Looking Back in Order to Look Forward

                   Click to order a DVD copy of the film "Under the Kudzu" 

New!!! Click to get the new ebook Rosenwald School Reflections: Documentation & Preservation by Claudia Stack  

Reading Wendell Berry's book The Unsettling of America Culture & Agriculture, I am struck by parallels between the destruction of farming communities that he documents and the breakdown of community in schools.  As recently as fifty years ago, small family farms with diverse crops (both plant and animal) were still normal.  Factory farming has been pushing these small farmers out of operation ever since, although advocates of permaculture and organic farming are trying to turn the tide.

That thousands of family farms have been out-competed by factory farms has also resulted in the fragmentation of farming families who were invested in shepherding land and community.  I am struck by the similarity of language used by big agribusiness and online education companies.  They both promise great gains with less work, "work" being the one case the interaction of people with the land, in the other case the interaction of student with teacher.  But what if we are going in the wrong direction?  What if what is needed in education is not less human interaction, but more?  What if what is needed is really an increase in students' material and social responsibility?

In the rural, segregation-era schools that I have researched, both for blacks and whites (but particularly in Rosenwald schools), students had meaningful roles in the operation of the school.  They gathered wood, kept the fire going, pumped water, swept the floor and the yard.  The older students spent part of each day teaching the younger students.  Strikingly, none of the dozens of Rosenwald school alumni I have interviewed expressed resentment of the work they did.  Instead, it was a point of pride and an expression of community. 

What if, by taking responsibility and work away from students in order to free up more time for academic learning, we actually removed an important way of engaging students in school?  What if students need to feel valued and effective in order to attain an optimal frame of mind for learning?  What if the strict discipline of yesteryear only worked because it was paired with students' sense of meaningful connection to a larger whole? 

What if we could work towards recreating these communal connections to help students feel valued, and to allow them to use their abundant energy in constructive ways?  What if we need to look back to find our way forward?

Connecting with Students by Sharing School History

I am fortunate in that the school where I teach makes time, every Friday afternoon, for topics and activities that don't fit neatly into standardized test subjects.  The principal worked out a schedule in which we start every day a bit earlier than the other middle schools.  This gives us our full required time in classes, while still providing a two hour window on Friday afternoons for enrichment and assembly.

On Friday afternoons teachers and volunteers from the community set up sessions.  The topics and activities range from college preparation to planting raised beds to yoga.  Today, I presented a session on regional African American education history.  My goal was to give our students a context for understanding the importance of our school's namesake, David Clarke Virgo.  Although the school was built nine years after his death, in 1964, it was named for Virgo because he was a key figure in Wilmington and North Carolina education history.  In 1924, under his leadership, the high school grades became available to Wilmington's African Americans students for the first time in 1924.  (View the presentation on DC Virgo)

The students appreciated learning about the history behind our school, but my presentation also sparked an unexpected connection. Later in the day one of my students came up to me, her eyes shining.  "Ms. Stack!  That school, that building in Canetuck--I used to go there all the time with my grandma!" 

She meant the historic Canetuck Rosenwald School that I had shown as an example of one of the many historic African American schools in our region.  Now it's a community center, and I had shared with the students that I go out there monthly for board meetings.  

It clicked for me:  Her last name was the same as that of one of Canetuck's main families.  I hadn't thought much of it because the name is a common one in this area, but many of the students at our school in downtown Wilmington have relatives in Pender County, where the Canetuck school still stands.    

She gave me a hug.  We recognized something new in each other. She is not just a 6th grader, or a child with a learning disability, she is the granddaughter of one of my neighbors.  And I am not just another teacher telling her what to do; she saw that I am someone who cares about appreciating her history.  

I think it's a new day for us.

