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Transcript on deposit at The Southern Historical Collection, The Louis Round Wilson Library
Citation of this interview should be as follows:
“Interview
K-0481, in the Southern Oral History Program Collection #4007,
Southern
Historical Collection, The Wilson Library,
University of North Carolina
at Chapel Hill”
Madge Hopkins, a graduate of West Charlotte High School and the vice principal of the school at the time of the interview, describes her experiences growing up in segregated Charlotte and desegregation at West Charlotte. Hopkins remembers the humiliating environment segregation created, but she describes herself as "traditional"—she was reluctant to join student protests at West Charlotte being instigated by a younger generation of African American students. Her belief, at the time of the interview, that the majority-black West Charlotte was a separate and unequal school indicates her concern that the promises of desegregation might not yet have been realized.
Madge Hopkins, a graduate of West Charlotte High School and the vice principal of the school at the time of the interview, describes her experiences with segregation and school desegregation in Charlotte, North Carolina.
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
It is the seventeenth of October, 2000, and I'm here interviewing Ms. Madge Hopkins who is a vice principal here at West Charlotte and we're going to talk about her own experiences over the years here at West Charlotte High School. Now, you say you graduated from West Charlotte in 1961?
Yes, 1961.
How did you get to West Charlotte High School originally?
I lived in the area. We were assigned schools by areas that you lived in and all schools that were on this side of the square, the west side of the square, the dividing line of the city attended, if they were in Charlotte we attended West Charlotte. On the other side of the square they attended Second Ward. And then those who were on the west side, further out, there was York Road and some other high schools that were in the counties. But I lived in the area for West Charlotte.
Had you always lived in this area when you were growing up?
No, I lived in an area until I was about twelve that is in the rural area
of Mecklenburg County and I attended Woodland Elementary School; it's
now Paul Tucket School. It was a church and school connection from first
through probably I think about sixth or seventh grade it was the
Woodland School; a little four room school with four teachers,
combination classes—at that time we thought it was a
disadvantage but now combination classes I think are good because
sometimes children can advance, you have an advantage, it's non-graded
more or less. But we were in that building until my last year. The Paul
Creek Schools got another building, the white students and the black
students moved up to the old building that eventually became Paul Tucket
Elementary School and then I left there and we moved and I started
attending Northwest Junior High School and I went to Northwest in eighth
and ninth grade and
Why did your family move into town?
Employment and my sister and I generally stayed with my grandfather and our aunt during the week and with our parents during the weekend because my mother worked and it was easier for us to go to school. Then my grandfather got sick and eventually died so we had to live full time with our parents, my mother and my stepfather. But it was easier for us and for supervision because my mother was late coming home and you know, somebody had to be there when you got home from school. I don't think we did latch key back then. Somebody had to meet you when you got home from school.
So you went to this rural school when you were staying with your grandparents and then came into town. I see. Was there any sense that there was a difference in quality between the rural schools and the city schools? Did you have any of that?
More resources, certainly, a lot more resources. You're talking about a
school that had four rooms and four teachers and eight classes, eight
grades, so there were more resources. However, I didn't see a difference
in the quality of instruction. I think instruction was probably, in my
mind, then I thought was better because there were so few of us you had
to be on task, you had to do the work because you know, there was not
another grade; everybody in eighth grade worked or seventh grade or
sixth grade or first grade, whatever. But Northwest was bigger and had
more
Was it a big transition for you to come into town and go to Northwest?
No, it was fun. I had been coming here on weekends and I had friends in
the
What kinds of books did you like to read at that time in your life?
I think I was probably into my horse and adventure stories at that time. Then I went to the adolescent romance stories, the classics, but I loved horse books, adventures, those kinds of things.
Was reading something that was popular in your family? Did your grandparents and parents read a lot?
Well, yes. Particularly my grandfather with whom we spent a lot of time. He read every day and that was something you did. And I remember he listened to the news reports, radio—we didn't have television, this was early '50s, late '50s—but I remember that he listened to Gabriel Heater, names of reporters you just don't hear any more. He listened to the radio and reading was important, it was something you did. So it was an emphasis.
What did he do for a living?
He was a farmer.
A farmer.
