According to Root's own extensive biography he attended a private high school.Hello, I’m Wayne Allyn Root for Personal Liberty. President Barack Obama can’t stop comparing himself, or the son he never had, to Trayvon Martin. And he can
I see the George Zimmerman/Trayvon Martin case very differently. For me, it was never about black or white. It was always about life or death — for Zimmerman. You see, 36 years ago, I was Zimmerman. Thirty-six years ago, I almost died in a life or death struggle eerily similar to Zimmerman’s confrontation. Let me tell you the story.
In 1977, at the age of 15, I attended Mount Vernon High School in Mount Vernon, N.Y., one of the most dangerous and violent urban schools in America. Guns and knives were rampant. Assaults were a daily occurrence. Every walk through the hallway was an opportunity to be beaten or robbed. Lunchtime was an opportunity to have your lunch extorted by someone threatening your life. And worst of all were the bathrooms. All the decent kids at Mount Vernon High School knew we were taking our lives in our hands if we went to the bathroom, so we didn’t. We learned to hold it in all day until we got home — for fear of being robbed or beaten in the filthy, dangerous bathrooms where hoods, gang members and drug dealers hung out.
The school was about 85 percent black. I was white. But being white wasn’t the problem. Being a good kid was the problem. It’s wasn’t black versus white. It was good versus bad. The good black kids were as readily beaten up and intimidated as the good white kids.
Like Zimmerman, I decided I wanted to make a difference — for white and black kids. I was sick of the crime violence, intimidation and fear. I spent the summer lifting weights and taking boxing lessons, bulked up and, upon my return to school, volunteered to become a marshal. That meant I was part of our volunteer school police force. We were unarmed, but carried badges and walkie-talkies. Our job was to police the halls and prevent crime, drug dealing and cutting classes.
Like Zimmerman, we weren’t supposed to engage, only observe and call for help. But, as you might surmise, it doesn’t always work out that way.
In the late spring of 1977, I faced a “George Zimmerman moment.” As I patrolled an empty hallway in my high school, I spotted a gangbanger smoking and listening to loud music when he was supposed to be in class. I confronted and told him,“You’re coming with me.” The kid wheeled around and pulled a gigantic knife. In court it was classified as a machete (with a blade longer than 8.5 inches). He lunged at me, and I grabbed his wrist. We wrestled to the ground, with him on top. A much bigger kid than me, he was soon winning the struggle and was about to stick the machete into my head.
If I had had a gun, I certainly would have used it to save my life. That was the choice Zimmerman faced. What Obama and the race-baiters call murder is self-defense. Those who make the race-baiters happy by not fighting back are… dead. After the fact, they’re called “victims.”
I got lucky. As my life was about to be extinguished, a principal emerged from his office to check on the commotion. Like Zimmerman, I’m sure no one knew which of us was screaming in my life-or-death struggle, but my screams saved my life. The principal shouted:“Hey, you! Drop that knife.” The kid ran. The principal raced to my side. I told him what happened. Together, we chased down my assailant in the school courtyard. I lived to tell this story.
Zimmerman’s critics call him “a police wannabe.” I guess you could say I was a “police wannabe,” too. How rude. You know what that means? Zimmerman and I cared about our community. I cared about my fellow classmates. He cared about his fellow homeowners. We both cared about right and wrong. Interesting interpretation.http://personal liberty.com/2013/07/25/my-geor ge-zimmerman-moment/
Whatever, the man is a professional scumbag.