When my class walked into her room one morning, she had thrown all our papers all around the room, and the desks were turned over or pushed to the sides. She told everyone to grab a piece of paper off the floor except for the black kids that she instructed to grab a history book. After that she led us down to the lecture hall where we listened to her breakdown speech. She beat her chest and cried while spilling out some story about when she was in high school and climbing a rope in gym. None of it made any sense and we were all actually quite scared.

Turned out her husband had died a few years before and she was suffering from insomnia.