He was a farmer. The other thing I remember about him and part of my education was that he taught me about nature, about trees, flowers, plants, those kinds of things.
Was he farming still when you lived with him or had he retired from doing that?
Small farming.
Did you get out and farm too?
No. I don't recall doing any, no, we really didn't farm. I might have helped pick peas or do something like that, pick beans, but it was not something that I had to do. It was an adventure, again, to go out and help him. I always wanted to help him plow but he never would let us. I wanted to walk behind that plow with him.
Now, was this because you were small or was it because you were a girl?
Probably because I was a girl. If I had been a boy he probably would have let me, don't you think?
Yeah, I know sometimes that people are very proud about not letting women do that kind of work.
Hm-hm. But I know he wanted me to read, to count, to think; that was the most important thing.
So you were always encouraged about education.
Hm-hm. The other thing I remember, I tell my children, is that on Sundays
everybody gathered—my uncles had all been in World War II and
you listened to the stories, the stories of the War, how they met up in
certain places in Europe. I listened to my grandfather talking about
politics. I remember being, I don't remember what grade I was in, it
must have been second—politics and history—second or
third grade and he told me that—I knew it was Armistice Day
and the teacher said this is a holiday and nobody knew what it was but I
knew that it was Armistice Day and I had uncles who had been in the War
and that was what it was about. The other thing he talked about was the
Cold War and the Reds, the Reds. They talked about the Reds all the time
and I thought it was this awful thing that was going to happen, the Reds
were going to come and they were going to burn us all up. And he didn't
call them Communists, he called them Reds. Talked about that a lot;
What kind of history did you do?
History of the Wars, what was going on in the Wars, what was going on in the country in terms of civil rights and what was going on in terms of the economics and the struggle for power; the U.S. was developing its power after the War, after the Big War. So I guess I heard a lot of the aftermath of the War. Also, I heard a lot about baseball because they always listened to the World Series and I said to my husband the other night, "Why aren't they playing the World Series?" Because my uncles always came—the ones who lived in New York, there were two of them—they came down to watch the World Series, or listen—eventually it became watch—listen to the World Series with their father.
Really? They would just come down just to do that.
Right, the World Series.
Hm. Very interesting.
Right, that was an event. This was September. You remember events by seasons and I wasn't acutely aware of it, it was just life, it was just the way it was. And as I think back, this is almost November and they're still doing the play offs.
I know, it's not my favorite either. I liked it better when it was more compressed. Let me ask you one question: I'm fascinated when you were talking about the Reds; did you understand what a Red was?
No, I didn't quite understand, I knew they were bad people, in my
grandfather's and my uncles' and my father's eyes, they were bad people.
And I had this image of—see the other thing, you always
listened to Billy Graham too and I had this image that we were all going
to be burned up. I was young enough to believe that in the ground (tape gets "fuzzy" momentarily)
Hm-hm. That's very interesting. To move from that just a little bit to West Charlotte: when can you first recall knowing about West Charlotte High School?
Probably, hm, probably as a child (tape becomes "fuzzy" again, voice fades
out)
Did you have a sense that this aunt thought that West Charlotte was the best school? I mean, you've been talking about in terms of this that that was . . . ?
Oh yeah, yeah. I think I probably came more aware of Johnson C. Smith
University than West Charlotte because I had an aunt, my mother's twin
sister lived on Frazier Avenue and we were living on Mill Road and there
was, and everything was walking and walking through that campus I knew
that this was where I wanted to go to school. I loved the trees; because
my grandfather loved oak trees, water oaks, the big
oaks—because that was another thing we would do, my sister and
I would gather acorns for him, and he would pay us, that was our little
job, gather acorns that he gave to his hogs. And apples and muskegs, and
we gathered them and payment was probably about fifty cents, might have
been a dime because he used to walk up to the—he smoked a pipe
of course—and he'd walk up to the little country store, T.
[unclear]
. . . for just a minute because you made me think of something else. You mentioned that he listened to the news and was very involved in all of that; was he still living, were you still there when the Brown vs. Board of Education decision was made?
