By growing up in the south during the 1950s and 1960s, I experienced both the oppression and degradation of the Jim Crow laws and the hope of the promise of the Civil Rights movement. In Richmond, Virginia, the Capital of the Confederacy, it seemed like the Civil war was won by the South. Even though the Brown vs. Board of Education was decided in 1954, the year I was born, it didn't seem to apply to Richmond. We went to our neighborhood schools. And since the neighborhoods were segregated, so were the schools. 'Separate but equal' was the claim but the schools were just separate.
The first school I attended was Sydney School, a small building with four to six classrooms. I was there for Junior Primary 1 through Junior Primary 4. JP 1 and 2 was Kindergarten with JP 3 and 4, First Grade. I'm not sure why it wasn't just called Kindergarten and First Grade. I suspect it was decided somewhere in an office by someone with too much time on their hands and the authority to make a decision. There was no cafeteria or gym. We ate in our classrooms and played on the playground.
After leaving Sydney I attended Maymont Elementary for Second Grade. It had three long hallways and I remember being sent to the office for an errand and getting lost trying to find my classroom. A kindly lady knelt down and pointed the way back to my classroom. I later found out that she was a custodian, but to me she was a rescuing angel. After one year at Maymont I was transferred to Amelia Street School, the new school across the street for Third through Sixth Grade. We were excited to attend a brand new building. But in the brand new building, some things just didn't make sense.
Syndey and Maymont were older schools and since I was younger when I attended, I had gotten used to the old scratched up and written on desks and chairs. I had gotten used to the textbooks that were so old that we had to cover them with brown paper bags to keep them from falling apart. And I was used to the new blue name labels pasted inside the front covers of the books. Our teachers would assign our textbooks by writing in our names and the school year or date on the labels. But under the blue labels was a list of names and dates going back several years. In a brand new school, I expected brand new desks and textbooks. But that was often not the case, many of the desks and books were still old and worn out. I remember once getting excited that we would get new Social Studies textbooks. But was disappointed that four students had to share each book, so we weren't able to take them home.
While attending Randolph Junior High School, the city decided to build the Downtown Expressway, making it easier and faster for the predominately white population living in the Far West End to get to the office buildings downtown. (Most people just call it the West End now, but l consider where I lived on South Meadow Street, the West End.) This major highway cut through much of the West End and Jackson Ward, two predominately Black, middle income neighborhoods. Even after many community meetings the Expressway cut a wide swath through my neighborhood, even leaving its scar in Byrd Park. As the homes were taken, many people had to take what the city offered an move to other parts of the city. Many of us believed that this was an intentional effort to disrupt stable, Black neighborhoods while making it easier for the white folks.
It was not until I was in Maggie Walker High School, one of the two high schools in the city for Black students that schools were integrated through forced busing in 1970, sixteen years after the Brown decision. The battle was heated on both sides. The whites didn't want us in their schools and neighborhoods and we didn't want to be sent across town and leave our friends and communities. Businesses began posting signs with little red schoolhouses on them to signify their opposition to busing. Many of us were opposed as well but those signs on the white businesses read like a Confederate flag to many of us. And my parents stopped patronizing many of them and instructed us to do the same. I never went in the old Pleasant's Hardware on Lombardy and Broad and only started back when one came to my neighborhood.
Before integration, I had all black teachers. They were no nonsense professionals who dressed up to impart their knowledge. The women wore dresses, jewelry, stockings and sometimes heels. Most of them looked like they were going to church, except they weren't wearing hats. The men wore suits or dress pants and jackets with ties. Even if a teacher removed his coat in class, his tie remained. This was when there was no teaching to the test. We were given an education. Their discipline was a combination of parenting and preaching. They were firm, but fair and they always expected the best from us. When we delivered less than the best, it was like we were not just letting ourselves down, but our parents, our communities, and our race. That responsibility pushed so many of my generation to excellence. With our Black teachers we were expected and prepared to succeed. We had to be better than the white students because we knew that if we weren't, we didn't have a chance to make it in the world. They pushed us. And I am so glad that they did!
The first school I attended was Sydney School, a small building with four to six classrooms. I was there for Junior Primary 1 through Junior Primary 4. JP 1 and 2 was Kindergarten with JP 3 and 4, First Grade. I'm not sure why it wasn't just called Kindergarten and First Grade. I suspect it was decided somewhere in an office by someone with too much time on their hands and the authority to make a decision. There was no cafeteria or gym. We ate in our classrooms and played on the playground.
After leaving Sydney I attended Maymont Elementary for Second Grade. It had three long hallways and I remember being sent to the office for an errand and getting lost trying to find my classroom. A kindly lady knelt down and pointed the way back to my classroom. I later found out that she was a custodian, but to me she was a rescuing angel. After one year at Maymont I was transferred to Amelia Street School, the new school across the street for Third through Sixth Grade. We were excited to attend a brand new building. But in the brand new building, some things just didn't make sense.
Syndey and Maymont were older schools and since I was younger when I attended, I had gotten used to the old scratched up and written on desks and chairs. I had gotten used to the textbooks that were so old that we had to cover them with brown paper bags to keep them from falling apart. And I was used to the new blue name labels pasted inside the front covers of the books. Our teachers would assign our textbooks by writing in our names and the school year or date on the labels. But under the blue labels was a list of names and dates going back several years. In a brand new school, I expected brand new desks and textbooks. But that was often not the case, many of the desks and books were still old and worn out. I remember once getting excited that we would get new Social Studies textbooks. But was disappointed that four students had to share each book, so we weren't able to take them home.
While attending Randolph Junior High School, the city decided to build the Downtown Expressway, making it easier and faster for the predominately white population living in the Far West End to get to the office buildings downtown. (Most people just call it the West End now, but l consider where I lived on South Meadow Street, the West End.) This major highway cut through much of the West End and Jackson Ward, two predominately Black, middle income neighborhoods. Even after many community meetings the Expressway cut a wide swath through my neighborhood, even leaving its scar in Byrd Park. As the homes were taken, many people had to take what the city offered an move to other parts of the city. Many of us believed that this was an intentional effort to disrupt stable, Black neighborhoods while making it easier for the white folks.
It was not until I was in Maggie Walker High School, one of the two high schools in the city for Black students that schools were integrated through forced busing in 1970, sixteen years after the Brown decision. The battle was heated on both sides. The whites didn't want us in their schools and neighborhoods and we didn't want to be sent across town and leave our friends and communities. Businesses began posting signs with little red schoolhouses on them to signify their opposition to busing. Many of us were opposed as well but those signs on the white businesses read like a Confederate flag to many of us. And my parents stopped patronizing many of them and instructed us to do the same. I never went in the old Pleasant's Hardware on Lombardy and Broad and only started back when one came to my neighborhood.
Before integration, I had all black teachers. They were no nonsense professionals who dressed up to impart their knowledge. The women wore dresses, jewelry, stockings and sometimes heels. Most of them looked like they were going to church, except they weren't wearing hats. The men wore suits or dress pants and jackets with ties. Even if a teacher removed his coat in class, his tie remained. This was when there was no teaching to the test. We were given an education. Their discipline was a combination of parenting and preaching. They were firm, but fair and they always expected the best from us. When we delivered less than the best, it was like we were not just letting ourselves down, but our parents, our communities, and our race. That responsibility pushed so many of my generation to excellence. With our Black teachers we were expected and prepared to succeed. We had to be better than the white students because we knew that if we weren't, we didn't have a chance to make it in the world. They pushed us. And I am so glad that they did!