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Click to order a DVD copy of the film "Under the Kudzu" 

New!!! Click to get the new ebook Rosenwald School Reflections: Documentation & Preservation by Claudia Stack  

Why Rosenwald Schools Still Matter

Click to order a DVD copy of the film "Under the Kudzu" 

New!!! Click to get the new ebook Rosenwald School Reflections: Documentation & Preservation by Claudia Stack  

(Portions of this blog post adapted from an October, 2008 editorial I wrote for the Star News)

Sometimes, people ask me why we should look back to segregation-era schools.  It is true that recalling segregation can inspire shame and sadness; there are real and valid reasons for these reactions.  However, I also try to help people appreciate more dimensions of the historic African American schools in our region.  They should be understood not only in contrast to the white schools, but also as rich environments within themselves.  Ultimately, they embody the striving and dedication of educators and concerned families.  

Most importantly, if we ignore the significance of the many historic African American schools in our region (both Rosenwald Schools and others), it deprives our African American students of their educational heritage, and that is a true travesty.  As a teacher in a predominantly African American school, I want my colleagues and students alike to know that education is something that African Americans have always shaped and owned. 

Most of the Rosenwald schools in Southeastern North Carolina were closed during school consolidation in the 1950s. With consolidation, and eventually integration in the 1960s, African Americans achieved overdue access to more modern facilities. This period also coincided with the abandonment, both literal and figurative, of many of the old school buildings that had been built through such sacrifice by African American communities.

Ethically, legally, and economically, integration was the only possible outcome. However, it also meant that many links to the past were officially severed. Rosenwald schools still matter because they embody an important source of community pride and progress during an oppressive era, the memory of which is scattered but not yet completely lost.

Alumni groups, churches, and families with deep roots in the region keep Rosenwald school memories alive. Yet this chapter of history, so influential locally, slipped from the public eye as most of the Rosenwald buildings fell into disrepair.

Many prominent blacks in our region, including school administrators, judges, politicians and artists, are alumni of Rosenwald schools. Their ability to go on to greater educational attainments and their commitment to service were first nurtured in these historic schools. Rosenwald schools also still matter because they had a direct and lasting influence on our leaders today.

Requiem for a Teacher: Carrie Mae Sharpless Newkirk 1923-2013

The following blog is a summary of remarks I made at the recent 2013 UNCW Rosenwald School conference.  Two of Carrie's children were in attendance and Dr. Roseboro presented them with the Watson College of Education "Teacher's Legacy" award in memory of their mother.  

Click here to see the conference slides w/pictures of Carrie Mae Sharpless Newkirk 

A teacher of teachers passed away recently, my friend Carrie Mae Sharpless Newkirk.  I was honored to know her in the last decade of her life, which in many ways followed the arc of developments in education for African Americans in the South during the 20th century.

Born the daughter of a sharecropping family in Duplin County, NC, Carrie recalled the many lessons from her family and teachers that formed her character.  Some of them were as follows:  Her father taught her that whatever job she took on, she should work hard and do her best, otherwise it was tantamount to stealing.  Her teachers taught her that "your word is your bond."

Carrie loved her school, the seven-teacher Chinquapin Rosenwald School.  It had been enlarged twice with aid from the Rosenwald Fund, the local community, and the school board.  This school also housed another feature of the Rosenwald Fund's progressive approach:  A Rosenwald Fund library, a collection of classic works that was supplied to many schools, both African American and white.  Carrie recalled to me that her reward for finishing her classwork was to steal away into the tiny cloakroom-turned-library, and immerse herself in the books.

When Carrie was a junior in high school, her father passed away, and she thought her dream of attending college was gone with him.  However her school principal, recognizing her talent, introduced her to the president of Kittrell College, founded in 1886 by the AME Church.  Carrie's mother bravely let Carrie go to college, even though it meant less help at home with the farm chores and the younger children.   Carrie worked her way through Kittrell before transferring to Elizabeth City State Teacher's College, which had started as one of North Carolina's "normal" (teacher training) colleges for African American students.

Armed with her new college degree and a passion for teaching, Carrie obtained a position in a small segregated school back in her home county of Duplin.  However, she soon moved to Pender County after her marriage to Lawrence Harry Newkirk in 1947, and taught in Pender County for the rest of her career, which spanned 40 years.