Yeah, '54, let's see, I came to Northwest . . . he died in . . . let's see, I came to Northwest in about '56, yes. And you know, I don't remember that discussion; I don't remember and I'm sure that he probably, and when I say he was involved, not in the community. He attended church but he was not an active participant but he was a reader and a listener and he would go the store and that's where the men met. It was still a segregated, of course, very segregated society but he would sit around that little heater or whatever it was there and he might spend an afternoon there just talking with the men in the community about what was going on. And I'm sure he talked about Brown vs. Board of Education but I don't remember.
So were you not aware of that all when you were coming up?
I became aware of school desegregation and the issue when I was at Northwest and Dorothy Counts began integratng the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Schools and we still talked about it and everybody knew about it.
When you say you all talked about it, what did you talk about? What did you all say about it?
What was going on and what was happening to her. You overheard teachers talking. I'm sure—Dorothy had been through Northwest and so we were all aware of that.
Because her parents went to Smith, I believe.
Hm-hm. Yeah. And at one time, and we probably, yeah, we talked about it at church. Her father at one time had been, I don't think he . . . he had been a supplier. I remember seeing her because her father had been a guest minister or supplied minister at my church. () is a Presbyterian Church, same church I still attend and he was a Presbyterian minister and I remember seeing her and her family so I could identify although she wasn't at Northwest.
What were you thinking? Did that seem . . . I guess what were your feelings about that and maybe even related to yourself and this situation, changing situation.
I didn't relate to it in terms of myself, in terms of my attending a school other than Northwest because at that time I was at Northwest. I thought she was brave and not something that I wanted to do, didn't have any desire to do that. I had a sense of segregation because you couldn't go in Cresser's and get a hot dog or drink from the fountain, still couldn't do that, and probably for me the most important thing was I could not sit on the front row at the Carousel Parade. There was always some nice white lady who said, "Put the children up front." And I knew I was in the back and that somebody was in a condescending way allowing me to move up front as a child to see what was going on in the parade.
And you felt that condescension even at that time?
And that entertainment was—pre-Carowinds—was to go to Stoh Park in Bellmont and you could only go on Tuesday nights. That was the night for negroes or black folks.
What did you think about that when you were young? Is that something that you thought about a lot?
I started to as I
When did that happen for you? When did you begin to notice . . . ?
Probably the time I got in a fight with Freddy and I had to hit him back, you know, was told, "You can't hit him back." No. And that was probably eight or nine years old. And the most, and I think probably at one of those Carousel parades when I was about six or seven. Move to the back. Why can't we stand in the front? Why can't I have, go up to that counter and eat in Cresser's like everybody else does? Why can't I do that?
Did you ever have a conversation with your grandfather about that explicitly when you're asking these kinds of questions?
I don't recall one and probably I heard conversations, I know I heard conversations, but by the time I was ten or eleven I was questioning why but early on when I was really enmeshed in it, no, I didn't challenge it, I didn't question.
And then you come to town and you go to Northwest and then you go to West Charlotte, just to move a little bit. Do you remember your first day at West Charlotte? Or do you remember anticipating going to West Charlotte? Was this something that was . . . ?
Oh yes, we anticipated. We graduated from Northwest and we moved on up to West Charlotte and it was exciting. And walking up because, you know, we walked. I lived down near Johnson C. Smith and we walked all the way. We didn't catch the bus, we didn't catch the city bus, we walked all the way up to West Charlotte and you started and people, children, students started as far down as Five Points. There were families down there and you just gathered. People would pick up your stuff at someone's house, pick them up, wait for them and there'd just be this parade walking up to school.
And what was going on as to what was exciting about West Charlotte that was . . . ?
Clubs, events, football, a big library.
Hm-hm. For you.
Advanced subjects, more independence, just the thought of high school.
There's that big step coming from junior high. It's reputation, I knew
it was West Charlotte. The best of the best. It wasn't Second Ward, it
was West Charlotte. It wasn't
Hm-hm. You had that sense that, I guess, this relationship between Second Ward and West Charlotte is very important it seems.
Yeah, because you had that Queen City classic, that game. And I never got
to attend when I was in high school because I was always on punishment.
