Tete ka asom ene Kakyere.Footnote 1
Growing up in Rock Hill, South Carolina, in the 1970s, I attended Liberty Hill Missionary Baptist Church in Catawba, South Carolina, where I often heard stories of local teachers’ involvement in the civil rights movement. I knew many of these teachers personally through our interactions in the community. I was especially inspired by the story of an event that occurred in January 1961, when students at the local Friendship Junior College held a sit-in at McCrory's Five & Dime to protest Rock Hill's segregated lunch counters and other businesses. After being refused service, the students were arrested, and instead of posting bail, they chose to serve thirty days in the York County jail.Footnote 2
The “jail, no bail campaign,” as it was called, was legendary in my youth and marked an important moment in the civil rights movement. One of the students who served time in jail was William “Dub” Massey, a legendary teacher and community leader in Rock Hill. Massey later became a sixth-grade teacher at Jefferson Elementary School and a school counselor in York, South Carolina. His work as an educator and community activist, along with the work of many other educators in my hometown, inspired me to become a middle and high school social studies and history teacher, a professor in a school of education, and a historian of education.Footnote 3
For decades, my interest in these teachers led me to contemplate the following questions: What is activism? Did teachers engage in activism through their teaching during the civil rights and post–civil rights eras? If so, how and why did they practice activism? If not, why not?
These questions have been foundational over the past four years in my work as the principal investigator of a large oral history project Teachers in the Movement. The project's goal is to collect five hundred videotaped interviews of teachers who taught between 1950 and 1980. I am also collecting teaching materials, memorabilia, and other documents and resources these teachers used during their careers.Footnote 4 At the intersection of oral and intellectual history, the project illuminates how many K-12 educators and college and university professors engaged in forms of activism through pedagogical approaches that vigorously promoted ideas and ideals of freedom, democracy, and liberation. Collecting oral histories from these teachers has given me a glimpse into their classrooms to discern exactly how they were teaching and promoting activism.
Over time, my study has evolved to incorporate the following questions: 1) Who were the elementary, secondary, and postsecondary teachers in the movement in Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia?Footnote 5 2) What, how, and why did these teachers teach? 3) How did notions of freedom manifest themselves in these teachers’ pedagogies? 4) Who and what influenced the teachers’ pedagogies and participation in the movement? 5) How can recovering these teachers’ stories inform and impact education today?
In the context of this study, I define activism as expressed support for the civil rights movement and the deliberate championing of freedom and equality in teaching and/or community work. I argue that the notion of freedom or liberation lay at the center of many of the teachers’ pedagogies. For African Americans, education has historically been viewed as a means of obtaining freedom. Historian Earl Thorpe states that “the central theme of Negro thought has been the quest for freedom and equality.”Footnote 6 Teachers during the civil rights era and larger black freedom struggle, I contend, were essential disseminators of the idea of freedom through both their work in the community and their pedagogy in the classroom. In this article, I share teachers’ voices and views about their roles and pedagogy, inviting readers into their classrooms to discover how ideas of freedom permeated their teaching during the most consequential social movement in the United States in the twentieth century.Footnote 7
Toward a Historiography of Teacher Activism
Some civil rights scholars and activists, and even organizations such as the NAACP, have characterized teachers, particularly black teachers, as unsupportive of the civil rights movement and opposed to school desegregation. They argue that teachers were more interested in maintaining their positions in segregated schools and their status in the community than in advancing civil rights. Historian Adam Fairclough has attempted to problematize the role of black teachers during the Jim Crow period. While acknowledging the contributions of some black teachers, Fairclough asserts that African American teachers generally were unable to advocate for equal rights, instead compromising their principles to preserve their positions and gain favor with white community and educational leaders.Footnote 8