Carrie taught at the historic C.F. Pope School in Burgaw and at the Halfway Branch School in Watha (likely a Rosenwald School) before being moved to the West Pender School, an 'equalization' school built for African Americans in 1958.  She taught some of the first Kindergarten classes in Pender County, first as a summer program, then as a full year when it was added to the curriculum.  Her first full year as a Kindergarten teacher she had 40 students and only a chalkboard as a teaching aid!

Although she participated often in professional development and could have sought advancement,  Carrie stayed on the front lines of education, an elementary school teacher for her entire career.   Due to her excellence and to the fact that she gave unceasingly to her church and to her (integrated) community, Carrie was chosen by the Board of Education in Pender to be one of the first of three teachers to integrate an all white school in 1966.

In many ways, Carrie's career mirrored the historical development of African American education in the South.  The daughter of sharecroppers who longed for a new book of her own, which she did not get until 3rd grade, the psychic space that Carrie traveled was much further than the bus ride (her first), which took her from the Rosenwald School where she began her journey to Kittrell College and beyond.

A teacher to the end, Carrie often said to me "children know when you love them."  I was privileged to count her as a friend for the last decade of her life, and I am honored that she entrusted me with her stories.  Through the generosity of some members of the Rosenwald family who I met at the Tuskegee conference in June 2012, I obtained the equipment necessary to film and edit my last interviews with Carrie.  This summer will be dedicated to editing, and I plan to have a documentary of her life finished by late fall.


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Click to Order the film "Under the Kudzu," an award-winning documentary that traces the history of two Rosenwald Schools in 

Pender County, NC 

Pender Rosenwald School Events March 23rd

Canetuck Community Senior Center (formerly Canetuck Rosenwald School) built in 1922 

 photo by Claudia Stack

I drove the Rosenwald School Tour route today with Monique Baker, Director of Pender County Tourism (see Pender Tourism Website).  We visited six Rosenwald Schools today!  If you are interested in reserving a seat for the van tour, please call the Historic Wilmington Foundation at (910) 762-2511.  More information and the tentative itinerary is in italics below.

Our route ended with a meeting at Canetuck Community Senior Center (picture above), and a planning meeting about our upcoming fundraiser on Saturday, March 23rd.  It will be great to have Stephanie Deutsch, author of  You Need a Schoolhouse, speak about how Booker T. Washington, Clinton Calloway, and Julius Rosenwald created the Rosenwald School building program.  In addition, we will have a gospel song from the Canetuck Community Male Chorus, as well as a delightful chicken dinner, all for only $10!

 

Pender Rosenwald School Tour: Saturday, March 23rd, 9am-2:30pm (time includes Canetuck event below): Van tour of several Rosenwald School buildings with narration by Claudia Stack, whose award-winning documentary "Under the Kudzu" traced the history of two Pender Rosenwald Schools.  The tentative list (may be subject to change) of Rosenwald School buildings on the tour are: Pender County Training School (Rocky Point), Browntown School (Hampstead), Vista School (Hampstead), Union Chapel School (off 421), Currie School (Currie), and Canetuck School (Canetuck).  The tour ends at the Canetuck Community Senior Center (formerly Canetuck Rosenwald School) for the talk and fundraiser. This event is being organized by Historic Wilmington Foundation, Pender Tourism, the NC State Division of Tourism, and Claudia Stack.  $35 per person, which includes admission to the Canetuck fundraiser.  Any profit made by the tour will benefit the groups who maintain the buildings. Call Historic Wilmington Foundation to register: (910) 762-2511  

 

Canetuck Community Senior Center Fundraiser: 6098 Canetuck Rd., Currie, NC 28435 on Saturday, March 23rd, 1pm-2:30pm:  This is a fundraising event that includes a talk and book signing by Stephanie Deutsch, author of You Need a Schoolhouse , the critically acclaimed book about the Rosenwald School building program.  Ms. Deutsch is also speaking at the UNCW conference.  Also featured is an opening gospel song by the Canetuck Community Male Chorus.  A chicken dinner is included in the admission price of $10.  Proceeds benefit the continued restoration of the Canetuck Community Senior Center.