And that is the truth. My mother still tells that story. It seems I had
a smart mouth and she said something [and] I said,
"Why?" I challenged and I wasn't supposed to
challenge, ILittle
Women and I don't know what Jo was getting ready to do but it was
getting really good and I couldn't put that book down—I was
supposed to go wash dishes and I did not and I saw my mother coming, my
mother used switches, little hickory switches and although I was twelve
or thirteen, it must have been twelve or thirteen, she turned the
corner, I grabbed the hinge, I fell on the street, I chipped my tooth
and I worked that for weeks. Oh, I had to go the dentist, the doctor, I
was laid up for . . . I finished the book, I read whatever I wanted to
read, I didn't have to worry about it, my sister had to wash dishes so
she washed them.
So what did you hear about the Queen City classic from all your friends? They'd be talking about it, that's how you would get a chance to hear about it?
Hm-hm. But somehow I had gotten out of trouble by the time of the winter sock hops that we had in the same cafeteria that's here. Those were fun.
Tell me about those. What were they like?
Oh, I wasn't a dancer, I've never been a dancer but just being there in
the crowd and the boys and girls dancing to the old tunes and doing the
slot, whatever the dances were at that time. And then there was always
someone who was in the circle who could just really dance and the kids
would say, "Now, throw down." And we would watch and
everybody would gather around. It was fun, it was a part of the social
development. And there was always some boy you had a crush on that you
were just praying that he would ask you to dance. It was typical
adolescence, no different than today, but a lot . . . and people would
pair up and couples would walk home in
What was the music? Who was popular when you were . . . ?
James Brown, the Drifters, who were the '60s? "Sixteen Candles", who was that?
I know the song but I don't remember who that was.
But James Brown, oh, Jackie Wilson. I remember Jackie Wilson was at the,
must have been Park Center, Colosseum, and we went, my friend and I.
That was the year—there was a group of us—the year
we left tenth grade going to eleventh grade and I got his autograph on a
napkin and kept it for years. Jackie Wilson, "Lonely
Teardrops".
Was music a very important part of your life or a high school student's life at that point?
Yeah, yeah. One thing I thought about thinking about "Lonely Teardrops", I was forbidden to read those, you know, those romance books, those, what did you call them?
The Harlequin Romances?
No, they were the magazines.
Oh, like True Story?
True Story, True Romance. Oh, and I had a girlfriend
who would always have them and to read them and hide them, read them and
hide them, read them and hide them. Reading was real important. The
first modern novel that probably "opened my eyes"
about the world was Peyton Place. We read it at
Northwest in TV Science class.
In TV Science class?
Yes. Happening also at this time was Sputnik and space travel was
beginning and we were fast forwarding to keep up with the Russians.
Those terrible Reds my
Really?
Really. No hands on, too—Lloyd Seglar was I think the science teacher and he's still living—and nobody taught us how to take notes. We just got in this room, and the test came down from Chapel Hill, it was awful. Fast forward, we're going to learn science real quick. Got to West Charlotte, we did our social studies, world history, U.S. history, came out of Chapel Hill via television.
Really?
Really.
How interesting. I had no idea they would do that.
Oh, it was awful. The social studies was a little better. Chris Collins, he went on to become, and you've probably heard somebody talk about Chris Collins in one of those other interviews—he went on to become a consultant or to work with the state Department of Education. He was a pretty good teacher so he followed up on those TV lessons but world history, U.S. history via television. Awful.
Even back in the '50s, that's very interesting.
Yeah, late '50s. We did it by television. But back to Peyton
Place, a friend of mine, her mother was reading Peyton Place, she stole the book, got the book and read it.
And there was the juicy part, must have been a kiss or sex on the,
something, but everybody had to read that part and it got passed around
but eventually I read Peyton Place. I got the whole
book to read and then those romance books that you'd hide under the
mattress. Your mama couldn't see it, nobody could see it. We couldn't
read those books but we wanted to know. It was like, this is a different
world.
Hm-hm.
But that was a part of high school at West Charlotte. And there was always the girl who was a little more mature than the rest of us and had a real life that we all wanted to know about but—I think they just took my pencil.
Did you have favorite classes or particular classes that were favorites to you?