Characterizing black teachers as accommodationists in the early years of Jim Crow, Fairclough concludes, “Conforming to the humiliating etiquette of white supremacy, black educators resorted to flattery and guile in dealing with whites who possessed money and power.”Footnote 9 In the 1960s, Fairclough speculates, the civil rights movement would have welcomed greater activism by black educators. However, he argues, although black teachers on the whole supported civil rights, many did not support full-blown civil rights activism that might result in integration that would jeopardize their jobs.Footnote 10
Vanessa Siddle Walker has characterized black teachers of this era as “hidden provocateurs” who often advocated for equality in the education of black students and a culturally relevant education for black children in desegregated schools.Footnote 11 Likewise, Tondra Loder-Jackson argues that while historically the teaching profession has often upheld the status quo, black teachers nevertheless engaged in “intellectual activism,” teaching ideals of “freedom, justice, and democracy, which have stirred younger generations of students to action.”Footnote 12 Martin Luther King Jr. himself advocated for teachers to become activists. At a 1960 meeting of the Virginia Teachers Association in Richmond, King called upon teachers to play an active role in the civil rights struggle and prepare their students for the “new age” of equality.Footnote 13
The idea that black teachers resisted activism during the civil rights era contradicts the stories I heard growing up in Rock Hill. In addition to Massey, I attended church with Cynthia Plair Roddey, the first black student to enroll at Winthrop College in 1964 and a well-known teacher both in Rock Hill and Charlotte, North Carolina. I also learned about Sam Foster, a black educator who became principal of the then new Northwestern High School in 1971, and I personally knew Brother David Boone, a white minister who served at St. Mary's Catholic Church and was a well-known civil rights activist throughout the 1960s. These were only a few of the many educators who embodied the notion of teachers as activists.Footnote 14
Several historians have written about the active role of teachers in the struggle for black freedom. James D. Anderson, Ronald Butchart, Linda Perkins, V. P. Franklin, Michael Fultz, Christopher Span, and others have documented the role of black teachers in the black freedom struggle in the nineteenth century. For the most part, their work collectively has explored the important role black teachers played in the education of black people.Footnote 15
Vanessa Siddle Walker, Michelle Foster, Jerome E. Morris, Hilton Kelly, Tondra Loder-Jackson, Scott Baker, Sonya Ramsey, Karen Johnson, Adah Ward Randolph, Jon Hale, Zoë Burkholder, Ishamail Conway, Candace Cunningham, and Alexander Hyres, among others, have explored the role of teachers in the black freedom struggle in the twentieth century. Teachers in the Movement extends the work of these historians by going inside the classroom to hear from the teachers themselves about what they taught, how they taught, and what influenced their teaching.Footnote 16 In this vein, Larry Cuban's How Teachers Taught: Constancy and Change in American Classrooms, 1890–1990 has also been helpful. While not focused on teachers in the civil rights movement, the book examines teachers’ lives and work in the United States over a hundred-year period. Relying on school reports, surveys, teachers’ reports, and students’ recollections, Cuban reveals a diversity of teaching methods and demonstrates how these methods were influenced by the politics and social milieu of their time.Footnote 17
Methodology
As a historian who works closely with education researchers and social scientists, I am often asked, “What are your methods?” This question is not new to historians. My methodology for studying teachers is very much grounded in my experiences conversing with teachers and elders in my community.Footnote 18
One of my first memories of grasping the power of oral tradition dates back to 1977, when I watched the television miniseries Roots. In the final episode, Alex Haley, played by James Earl Jones, travels to Gambia, West Africa, to search for evidence of his ancestor Kunta Kinte, who had been kidnapped and brought to America two centuries earlier. During his youth in Tennessee, Haley often heard the story of Kunta Kinte being kidnapped when he went in search of wood to make a drum. To trace the story of the “old African,” as Haley calls Kunta Kinte, Haley listened to the local griot recite the history of the tribe.Footnote 19 The griot tells the story of a young man named Kinte who was kidnapped by slavers when he went to obtain wood for a drum. In amazement, Haley declared, “You old African! I found you! Kunta Kinte! I found you!” This scene had a powerful impact on my love for the oral tradition as history.Footnote 20