 

The Dilution of Kids' Experience

A recent commercial shows a boy commandeering his school's PA system to play a song (never mind that, in this era of zero tolerance, he would doubtless be suspended or perhaps even expelled for this prank).  It is not really clear whose voice he plays over the PA.  Is the bland rap about peanut and jelly sandwiches his own song?  A friend's?  A pop star's, improbable as that is?  All we know is that he causes the rap to be played, and his friends are impressed.  We see him looking on from another room, enjoying their reaction.  What interests me is that he is at least twice removed from his own experience:  Once by sharing his recorded voice, and again when he looks on from a distance as the other students react.

Alternatively, if the song he plays is not his own, his experience of authorship is diluted. He is like a frantic college freshman who is copying and pasting from Wikipedia, only the boy in the commercial goes a step further.  He is crowd-sourcing his own school years and social life.

A student who is consuming media or on the internet sits at the point of two prisms connecting.  An infinite amount of possible inputs stream in, and infinite possible creative outputs stream out.  At least, that is what we envision in the best case scenario.  Yet the sheer overwhelming force of that much input diminishes kids' real, stumbling, imperfect experiences.  Few middle school students will command a whole school's attention (to good effect, anyway).  Their experiences will rarely yield the regular wins of computer games, and their images don't compare to the airbrushed perfection of teen pop stars.

Does the flood of information and images discourage young people from engaging in their own lives?  Do young people take time to dwell quietly in thought, come to know boredom as a birthplace for action, and embrace their own experience as full enough?

Looking Back to Step Up My Game Going Forward

Out of the blue, just as he was going to bed the other evening, my nine-year-old son asked "Did they ever find Van Gogh's ear?"

"Ah..." I stumbled, recalling the story of Van Gogh's ear, but not the conclusion "I don't know, honey."

"What??? I thought parents were supposed to know everything.  You need to step up your mom game!"

Now, many things went through my mind at that moment, such as:  Where is the internet when you really need it, and, we should have gone with fear and intimidation as a childrearing philosophy, but we didn't, and now look what has happened... my younger son is smart, but he's also an incredible smartass.

Ultimately I didn't say any of this, but the exchange did amplify my self-doubt.  At work I strain to help 45 special ed students, whose needs stem from a wide range of conditions that include hearing impairments, learning disabilities and paralysis.   Apparently, this was my time for feelings of inadequacy at home as well.  My sons are twelve and nine and now fully plugged into a larger world.  This makes them aware of much this is good and educational, but it also dwarfs (by comparison) their parents' knowledge, even though we both have Master's degrees.

I recall that, when I was young, an argument that broke out at the dinner table would sometimes be resolved by a dusty volume of our encyclopedia set.  The set was out of date, as it had first belonged to my father's second set of children (he married three times).  By the time I could read he was long gone, however, he did leave the reference books, perhaps as a kind of salute to the values that he and my mother did share.  Those values are: Knowledge and education above all else.

At any rate, even then (in the 1970s) it was becoming apparent that there is more that is unknown than known.  Universities had long since ceased building in the cozy "quadrangle" design inspired by Oxford and Cambridge.  In this conception the academic buildings face inward, seemingly confident in the conviction that all that is worthwhile and knowable can be found within their walls.   

To return to the dinner table, however, I am reminded of the reminiscences of a woman I know.  Like so many of my older African American neighbors, she emigrated North to work and then returned to her birthplace in retirement.  When she was a child in the 1930s her father would lead the family in reading the newspaper, and then the children had to recite something they had learned in school.  She was not the only person I interviewed to mention this evening routine.  Before electric lighting, television, and certainly before computers carried a torrent of information into our homes, many families looked to each other for edification and entertainment.  

In my house we do eat dinner together, but being advised to "step up my mom game" made me wonder  whether the level of discourse is all it could be.  Sometimes questions or arguments arise, but now we reference an iPhone instead of a musty encyclopedia.  Admittedly, I was feeling a little low when something else happened:  My older son brought home a Humanities assignment about ancient Greece.  

"We were learning about the Odyssey in class" he told me "and I could answer most of the questions because I remember when you read it to us."

I guess my game is not completely lacking.