Just before Thanksgiving I decided to vary the menu in my memoir class with a few selections drawing on the experience of two very different African-Americans: James Baldwin’s Notes from a Native Son, orginally published in 1955, and a few chapters from Nathan McCall’s Makes Me Wanna Holler. The reaction from my 15 white students was informative, to say the least.

A few of them were grateful to be reading something that wasn’t by white people. This would probably be unremarkable in any college class today but seeing how this is Eugene Lang, of which Lang alumni Sean Wilsey complained students use to spend entire classes talking about how unfair it was to observe Columbus Day, I was kind of surprised that there wasn’t a greater reaction of that nature. From what I have seen of the syllabi of other classes there, racial diversity is often the number one creiteria for inclusion and I am remiss in not including more minority writers.

At least one other student volunteered the idea that perhaps race wasn’t that important in America anymore. After all, McCall came from a life of street crime and time in prison to become a reporter at the Washington Post and the name of Barack Obama is being floated as a presidential candidate in ’08 with most of the talk focused on the subject of experience rather than skin color. Maybe it’s just not that difficult being black in the USA today, he seemed to be saying.

That’s when I had one of those great teachable moments you hear about. I told my students that my wife had just received an award from the National Breast Cancer Coalition for her work as a magazine editor in covering the topic of breast cancer. Introducing her at the event was one of the anchors of the CBS Early Show, Rene Syler. Talk at our table turned to Ed Bradley’s passing and his role in breaking barriers for black journalists like Syler. Bradley, I mentioned, used to complain about not being able to get a cab in midtown, despite being familiar to the millions who watched 60 Minutes. A white woman said that living in NYC she tended to forget about racial prejudice. “I never forget about it,” said Syler and then offered two tales for our edification.

She described her experiences trying to return a new Mercedes-Benz in White Plains (nice name!) on the weekend, dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt, and the sort of attitude she received. No one quite said “Drug money,” but you can bet they were thinking it. (When she complained about it to MB’s corporate offices, her name appeared in a blind item on Page Six, making her sound like one of those haughty TV people.) And when she visited a consignment store in Westchester to see about unloading some of the couture she wears once for work and doesn’t need again, the woman looked at her casual attire and said, “Well, first you have to have clothes people would want to buy.”

And you can bet that even on her days off, she looks a lot better than most of us.