Those Guardian Voices

In my recent memoir, Table Scraps and Other Essays, I write about my youth and the very disruptive event of school integration. In my fifth grade year, my siblings and I were bussed to the nearest white school. In “Pieces of a Tree,” I note how, in many ways, this became devastating to our community, for as a result, many of our teachers had to find work elsewhere, which left a large hole in our community. Here is a sample of the essay:

“Vernon High, with students from first to twelfth grade, boasted certification of all its teachers and graduated one of the highest rates of students who matriculated into the many colleges in and out of state. Many of the teachers lived in what seemed to us kids at the time like far away cities: Baton Rouge and New Orleans. Some carpooled every day; some spent their weeks in the Vernon community and their weekends back in the cities. Many of the teachers bought homes in the Vernon area and became influential, industrious members of our community. They joined our churches and became the deacons and deaconesses who sat on our pews and spoke so loudly and properly of God’s business—there was never a twang or a slurred syllable; all of their words rolled off their tongues with a certain shapeliness. They shopped at the Cavalier Shoppe or the Boston Store, wearing smart and tactful clothes and smelled of perfumes and colognes. They drove the best and latest models of Cadillacs and Buicks. They patted us children on our heads in approval. They softly rebuked us to “Stop running through the halls!” when we were at school, and to “Respect God’s house” when we were in the sanctuary at church. Our parents came to trust these teachers and to rely on them for their clear minds and level heads. And perhaps out of a sense of duty, or perhaps to fill that vacant need, over the course of years, these teachers became the great leaders that they were thought to be. They were indeed the guardians of our society; they were at the heart of a community that built itself around them.” (p. 42)

It is always with a mixed heart that I look back on those days—yes, separate was not always equal, and these new integration laws brought about at least the semblance of equality. At the very least, it forced a conversation and a new way of interacting among the races. Recently, I was back at this new school where I was bussed, where I once mingled and got to know classmates who were not my color, where my basketball coach called us “salt and pepper” and made us mix it up and not sit and talk to just our own kind, where I learned to understand our differences but relied on our similarities. It wasn’t easy at first, but I do believe I am better for those years of learning together. I would graduate from this school and join the U.S. Navy, where I found that I was quite prepared for interacting and getting along with people who were nothing like me. This begins my story of school integration; I will continue this discussion. Please feel free to join me.