That education is wasted on you! That you cannot learn! That you’re lost, all of you! So I want all the white students to stand up. All of my white students, stand up! Come on, don’t be shy. Stand up!
These are my white pupils; as you can see, they’re the same as everybody else! They’ve got no other place to go. Otherwise, they’d have abandoned us a long time ago, just like everybody else did! So here they are at Eastside High, with the rest of us. You can sit down.
Are you getting my point, people? Am I getting through to you? Whether we sink or we swim, whether we rise or we fall, WE MEET OUR FATE TOGETHER!
Now, it took the help of a very good friend to make me know and understand that. And I do understand that, and I’m grateful. I’m eternally grateful… And now, I’ve got a message for all those people out there who’ve abandoned you and written you off! Can you hear me? Good! You are NOT INFERIOR! Your *grades* may be. Your *school* may have been. But you can turn that around, and make liars out of those bastards, in exactly one hour… by taking that test, and passing it! So, here’s what I want you to do: Whenever you find your thoughts wandering – and don’t say that’s not gonna happen – I want you to KNUCKLE BACK DOWN! Remind yourselves what’s at stake, and show what Eastside High is all about!
… I want all of you to take a good look at this slovenly, sloppy boy – as an example of how NOT to dress. If you look like THIS in the morning, find some other clothes to wear. Self-respect permeates every aspect of your existence. If you don’t have respect for yourself, you’re not gonna get it from anyone else.
… You ask, “How do we get the students in on Saturdays for remedial reading?” So I’ll tell you how: We’ll go to their homes. We’ll talk to their folks. If their folks can’t read – as some of them indeed cannot – then they can come in, too. The only way we’re going to get anything done around here is to get everyone involved! That goes for all of you: it’s time to GET INVOLVED! Everyone in this section, put both your hands above your heads. Raise your hands! PUT THEM UP!
You people represent the 70% of our students who just failed the practice exam. SEVEN OUT OF EVERY TEN STUDENTS! But that is not THEIR failure. I don’t blame THEM. The problem is with YOURSELVES! How many hours do you spend preparing your lesson plans? How often do you stay after school to give your students, THE ONES YOU KNOW NEED IT, the extra help they require? Keep your hands up! Now you are getting a hint of the hopelessness and shame which makes those failing students throw up their hands at the thought of facing a world for which you have not prepared them. You now get the merest inkling of the despair they feel when left to the mercy of the streets. Keep your hands up high! Now, look around at yourselves. TURN AND LOOK AT YOURSELVES!
Because you are failing to educate them, this is the posture that too many of our students will wind up in. Only they’ll be staring down the barrel of a gun!
… You’ll be dead in a year, son. Hear what I’m saying? You’ll be dead in a year!
