Nusrat

 

Nusrat

Nusrat was a student who already knew most of the core curriculum. The stuff that he didn’t know, he would pretend he knew and share anyway. He always had his hand up. When he would answer a question right, he’d look around nodding at everyone as if to beg for their applause at his cranial capacities. The other students mostly got tired of his attitude. Some would probably have rather celebrated his few failures. Around second semester, Nusrat figured out that dominating his classmates with his superior intellect wasn’t a good way to make friends. I began to see less of his hand in the air while Nusrat learned a skill that was brand new to him – being cool.

He wasn’t the only Muslim in his classes, but he was the loudest about it. He was the only one who would ever bring his own ornate rug and ask for a private spot in the classroom to pray towards Mecca. I always obliged, and he never disturbed anyone with it. When we got the Friday before Easter off of school, Nusrat asked why. When I told him it was a Christian holiday, he complained that it wasn’t fair that they don’t cancel school for his holidays. I gave him a fist bump then and told him, “Dude, you’re right. I agree that it’s not fair. Your religion is just as valid as anyone else’s. But maybe we should all just take advantage of an extra day off anyway.” This answer seemed to be enough as he nodded his approval.

Last week, Nusrat did something I found very entertaining. He entered the classroom with the biggest smile on his face, walked up to me, and asked me, “What’s up, CUZ?”

I lost my chill, cracked up, and responded, “What up, G?” I laughed my way out to the hall to monitor the usual hallway chaos, but with some quick reflecting, decided to go back in and revisit that brief encounter with my guy. “Nusrat!” I got his attention, “It’s hilarious to me that you just called me that, but there’s something you need to know. Have you ever heard of the Bloods and the Crips?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of those,” Nusrat likely bluffed.

“Well then you know that they’re both dangerous street gangs.” I had him staring wide-eyed at me. I think he was thrilled to learn about subject matter that was considered taboo in school. I declaimed to him, “The way Crips greet each other is by calling each other ‘Cuz.’ And when Bloods meet, they might say something like, ‘What up, Blood?’ So when you go around calling someone ‘Cuz’ or ‘Blood,’ it might signify to someone that you’re involved with one of these gangs. I don’t think you’re actually in a gang, so I thought you greeting me that way was funny. But you have to be careful who you say that stuff around, or better yet - maybe avoid saying those things at all. Does that make sense?”

Nusrat obliged, “Yes, Mr. Harris.” I sent him to prepare for class.

Luckily, I haven’t seen Nusrat flashing gang signs, C-walking, or repping any colors since our conversation. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have called him a G - or at least I should have explained what that meant too. But there’s one thing I still wonder about: What was Nusrat studying to gain this new vocabulary anyway?