As a former hall monitor who only had to deliver emergency messages via folded pieces of paper from the main office to the teacher in the retard class, I can tell you, it was tough. You would knock three times and open the door. My golden sash would identify me instantly as a verified hall monitor thus putting Mrs.Clark at ease. The room was filled with drooling niggers. Young, drooling niggers. Their eyes seemed to wander and never quite met your astonished gaze. It was a mostly White school, so they were subdued. They knew if they acted up, the hall monitor would be on them like white on rice. Some were jerking around in the back of the class like they were dancing to unheard music. Others were busy with activities like pulling paint chips off the windowsill to eat. One time I read the folded piece of paper before handing it off to Mrs.Clark and all it said was, "Hang in there, Karen. Remember, diversity is our strength."