Yeah, my favorite probably was geometry, biology, the sciences. It wasn't
algebra; I hated algebra, I hated the algebra teacher. He taught the
male students and he didn't teach the female. He was an excellent
teacher probably but I didn't have the aptitude for the math that he
taught. Or how he taught it. He was at the blackboard you know, working
the equation. No checking for understanding, no . . . so I never caught
on. The other two classes this happened. But one thing he did do for all
of us is that he did college prep and he made sure that each one of us
got into a college and Vinton Bell, who was principal here will tell
you, if it had not been for Julian Pyles we would not have gone to
college. He and another one of my classmates, Dr. Bell and another one
of my classmates started the Julian Pyles Math Award that was given for
the first time this year at West Charlotte. But Julian Pyles taught
vocabulary; he taught organizing. Those were the parts of instruction
that Mademoiselle magazine used to do a summer issue and they had
college interns and she went off and she wrote for them, I mean, that's
what I wanted to do, either be a playwright, an actress or I was going
to write short stories. I thought Diane
Did he?
Yeah. I think I was scared of him, I was terrified of him, and that's why
I couldn't learn how to play bridge.
Did you have a sense when you were, you say you really had an expanded world and you were thinking beyond the South and beyond these kinds of things; did you have a sense that these were new opportunities for African-Americans? That this was something that hadn't been able to be done before? Were you thinking in that way at all at that time?
It was instilled in us that anything was possible, that we could do
anything we wanted to. Charles Jones was—the civil rights
movement was beginning so fresh in our minds, and we had come up from
Northwest and Dorothy Counts had tried to desegregated
Charlotte-Mecklenburg schools, or Charlotte schools; it had not worked
but we had a sense we could do whatever we wanted to do. That we could
go beyond what was feared; because, as you know, there were not
opportunities for graduate school for our teachers here in the South and
that they were going North into larger universities, I think it was, was
it Spangler, no it wasn't Spangler, I can't remember his name, the
superintendent who was making that possible. It wasn't Spangler, I can't
think of his name, making it possible for the teachers and the
administration to do that and so we had that sense and that awareness.
Same time going on across the street were the Alexanders and the
bombings were taking place, we were during those times even though,
that's when I think I was, that was
The Wednesday snows?
Hm-hm. I remember that poem, I remember him reading it. So a lot was beginning to happen in the late '50s and '60s. Then as a student teacher in here it was a little different, things were becoming militant.
When did you come back as a student teacher?
'65.
When you say militant was this true in Charlotte and at West Charlotte as well?
Well, I saw a different crowd of student. It started to develop when I
was a senior and the ninth grade class came up, it was added on for
awhile. And out of that class we always described them as, I don't know,
they were displaced but they were the
What was your reaction to that? To this sort of new tone that things were taking?
I admired them and wished I had the courage to do what they doing but we
were still, we were just at the end of the tradition, traditional people
in my class. We were go to college, get your education, get married, get
an avocado refrigerator and stove and a shag rug, you know.
Right, right.
The music, and I'm listening, the music started to change and it became different. You began to see more people experimenting with drugs and I started with college spending my time in New York, seeing a different kind of scene. But I viewed that from the outside and remained traditional, admired those people who could do it but I couldn't. I read their stories but I didn't participate. I saw in Brooklyn the burnings but I didn't participate. I marched on the fringe. Never got arrested, marched on the fringe. We went to Washington and I like my parents and grandparents used to make my children sit there every time it was black history and Martin Luther King's "I had a dream" speech was on, "Sit down." That's me right over there. I'm there.
So you were there.
Yeah. I'm there. But it was on the fringe. Not really an actor. And maybe that's what I regret. There's probably still that militancy in me that needs to come out and I haven't let it explode yet.
And you say you had a sense that that was kind of also your generation, that you were very tempted in that regard, that you were all sort of there watching in.
We wore suits, the ones who came after us put on dashikis. I didn't wear an afro, I might put on an afro wig, might wear one for a week. We weren't quite there.
And did you see when you came back the whole school being more and more militant?
Hm-hm.
Then the whooe, it was just everybody in there had been more transformed. That's very interesting.
It was time for it. We were educated and lived in a segregated world and the world was changing for those who were coming a few years after us.
