Mennonite Central Committee News Service
(3)
April 2, 1971
VERDICT--NOT GUILTY
by Charlene Gerber, UTC, Atlanta
I can't forget. It was January 14,
1971--the day before a school holiday would be declared in honor
of Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday. We were instructed to observe
this event with "appropriate exercises" in our classrooms
in Atlanta, Ga., where I serve with Mennonite Central Committee
in the Urban Teachers Corps (UTC) program.
So late afternoon found the children
and me having our own memorial service. We were reading a biography
of King's life. The children interrupt with questions and opinions.
"Why couldn't black people sit
where they wanted on a bus, or eat in a place where they chose?"
"It's not fair!"
"Those white laws are rotten!"
Some children were pounding on their
desks; many faces had clouded up. There were shouts from all
over the room.
What shall I say, a white, to excuse
the wrongs done in the past to an entire race? I search for words
to explain to the children. I am speechless for a moment and
it grows quiet and all eyes turn to me. I can only mumble that
some people have very much hate in their hearts. Someone says,
"I think those people should be put in jail."
"I stand, one white, before
29 inquiring black faces, feeling the guilt of every hateful
deed ever done by any white against a black. To be white is to
be guilty. Never before had my children looked at me as a white
teacher.
A dull hush fell over the classroom.
Some of the children sat with chin in hands, staring into space.
Genell and Allyson begged to sing, "We Shall Overcome."
They came forward to lead it.
"We shall overcome .... "
"Hand and hand together ...."
"God is on our side ...."
"We will walk in peace ...."
Jerome and Willie by now are clapping.
Colin is tom-tomming on his desk. Genell and Allyson are swaying
up front while Carleen, Yolanda and Anitra, in a circle with
hands clasped and crossed, are singing,
"Black and white together ...."
And it tears me up till it's not
possible to hold tears back. I walk toward my desk, half sobbing.
The song ends. I finally turn to face the class, trying to explain
what I feel--my despair at what their people have had to face,
my hope that what they sang, "Black and white together,"
will become reality. Half the class is crying with me. The other
children are busy fanning, wiping foreheads and handing out Kleenex.
Suddenly Sharon rushes up to me, puts her arms around me and
says, "But you're not one of them, you're one of us!"
I am acquitted of my guilt! But should I have been?
Allyson now begs to sing "A-A-Amen"
and says, "You won't crack up during this one, will you?"
Shaking my head and smiling through my tears, I help them begin.
And then we go on to:
"This train bound for freedom ...."
"No more weeping and a-wailing ...."
"Children git on a-board...."
A-A-Amen!
Our "appropriate exercises" end.
The following Monday, a note is discreetly
dropped on my desk after school.
It reads:
Dear miss Gerber you have been the nicest
Teacher I ever had. Just because your skin is different I still
love you. Will you forgive me for all the wrong things I done?
yes__ or no__
from Jerome
Do you forgive us, Jerome?
yes___ or no____
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