The image of the griot in Roots affected me profoundly. In my work, I view both my interviewees and myself as griots. The teachers I interview impart their memories and histories to me, and I help preserve this history to pass on to future generations. The information they share about their lives and teaching cannot be found in documents, and thus I am also a griot in conveying their narratives to future generations. I have learned the importance of listening to these teachers and allowing them and their stories to speak for themselves. In the context of these stories, teachers often discuss other teachers they have taught with and suggest I contact these colleagues to hear more and to fill in the holes of their stories.Footnote 21
My research has taken me to large cities like Charlotte and Raleigh, North Carolina; Columbia and Charleston, South Carolina; Atlanta, Georgia; and Richmond, Virginia. It has also taken me to small towns and hamlets like Chester, South Carolina; Elizabeth City, North Carolina; Danville, Staunton, Waynesboro, Lynchburg, and Victoria, Virginia, among many other places throughout the South. When arriving in these towns, I often think of W. E. B. Du Bois's experiences as a student at Fisk University and as a teacher in a rural black Tennessee school in the late 1880s, a mere twenty years removed from slavery. Recounting this period of his life in The Souls of Black Folk, Du Bois wrote these beautiful words:
Once upon a time I taught school in the hills of Tennessee, where the broad dark vale of the Mississippi begins to roll and crumple to greet the Alleghanies. I was a Fisk student then, and all Fisk men thought that Tennessee—beyond the Veil—was theirs alone.Footnote 22
As I travel to small towns and large cities throughout the South, I imagine Du Bois's experience teaching in the “hills of Tennessee.” I also realize how privileged I am to have teachers allow me a glimpse into their lives and the lives of their students. For me, this work is not just scholarly research. It is spiritual work that resonates with my soul.
Johnnie Fullerwinder: Teacher Integration in Virginia
One of the first teachers I interviewed was Johnnie M. Fullerwinder. I first learned of Fullerwinder from Shontell White, a University of Virginia undergraduate from Danville, Virginia. Although White and I were well prepared for the interview, I could not help but be nervous because of the great respect I have for Fullerwinder.
Figure 1. Johnnie Fullerwinder (courtesy of the Teachers in the Movement Project. Photo by Ryan J. Heathcock)
When I entered Fullerwinder's home, I recalled that she was a member of the Alpha Kappa Alpha (AKA) sorority and I vaguely remember seeing evidence of this in her home. I told Fullerwinder that my mother was also an AKA and was also from South Carolina. I mentioned that I was a member of the Omega Psi Phi fraternity—which I knew her husband also belonged to. In the back of my mind, I knew we must know some of the same families, though perhaps from different generations. Engaging Fullerwinder through our shared identity as black Greeks and South Carolina natives offered one approach to helping her see me beyond my researcher identity.Footnote 23
Fullerwinder graduated from Carver High School in Spartanburg, South Carolina, in 1958, then headed to Salisbury, North Carolina, to attend Livingstone College on an academic scholarship. She majored in teaching with a focus on science and graduated in 1962. As in Spartanburg, Jim Crow was ever present in Salisbury. Nevertheless, Fullerwinder found that her Livingstone professors, like her high school teachers, were dedicated to their students’ intellectual enrichment.Footnote 24
After graduating, Fullerwinder returned to Carver High School in Spartanburg, this time as a teacher. As in many black schools in the South, Carver's resources were minimal. With no access to mimeograph machines, teachers wrote lessons on the board in longhand for students to copy. The textbooks, which had been discarded by white schools, were old and outdated, and Fullerwinder remembered having only two microscopes for six classes of students.Footnote 25
Yet despite the challenges presented by this lack of resources, Carver was rich in culture and support. Teachers in all-black schools with few resources nevertheless provided students with a culturally relevant education, intellectual nourishment, and a sense of racial pride. Such intangibles were essential for black students to succeed in the context of Jim Crow society.
In 1966, Fullerwinder left Carver for George Washington High School in Danville, Virginia, in the southern part of the state. As the first African American teacher at predominately white George Washington, Fullerwinder encountered racism daily. She told me she often felt invisible and ignored by her fellow teachers; after her first teachers’ meeting, for example, her colleagues walked off without her, leaving her standing alone.