Well, and then, of course, the Judge McMillian and the Swan case, the [Swan] case is filed and goes through the courts and then finally Charlotte schools actually are going to become desegregated.
And I'm teaching then.
And where were you teaching?
Second Ward.
You were at Second Ward at that point. Oh, so you were at Second Ward when they closed it.
Hm-hm. Worked the last two years.
What was it liked to have been a West Charlotte student and go into Second Ward to teach?
Oh, I loved the kids and I worked with a group and it was Ford Foundation
and Davidson College sponsored Project Opportunity. It was the
forerunner to Love of Learning at Davidson College. Mike Malloy, who was
a basketball star at Davidson, was a counselor and Brenda Tabia was a
counselor. She was a student at Howard University and very militant and
I was working with Alene McCorkel and Mr. Levi. Now, they were older
than me of course, and experienced and I was a second year teacher and
oh my God, this militant afro-wearing girl from Howard University,
she
I had a student interview her last year actually about her own experiences about going to North Mecklenburg because she went there and that was interesting.
Oh, she was really the militant. Oh my God, we thought, oh no, she was .
. .
What did you think when Judge McMillian said desegregation has to happen? When it was ruled that it was going to have to be full desegregation? What was your reaction?
Alleluia, finally. Free at last, free at last. This is what Martin had
said. And it was turmoil. We didn't want Second Ward to close. See we
had this vision of this new school that was supposed to be called
Metropolitan High School, a comprehensive high school and E.E. Wadell
would bring out those plans and we would sit there and plan at staff
meetings and we were going to have this conference at high school and
look forward to being a part of it and then it closed down. And we were
sent out with a little bit of, I guess they'd call it sensitivity
training, diversity training, whatever, we did over here at West
Charlotte. I went to East Mecklenburg and I equate East Mecklenburg, my
first experience there, to the ice box. I shared a room, I was a
floater. I had been the star new teacher at Second Ward, worked with
Project Opportunity and just really involved. I was helped with the
annual and then to go
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
Okay, so you're saying that you've gone to the skill classes and those, unlike these other classes are all black.
All black. Second year there at East Mecklenburg, and there were the fights, the riots. One I remember this little boy ran into me and he said, "Ms. Hopkins, Ms. Hopkins, this spade hit me." "Spade, what do you mean? Spade is a card. I see what you're talking black, I'm black, I'm not a spade." The first year I hated it, the second year got a little better but I had gotten married and I, like all of my friends, that had worked with and we had been sent to white schools to integrate, we were starting sort of going with let's see how quick you can get pregnant because there was no maternity leave, there was resignation at an early point of your pregnancy. I was so happy to get out of there.
Really? So you got pregnant and that was what . . . .
I got married the first year, the second year I was there it was
procreate, let's get out of here. Oh, I never want to teach again, I
never want to go in another school that wasn't fun. I couldn't relate to
the kids. And you know, I don't remember many of the children, hardly
any of the young people I worked with at East Mecklenburg—it
was two years—but I can remember kids from Second Ward. I
remember kids that I had in my student teaching class but it's like I
wiped that out. There's another teacher here at West Charlotte, Bertha
Gongay who I drove, she didn't drive, I picked her up. There was another
young lady, we were the same size, probably same complexion and about
the same age and the principal changed our rooms, did some changing
about, but he didn't see us, he didn't know us. And she wore an afro,
her hair was styled and he was always getting us confused and that was .
. . I said, ‘you don't
Right. Yeah, that's what when I talked to everybody, it seems like those were really hard.
Those were the rough years and you were isolated. There's nothing like being isolated and not being trusted. Especially not to teach English to white children.
Really? They didn't trust you to do that?
They didn't trust me to do that. You take their skills class, you may do one or two regular classes, you never do AP, you're not trusted to do this. And that might not have been what they felt but that's what I felt.
And you said it sounded like the district really, you said you got this little bit of sensitivity training and that was that and they didn't really make much of an effort to try to . . .
In that process I lost a good friend that I'd worked with at Second Ward who committed suicide and I really believe that was part of it. If we had been with her this would not have happened. In fact, women didn't commit suicide. She put a gun to her head. Those are the years that I just, I don't deal with those. I deal with them, I can't ignore them but they were not good years.
