Chapter Three
Mr. Brown
walked through the door of my classroom shortly before the nine o’clock bell
sounded. The room fell dead
silent. It was so quiet I could hear
myself breathe, anxious with the anticipation of hearing his speech, even if it
was the same old speech he had given to every other eighth grade class. He stood in front of the
classroom by Mrs. Brown’s desk. She was
his wife. They spoke in low whispers. When their chatter ended, Mr. Brown cleared
his throat and faced the class.
“Good morning boys and
girls,” he began in his deep speaking voice.
“Good morning,” we sang
back like a church choir.
“In 1954, Mr. Brown continued,
“when you were just babies in your mother’s arms,” (the class snickered at
that) “thanks to a great Negro man and brilliant attorney named Thurgood
Marshall, the Supreme Court, the highest Court of this land, handed down a
decision that would change all of our lives.
That decision made it unlawful,” he repeated the word 'unlawful' several
times, “for the United States of
America, our country, to have segregated schools. Separate and unequal no more.”
He paused. “Now some of you may
have already heard from your parents, maybe on television, or the radio about
some changes that are taking place.
Change is a good thing,” Mr. Brown said, nodding his approval, “and
although it has been slow making its rounds, integration has finally come to
Carroll County, North Carolina.” His
eyes slowly scanned the room of anxious students as if he was taking a careful
count. “Now, your teacher,” he nodded towards Mrs. Brown, “has what is
called a ‘Selection Sheet’ that she will pass out to each one of you. On this form you must check the high school
you want to attend. Your choices, of
course, are Snowden High or Kramer High.
We hope that by handling it this way we will voluntarily get the number
of students we need over to Kramer High.”
A hushed, noisy buzz poured
from the students. Nora, who sat right
across from me, leaned in close. “What
does he mean by it’s our choice?”
“It’s your choice.” I shrugged.
“Just mark the box for Snowden High.”
“I know this is new and
different,” Mr. Brown said, “so feel free to ask your teacher, Mrs. Brown, any
questions you might have. I have
nothing but the utmost faith that you can succeed anywhere. And I want you to always remember this,” Mr.
Brown pounded his fist in his hand in rhythm as he spoke, “change is a good
thing,” he said, and quickly left the room.
Not until Mrs. Brown placed
the ‘Selection Sheet’ on my desk did it hit me that my eyes were still glued to
the closed door waiting for Mr. Brown to come back and give the speech he was
suppose to make. I stared down at a
piece of paper that asked me to chose whether I wanted to begin the most
important day of my life attending the all-Negro Snowden High, or the all-white
Kramer High — a decision, in my opinion, that didn’t require much use of a
brain. I positioned my pencil over the
box for Snowden High.
“We want you to select
Kramer High,” Mrs. Brown said in a soft whisper, nearly startling me out of my
chair. Her mouth was so close to my ear
I felt the warmth of her breath.
“Mr. Brown said it was a
volunteer thing,” I whispered back.
“I know what Mr. Brown said,
but we’ve got to get a certain number of our Negro students over to the
all-white school.”
“Maybe you can git enough
without me.”
“But we have to make
sure. It’s the law now.”
I could feel Mrs. Brown staring,
peering around at me. I refused to look
at her. I kept my eyes fixed on my
pencil hovering over the box for Snowden High.
Mrs. Brown leaned in close again. “Lori, Mr. Brown and I have
talked at length about you and we both agree.
You’re smart. Quick. The students we send to the all-white school have to be strong enough to handle the kind of challenges
they’re sure to face, and you’re one who can do just that.
"But I wanna go to high
school with my friends.”
“Lori, you’ve been chosen to represent the Negro
race. Now even if you don’t check that
box you will be assigned to Kramer High.”