Despite Fullerwinder's heroic undertaking as the school's first black teacher, her arrival was barely covered by the local paper. The Danville Register merely noted, “George Washington High School chalked up a first during the day. A Negro science teacher was present, marking the first faculty integration during the regular school year in the city's history.”Footnote 26 Fullerwinder's situation resembled that of many black teachers across the country who were quietly integrating white schools, often enduring many challenges to bring about school desegregation.
During her first few weeks at the school, Fullerwinder recalls being mocked by some of her students. On one occasion, students held their noses as she passed their desks, insinuating that she smelled. In the face of such challenges, Fullerwinder made it clear to her students that her goal as their teacher was to help them become better science students. She informed them that, although she was black, race would not be a topic of discussion in their classwork.Footnote 27
The resources available to teachers at George Washington contrasted starkly with those at Carver. At George Washington, Fullerwinder had fifty to sixty microscopes, new textbooks, paper for teachers, and mimeograph machines, and she could order any specimens she needed for class dissections. Fullerwinder's pedagogy emphasized experiential engagement. She utilized hands-on activities and did little lecturing. She took students to the library and on trips to experience science in the field and beyond the classroom.Footnote 28 Word of Fullerwinder's teaching approach spread quickly around the school, and students began to request her as their science teacher in subsequent semesters.Footnote 29 Fullerwinder recalls:
I thought of myself as being somewhat of a pioneer, a trailblazer, someone that would make it easier for others to follow. I felt that if I had not been successful with everyone watching me, that it would have delayed significantly the merging of all the schools together, so I felt I had to do an exceptional job to show, first of all, that black people are capable of being able to teach. That we're knowledgeable. That I could demonstrate good classroom management skills.Footnote 30
Like other teachers of the Jim Crow era, Fullerwinder understood that she must be exemplary to gain respect for her teaching. She noted, “I was not going to be outdone. . . . I would show that black teachers were . . . able to do an effective job of teaching students regardless of whatever color they were.”Footnote 31
Over time, Fullerwinder began to reach out to her fellow teachers. Eventually, she observed, her colleagues began to admire her teaching skills and began to talk with her more frequently. Although she did not see herself as an activist in the traditional sense, Fullerwinder recognized that the commitment she made as George Washington's first black teacher and her efforts to provide her students with the best education possible were, in fact, forms of activism. Her experiential approach of taking students outside the classroom to conduct science in the real world and teaching them to engage each other with respect, regardless of race, might also be viewed as a form of activism.Footnote 32
To be clear, Fullerwinder came to George Washington with confidence in her abilities and felt prepared, even though she had previously taught at a segregated school with fewer resources. In reflecting on her time at Carver and George Washington High Schools, Fullerwinder praised the abilities of teachers and students in both settings and noted that black teachers and students at Carver were just as capable as the teachers and students at George Washington. She stated, “I'd always been led to believe that blacks were intellectually inferior. I found that it was the farthest thing from the truth. There was no difference between the black students and the white students that I had experienced, because I had the opportunity to do both.”Footnote 33
Fullerwinder reported that she did not see herself as an activist in the traditional sense. Engaging in activism was especially difficult for female teachers, she stated, as they were expected to be married and focus solely on teaching. This was especially true for black women teachers.
Nonetheless, Fullerwinder viewed promoting ideals of freedom and civil rights as part of her responsibility as a teacher. She also saw her role as George Washington High School's first black teacher as part of the larger civil rights struggle. At the end of the interview, White asked Fullerwinder what she would want students today to know about the civil rights movement:
I would want them to know that the civil rights struggle was a painful and sometimes deadly movement, but its goal was quite admirable: to make sure that every person had access to the same rights, to eliminate segregation of races. I saw firsthand that the doctrine of separate but equal was just a farce, so until people could actually get together in the same area, they would never have equal access.Footnote 34
Fullerwinder unquestionably played an activist role in Danville that helped bring integration to fruition.
