This is both. And all of them were scared. "I'm very scared." This black
kid, he's only six feet five or something like that, you know, built
like a
Page 8 Wahtoosee, scared to death. "I'm scared to
come into this school." "I get sick every morning when I wake up." I
mean, the tragedy is profound! And we're not talking about it! So I
finally said, to hell with this, and I went to Ms. Lewis. I said, "Ms.
Lewis, I think that we need to bring in some literature about the black
experience. Like American Negro poems and American Negro short stories."
"Oh! Now Barbara, I don't want, I don't think we need, we don't need to
do that. That's not state-adopted text, and we don't have any money for
that, and I just don't think we need to do that. We just follow the
curriculum, and I want you to do
Julius Caesar, and I
want you to do poems, and I want you to do Audin," and you know, blah
blah. I said, "Ms. Lewis, if I get the money, and I buy the books, is
that okay?" "Well I don't want to know anything about it, I just don't
want to know anything about it." So I went, hmm. So I left, and I
thought, what does she mean, she doesn't want to know anything about it?
That means I can do it, but just don't tell. So I rally around these
people that I knew and got some money together. I ordered these books,
from Dell Publishing I think it was. I ordered the
Autobiography of Malcolm X, I ordered the
Invisible Man, which was just one of the most profound novels
of the twentieth century. I ordered
American Negro Short
Stories, American Negro Poetry - anyway I ordered these books
and I had them sent to my house so nobody would know, you know? And I
brought them in a bookbag, in one by one, and handed them out to
everybody. I said, "Let's talk about this. Let's talk about why we're
here, what's happened, what does this mean?" It was profound. It was, it
was, lots of crying and lots of people, children daring to say things
about what their experience, you know, they were scared to
Page 9 touch anybody by mistake in a hallway. Or, scared to be
caught sitting next to anybody in the lunchroom, and stuff began to come
out. Finally, I did all kinds of exercises that I had created, stuff
that I had been reading about. Because there was a lot of stuff that
began to come out in literature, not in literature, but in the modern
discourse about how do we deal with this? One of them was this
incredible exercise in Iowa I read about this teacher who had said to
everybody who had blue eyes. Maybe you've heard about this one? You
know, the blue eyed, brown-eyed thing. Well I did that, you know, and
that just really blew everybody's mind totally. Then there was another
one, there was this guy Leonard who was a, I think his name was Leonard.
I read about this huge thing about how we have to somehow teach our
children that we are one. That we are the spirit, the spirit of life,
the spirit that comes through all of us. So I thought, how can I do
that? How can I show them that, you know, that we're all the same? So I
had this idea, I know what I'll do. I've got this great idea. So I
brought in Junior Walker, this is this great guy, Junior Walker, who was
a jazz guy. I had this record player in the room. In those days it was a
record player. I used to play Junior Walker all the time. I'd play
something jazzy for when the kids were coming in to class. To make them
feel a little free, and body movement and stuff like that. They all
loved it man, they just bugged, you know, everyone is jazzing up, you
know? And I said, "Okay, now I got to do a little
Julius
Caesar. Let's do it, let's get on with Caesar." We'd dance a
little bit, you know, with Julius Caesar. Of course I was very young.
Physically I was able to move around you know, and jazz it up with them
myself. I said, "Okay, we're
Page 10 going to do
something; we are going to do something that's really great." They went,
mmmm. I said, "What I want you to do tomorrow is bring a blanket. Just
bring a blanket, don't ask any questions, just come." So they all came.