Nancy Samuels: A White Teacher at a Predominately Black School
During the years of segregated schooling, white teachers also taught black students in the South. In 1965, Nancy Samuels graduated from Stafford High School in Fredericksburg, Virginia, and enrolled in Lynchburg College in Lynchburg, Virginia. Lynchburg in the 1960s was a conservative town and home to evangelical minister Jerry Falwell. Despite the conservatism she encountered attending college in a small southern town, Samuels's experiences at Lynchburg College were enlightening. She became engaged in activism by protesting a local paper's refusal to report the deaths of black citizens on the obituary page. She also protested, with fellow students, a white church's refusal to accept black parishioners. Samuels credits her Christian upbringing and her exposure to students from the North with igniting her activism in college. Her college experiences would later have a strong influence on her pedagogy as a classroom teacher.Footnote 35
In 1968, Samuels became a teacher at Brookland Middle School in Henrico County, Virginia. Henrico was a suburban school district with a predominantly white student population. During this period Samuels met her future husband, who was African American. Reflecting on this time, Samuels recalls her bewilderment at her family's concerns about her dating a black man. As a Christian, Samuels embraced the principle of treating all people equally, noting, “I sincerely bought into all of it.” In addition, her father and grandfather were well known in her hometown as fair business people and had taught her not to judge people based on race. She characterized her childhood as “idyllic” and described growing up in a loving family and a church community that emphasized the equality of all people. Despite concerns from her family, the two continued their relationship and eventually married.Footnote 36
After her marriage, Samuels transferred to the Richmond Public Schools, and in 1971 accepted a position at Maggie Walker High School, a predominantly African American school. Maggie Walker was a good fit for Samuels. She recalls readily identifying with the students, whose energy and quick wit matched her own. Samuels taught English and literature, which she used as a tool to engage students on controversial issues regarding race and civil rights, topics that in the early 1970s were still raw in Richmond and throughout the South.Footnote 37
In 1977, shortly after Roots aired on national television, Samuels used the miniseries as a foundation for a discussion of race. Samuels recalled:
The main thing I remember, as far as maybe being tension at Walker when I was there, was when Roots was on TV. That, I don't know, it was on one or two weeks. It was on every night. And I remember I had to come back—we met as a staff and we talked about it, how to handle it. We decided that we would discuss it. We wouldn't let it boil. So by being an English teacher, that was even easier for me, in an English class to do. Of course, it was from a novel, so that was even better. So we discussed it every day. The kids were allowed to speak and say how they felt. They were integrated classes. And the white kids, there was a little trepidation there every morning. But by the time they got through the day and they'd been able to talk about it in classes, I felt that it worked out that it was a very positive thing the way we handled it.Footnote 38
Samuels remembered that her black students came to class upset by the way enslaved blacks were treated in the film. At the same time, her white students did not want to be blamed for the way their ancestors treated blacks. These reactions provided a teachable moment that forced students to discuss the historical legacy of slavery. Roots also helped students to evaluate the civil rights movement. From that point on, Samuels was even more convinced of the power of media and literature as pedagogical tools of activism.Footnote 39
Throughout her career, Samuels drew on excerpts from The Autobiography of Malcolm X, the work of LeRoi Jones (Amiri Baraka), the speeches of Martin Luther King Jr., and the literary works of Toni Morrison. She noted that “my main goal was to impart the joy of learning and that it was an ongoing, lifetime thing.” Samuels noted that it was her goal to empower students by encouraging them to form their own opinions. She provides an example regarding poetry as a pedagogical tool. “Students would say, ‘Well, what do you think, Mrs. Samuels?’ I'd say, ‘It isn't what I think, especially on interpreting poetry. What do you think the poet meant?’” She taught her students that the “beauty of literature” was that all individuals could develop their own interpretations. Samuels believed her pedagogical approach provided a means of teaching what today some call “difficult” history and literature.Footnote 40
Walter Nathaniel Ridley: Higher Education Leadership and Civil Rights
As in K-12, I have found that higher education is also replete with examples of pedagogical and administrative activism. This is vividly illustrated by the story of college professor and administrator Walter Nathaniel Ridley, the University of Virginia's first black graduate. As a student at Howard University (receiving a BA in 1931 and MA in 1933), Ridley was influenced by other prominent race leaders of the twentieth century, including Howard University president Mordecai Johnson, professor Ernest E. Just; historian Carter G. Woodson, and Charles H. Thompson, founder of the Journal of Negro Education.Footnote 41
From 1936 to 1957, Ridley was a professor of psychology at Virginia State College, becoming chair of the department in 1943. Ridley was popular on campus and well known among students and faculty. His colleague, education professor Margaret Dabney, recalled that “he was a counselor for the young people” and he advised youth groups and engaged in civil rights activities. He could be both jovial and professional. She described Ridley as a “larger-than-life man. Very sure of himself and his opinions.” She noted that he was an intellectual who expressed “broad interest in a variety of topics and issues” and could speak knowledgeably on many different subjects.Footnote 42
While at Virginia State, Ridley served as president of the American Teachers Association (ATA), an organization he believed should be engaged in the larger black freedom struggle. On September 26, 1946, he wrote Du Bois a letter proclaiming the ATA's support for the Pan-African Congress. He noted, “The American Teachers Association has great interest in movements designed to bring greater freedom to all people. . . . In the name of the Association, I endorse the petition and I wish to indicate our intentions to support the purpose of the movement.”Footnote 43
However, in 1950, Ridley decided that he wanted to complete his EdD. He had done his doctoral coursework at Ohio State and the University of Minnesota but wanted to complete his doctorate at the University of Virginia (UVA) stating “I don't know any reason why I shouldn't be able to come to the University of Virginia. I said my father paid taxes in the state, I'm a tax paying citizen.” At that time, several southern states prohibited black students from attending in-state schools, instead paying their tuition to attend schools in the North. In Virginia, this practice was codified into law with the 1936 Dovell Act, also known as the Educational Equality Act.Footnote 44
Ridley told Lindley Stiles, the UVA Curry School of Education dean, that he had completed requirements for the doctoral degree at the University of Minnesota and believed he should be allowed to complete his EdD at UVA. Stiles informed Ridley that his request was timely because UVA president Colgate Darden wanted to admit a black student to UVA.Footnote 45
At age 41, Ridley applied and was admitted to the EdD program. Ridley was an ideal candidate to desegregate the university. He was older and would not mingle with the undergraduates, he had an impeccable academic record, and he would not live on grounds, so housing him would not be an issue. Still employed as a professor at Virginia State, Ridley did not move to Charlottesville to attend UVA. Instead he drove the ninety-five miles from Virginia State in Petersburg to UVA, making more than ninety round trips.Footnote 46
While attending UVA, Ridley made an impression on faculty, students, and community members alike. A legendary story relates that a Curry professor asked Ridley to teach statistics because the professor believed Ridley was capable of doing so. Legend also has it that black custodians peered through the classroom window as Ridley taught white students with a white professor looking on. When Ridley left the classroom, the custodians parted and expressed to Ridley the pride they felt for him that day.Footnote 47
Ridley excelled as a student, receiving all As and one B+, and he received his doctorate on June 15, 1953. His dissertation was titled “Prognostic Values of Freshman Tests Used at Virginia State College.” A few days prior to his graduation, Dean Stiles stated that Ridley “has demonstrated to the highest degree the qualities of leadership and of gentlemanliness we expect of University of Virginia students.” President Darden noted that Ridley's “excellent record leads me to believe he will reflect credit upon the University and upon the Commonwealth.”Footnote 48
At UVA, most discussions about Ridley center on his role in desegregating the university. However, his greatest contributions to the civil rights movement as an educator occurred as a professor at Virginia State and during his presidency of Elizabeth City State College (ECSC) in North Carolina from 1958 to 1968. My discussion here will focus on the latter.