I said, "Okay, and I want you to put your blanket down in a circle." We
moved all the chairs back. "Okay, I want you to lie down with your feet
pointing towards the center, and lie down on your blanket. Now, hold
hands with the person next to you. I don't want you to say anything. I'm
going to turn off the lights. I'm going to put on a record, and we're
just going to lie here, and we're gonna just think about what it's like
that this energy is going all around this circle. And that we're all the
same." So I did that. And we lay there for forty minutes. Finally I
turned on the light. They got up. We put the room back. The buzzer rang
and they left. One of those kids told me it was the most profound
experience he'd had in his entire high school career. Because it was so,
he got it. He got it. He understood it. So, of course, the next day, the
loudspeaker: "Ms. Lorie, the superintendent would like to see you if
it's possible. If you could run down there after school he would really
appreciate that." I said, "Well, I'd be glad to." So that was the
beginning of my dialogue, which was never a dialogue with the
superintendent, Dr. Cody. But he was a white, Anglo Saxon, Protestant
male, and he was doing the best he could, and he didn't understand
anything. Because he was a victim of public schools in America. He was a
victim of being a white, Anglo Saxon Protestant male, and he wasn't
enlightened. He wasn't anything. He was just doing his job. So here he
had this nutsy teacher who was doing all these creative, wacko things
first of all, and she was big! You know, I was a lot bigger
Page 11 than Cody! So I walked in there, "Ms. Lorie, I'm really,
good to see you, good, have a seat, have a seat." "Dr. Cody it's really
nice to be here. Now what's on your mind?" "Well, you know, I don't
presume to question what you're teaching. I just wanted to know what,
you know; I'm just hearing things from parents that concern me. So I
wanted to know if you could tell me what's going on in your classroom?"
So I tried to explain to him the spiritual life, and how important it
is. Well, come on, "I certainly appreciate you coming down, but I wonder
if you could get back to Julius Caesar?" I said, "Yes, don't you worry,
Dr. Cody, we're going to do Julius Caesar! I promise you." You know that
was it, that was the routine. I would do these way out wacko things, and
then I was constantly being called on either by Ms. Marshbanks in the
principal's office, or Dr. Cody's office. It was sort of like, it was a
drop in the bucket. Because the prejudice in Chapel Hill was just as bad
as it was anywhere in the South. Racism was rampant.
Then, and just as it is now. You know, it's worse now because it's out in
the open. In those days, we were all really polite. Nobody said
anything, at least overtly; I remember there was this guy. I wish I
could remember his name, but I can't remember his name. But he was a
huge activist at the university. I mean, he closed down Duke, I loved
it, man! He just closed it down! Because UNC is racist as it can come,
but you know, next-door Duke is probably a little worse! Anyway, this
guy was really great. He was huge; he was like 6'7" or something,
massive! You know, big powerful black man with an Afro out to here. I
called him and I said, "You know, my kids they don't really understand
all this stuff. I wonder, would you mind coming out and talking to my
class?" "Barbara, I would
Page 12 love to come to your
class! It would be great." So, by that time, it was the second or third
year - they hadn't fired me, yet. But they were close, you know. So I
had this room with one of the slit walls, one of those windows on the
front. I could see the visitor parking lot. So the guy gets out of the
car, and I go, "Oh man, this is it! This is, they're gonna, he's gonna
walk in here and I can see… the place is going to go up in flames!" I
was scared. Part of me was scared to death, because I was doing
something that was so radical. But I was trying so hard for them to see
what the problem was, and to get over their own racism that they'd
inherited from their family. You know, all these kids had come in there
with their bias. They couldn't help it! They were born and raised that
way. If you were born and raised in the south, you were a racist! There
wasn't any getting around it! You didn't know Jews. Jews, who Jews? But
you did know about blacks. That they were the servants, and so forth and
so on. So you get one kid coming in, this white kid who comes here, sits
here. Next to her is the guy whose mother is her cook, her family's
cook. So, this is what we're dealing with. These economic differences as
well as the racial differences. So in comes this guy. He comes in. I was
so glad, I said, "I am so glad to see you." He said, "It's hard for me
to be here today." He just turned around to the class and he said, "This
is hard for me to be here because my brothers were killed trying to
integrate a bowling alley in South Carolina last night." We hadn't heard
about it. You know, it hadn't been on the news yet. I just wept. I just
broke down and wept. I just thought, my god! What is the matter? What
the hell is the matter with us? That we can't even…a bowling alley, what
the hell is that all about? God, it was just,
Page 13
every day there was some huge horrible thing that was happening. And we
were trying, those of us who were teaching were trying to make some kind
of sense out of what…and there wasn't any sense. There wasn't any sense.