Ridley was a charismatic figure and, according to my interviewees, he ran the school like the all-knowing Wizard of Oz. On any given morning, he could be observed walking his German shepherd across the immaculate campus. In my interviews with students, faculty, and staff, I heard a variety of stories about Ridley's activism. ECSC basketball coach Robert Vaughan noted that Ridley never participated in civil rights marches himself, but that behind the scenes he was always pushing the levers for black equality in Elizabeth City and throughout North Carolina. On several occasions, he even asked Coach Vaughan to participate in civil rights activities because, as president of the college, he himself could not openly participate.Footnote 49
Figure 2. Robert Vaughan (right) talks about his, Walter Ridley's and others’ civil rights activism with the author (courtesy of the Teachers in the Movement Project. Photo by Ryan J. Heathcock)
Ridley was perhaps best known for a course he taught each spring for seniors about to graduate. Former student Charles Cherry recalled:
Most memorably, however, was a class that he taught. This is the president teaching a class at the university—sort of unheard of. The name of the class was Contemporary Living. And it was taught on a Tuesday night, if I remember, and all seniors had to attend. And it didn't have a textbook, it wasn't written into the curriculum, and you didn't get credit for it, but you were there on time, ready. And we discussed everything, how do you finance, how to become an efficient leader, how to lead others, and so forth and so on.Footnote 50
The course taught students to apply what they had learned in college to everyday life. Students in Ridley's course were required to be on time for class, dress appropriately, speak proper English, and think quickly on their feet. Ridley saw this course as a way to prepare students to participate in the civil rights movement and overcome the obstacles they would face in the real world. Cherry noted:
I'll be honest with you, I never heard him talk that much about civil rights. But he didn't have to. He was the kind of guy who walked the walk as well as talked the talk; I mean, he would say too that one of the best attributes that you can give to the civil rights movement is be totally prepared. To give back to society, reach back and help someone else who was less fortunate—that's what we were led to believe, that once you came to and got into education, it became your duty. And I used to hear him say that once that happened, there would be less need for civil rights.Footnote 51
Though Ridley did not push his students to participate in civil rights activities, he nevertheless expected them to be involved in the movement.
James E. Wright: Black History as Activism
In 1963, South Carolina native James E. Wright enrolled in South Carolina State College (SCSC), where he majored in history and social studies. While at SCSC, Wright did not participate in civil rights activities and remained on the periphery of activism. He later recalled that he needed to stay out of trouble because his family in Chester would not be able to get him out of jail for engaging in protests. However, he was an astute observer of the movement and soaked up as much as he could as a student.
Several professors at SCSC had a major impact on Wright's future career as an educator. One such teacher was Marguerite Rogers Howie, Wright's main social studies professor. In addition to teaching the social science seminar and overseeing students in teacher education, Howie also taught sociology and anthropology. Wright recalled her influence on him:
It took me a while to understand that she saw a lot of potential in me that I did not see in myself or understand. Along with the other students, she scared the hell out of all of us. She was tough. There were times when she failed entire classes at State. I remember we had to do our lesson plans, and her guiding principle was, when you prepare your lesson plan, prepare your plan as if someone else would teach it.Footnote 52
Wright remembers Howie as a hard but fair instructor. Part of being a good teacher, she told her students, was to be organized and prepared. Howie also taught Wright and his classmates Bloom's taxonomy, which provided teachers with a means of classifying student learning according to hierarchical levels of complexity. For Howie and Wright, being an educator involved more than the practical task of teaching classes; it also entailed a knowledge of psychology, along with history and the social sciences. Howie and other SCSC teachers inspired Wright to teach “blackness and the black experience and African American studies and black studies” to his students.Footnote 53
Figure 3. James E. Wright (left) shares memories with the author (courtesy of the Teachers in the Movement Project. Photo by Ryan J. Heathcock)
After graduating from SCSC and receiving his teaching certificate in 1967, Wright enrolled in a master of education program with the prospective teaching corps program at SCSC, attending graduate school from 1967 to 1968. However, Wright's time in the program did not last long. He was drafted into the army in September 1968, and by 1969 he was in Vietnam, where he served for eighteen months in communications with the 54th Signal Battalion.Footnote 54
After completing his time in Vietnam, Wright was scheduled to go to Germany and Korea. However, he sought early dismissal to pursue his teaching career in South Carolina. After writing to Senator Fritz Hollings and his congressional representative and receiving no support, Wright wrote to Senator Strom Thurmond to request help to return to South Carolina. After two weeks, he received a letter from Thurmond informing him that he was to return to the States, first to the Pentagon and then to Fort Bragg in North Carolina. Wright noted that his reassignment might be attributed to Thurmond's “strong reputation for constituent services.” Such was the complexity of racism in the South. Wright served at Fort Bragg between 1970 and 1971. While there was much racial and generational tension between soldiers, Wright remembers his time in the army as a transformative experience.Footnote 55
Wright began his first teaching job in August 1971 at Eau Claire High School in Columbia, South Carolina. At Eau Claire, debates over the civil rights movement were ubiquitous and anxieties were high. Wright's teaching method was to allow for open discussion on topics raised by the students. However, he also wanted students to be well informed and required them to be abreast of the pressing topics of the day. To facilitate learning about opposing views, Wright required students to argue positions they did not support.Footnote 56
Memorization was also a core component of Wright's teaching philosophy. As a student himself he had been required to memorize “The American's Creed,” “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and the Preamble of the Constitution. In church he memorized Easter and Children's Day speeches. Wright noted that this early memorization laid the foundation for his subsequent learning, and he believed it was important for his students to do the same.Footnote 57
At Eau Claire, Wright taught world history, civics, and US history, and he developed a course on minorities in American history that included lectures and quiz games on African American history. By prominently including African American leaders and other minority icons from history in his curriculum, he embraced his role as a teacher activist, promoting hidden histories and engaging with issues of race and social justice.Footnote 58
Wright used videos, filmstrips, and music to bring African American history to life for his students. He recalled one particular lesson he taught on Malcolm X:
One day in one of my black history classes, Black Experience, Black Studies, we used different names—I was playing either this album by Malcolm X or the Ballot or the Bullets. I had both of them. I was playing it in class, and Paul Stephens was the principal. He was a good guy, real good guy. He thought highly of me. In fact, he thought I should have been doing things that I didn't think so, but he did. He was just going through the building one day and he walked into my classroom, my Black Studies class. At the very time he walked in, Malcolm X was berating white folk. Blond hair, blue eyes—Paul Stephens looked at me and looked at the class. He said, “Well, I guess I don't belong in here.” Of course, the kids cracked up and I did too.Footnote 59
Wright's passion for teaching and his dedication to liberating his students with the knowledge of black history impacted generations of students in Columbia and throughout South Carolina. Although not an activist in the traditional sense, Wright used black history as an activist tool to educate his students.
Conclusion
My exploration of teachers’ pedagogy of activism is guided by the African proverb, “Whenever an elder dies, a library burns down.”Footnote 60 Fifty years after the civil rights movement, the students of that era are now in their sixties and seventies. Their teachers who are still with us are fewer in number, in their eighties, nineties, and in some cases a hundred years or older. In the time period covered by my study, young people and their teachers were in the midst of the most profound social movement of the twentieth century. The ideals of freedom and liberation were integral to the social milieu of the time. These ideals were not disconnected from the pedagogy and learning taking place in schools, but were instead a central part of this education.
The stories presented here, along with many other stories recounting teachers’ lives, pedagogical influences, and classroom approaches, offer brief glimpses into a vital but often overlooked dimension of education and the civil rights movement. Eliciting and documenting these stories not only supports the notion of teachers as activists, but illuminates the influential role teachers can play in contemporary movements for civil rights and social justice. As a historian of education, I am committed to engaging oral history and the history of teachers and students and more openly acknowledging the importance of the past to the present. It is my hope that the narratives provided here will remind current generations of their own vital role as teachers and activists.