It was just one ignored day after the other. Pain, pain, pain, pain,
pain, pain. And no solution. We didn't have any leadership from
Washington. Forget that bullshit! We didn't have any leadership from our
superintendent. We didn't have any leadership from our principal who was
just trying to hold the school together. And of course, these black kids
were getting—
[interruption] What was
happening was that inside of me, I was just cracking up. The pain of it
all was so horrendous. I would go home and I would just weep. I would
just weep because I could see that the smoldering, the fire was
smoldering. That if we didn't address the issues, if we didn't change
the name of the school, and change the name of… if we didn't have black
cheerleaders, and if we didn't have school songs that represented the
black kids, and if we didn't have all those things that are related to
permanent parts of somebody's identity as a high school student. Which
is such an impressionable age, which is so precious and so painful. As a
teenager, this is just the worse time to go through, I think. If we
didn't do something about that we were losing it. And of course, we did
lose it. We just, I finally couldn't stand it. I knew that I was going
to be fired. Because the third year, I got a letter from the
superintendent saying that my principal wanted to meet with me before
school started. I thought, oh god, this is it. This has got to be it.
So, I went out there and he said, "Ms. Lorie, you're so good with
Page 14 them, that we're going to make you into, we've
made you into a reading teacher." I said, "Well, Ms Marshbanks, I've
never had a course in reading. I don't know a damn thing about reading,
teaching reading." She said, "Oh I'm sure you'll do fine. You'll do just
fine. And we got a new space for you, and let me show you." So she
marches me away from the English wing, straight down the main hall to
where the band room is, and on the side of the band room there's a great
big broom closet. Which has been cleaned out, and there are three desks
there with an overhead light. That's where I'm going to be teaching
reading to two students an hour, and every six weeks I'll get two
students for five classes. Then every six weeks it will be changed. I'll
get new students. So I knew I had lost. Because, there wasn't any
point…my gift and my skills were negated by this diminution of me as a
teacher, as a professional. So it wasn't, it just didn't, I knew that I
couldn't work under those circumstances. So I went home and wrote a
letter of resignation. Before that happened, it was in the spring of the
preceding year before that happened, the end of the second school year,
or the third school year. It was the end of the third school year, and I
was down in the office for some damn thing, I don't even know what the
hell it was. I don't even remember. I've done this, I've done that. I
said, "You know something, Dr. Cody, I want to tell you something. That
this place is going to blow wide open if we don't change our ways!
Things are really bad out there. And if we don't, I don't know what's
going to happen. I just want to tell you that." And of course, he wasn't
listening, he didn't care. He cared, but he didn't care enough to do
anything. That last year, there was a terrible incident. Some white boys
had brought a gun to the
Page 15 school. So the black kids
came and told me, they said, "Ms. Lorie," and I said, "Okay." "And
they're coming down by your room." I said, "Okay." So what happened was
these white boys were coming down. The black kids were coming up this
way. So I went out of my room, and I stood there. I waited until they
got to me. I said, "All right, let me tell you something. I'm not
looking at what you're holding. I don't know where you think you're
going, or what you think you're going to do, but I do know that if you
do anything, you're going to get twenty years in prison. Just for being
on school property with whatever you're holding, which I'm not even
looking at, okay? You're going to get twenty years if they pick you up.
So my advice to you guys is to turn around, and go back the way you came
as fast as you can, and get off of school property." So they stood there
and they looked at me. They finally turned around, and walked very
quickly down the hallway and left. I turned around and said to the black
boys, I said, "now let this be a lesson to you. We don't need violence
in this school. That's not the answer to this problem. Now you guys go
back to where you belong, go back to your classes, and forget that you
ever saw anything today." I turned around and they left.