So then you had children?
And my husband and I went into business and I worked for awhile. The
McDonald's cafeteria came out, John McDonald was my uncle and we built
the little shopping center here. I spent my summers in New York working
for him at Crown Heights in Brooklyn so he built the little shopping
center, my husband and I opened a business
Tried to
Trying to do that and Julian Mason was the department chair and he really
was a wonderful person, is a wonderful person. He invited me to teach a
class, freshman composition, that one number where everybody goes and I
did that and was encouraging me to go on and get another degree and work
at the University but I had children who needed me. We went to the
community school
Well, it sounds like to me when you left teaching, in a sense did you draw back from dealing with whites at all? I mean, except for working at the cafeteria, it seems like you kind of came back into your own world.
We had our own small business—yeah, I did.
And that was really . . .
And it was only when I went to UNC Charlotte that I started to deal with whites.
Under these better circumstances.
Hm-hm. Nurturing circumstances, wonderful circumstances. Especially to
Julian
How interesting. That is neat. Well, I want to say it is a little after ten, I don't want to take up more of your time that you have so I just wanted to say that, although I do have more questions.
Well..
If you have a little more time we can talk.
A few more minutes.
Okay, let's talk, if you wouldn't mind, just a couple more . . . I mean, I'm interested, I'm going to skip and we may need to talk again at some point just because it sounds like you have a lot, this is a on-going project, but when did you come back to West Charlotte?
Last year. I started, and I don't really want to say this but . . .
No, no, that's okay. But you're going to synthesize this and go through it anyway.
Well, let me
Okay. I came back to West Charlotte a few years ago, open school of
course, has
Well, I'm curious just from your year and a half here how you see, things that you see at West Charlotte that are similar to things you remember from when you were here and things that you see that are different.
Things that I see that are similar: adolescents are still adolescents, they still act the same way. What I see different is the culture of the school. There has been an erosion of expectations. There is not the pride in terms of living the pride; we talk it. And I have a saying that maybe is not very favorable that these children come here and they see it as one big West Fest; this is not a festival, this is school and we have got to change the culture and how children think about school. It doesn't matter where they come from, it doesn't matter what their experiences are, I have got to believe that it can happen. Separate is not equal and we have become a separate school. We are all, seventy-five percent or more African American. We are a separate school.
Hm-hm. And not equal?
And we are not equal. We were separate and we were not equal when I was here; I didn't know it and I'm glad they didn't tell me that I wasn't as good as anybody. Yes, I'm as good and you're doing just as well and the education you're getting is just as good as those kids at Myers Park. But it wasn't equal. And that's it. It's the same, you're separate and you're not equal. Adolescents are the same. The difference is the culture, the real commitment in believing that you can fly, you can do anything you want to.
And that's what you are really trying to get back to.
Hm-hm. I've got a saying a day: "To get to class, you gotta
hustle, you gotta walk ladies. Come ready to learn, come ready to
learn." I've got to say that every day I'm
Well, let me ask you, actually I have an idea related to this that I want to talk for a minute with you about so I thought we can close the interview for now. I think I would probably like to talk to you again at some point later in the future because it's obvious you have a lot more to say than just this in general.
I just like to talk.
No, this has really been a wonderful interview. Let me just ask if there's anything in summary right now that you think that's important about your experience at West Charlotte at any point in your life or the schools that we really haven't had a chance to talk about. Is there one particular thing that comes to mind that you wanted to . . .
It's so involving, there's not one particular thing that I can think
about that's . . . well, there's one thing that I see that I think is
important. When you talk about changing the culture, there was always
those teachers, the staff continued to talk to us, there were
opportunities for us to gather. The school is too big, those who were
seniors taught us how to do: This is the way you do things, and that's
what a culture is. We were taught the culture. This is the way you do
things. Came back to do student teaching, they looked me up and down,
head to toe and decided my dresses were long enough. Or everything. This
is the way we do things. I say at Piedmont we were a family. We lost our
media specialist a few weeks ago, Janice Tate. I just talked to her the
day before. Pam Grant, who was in upstate New York with her husband,
he's a Davidson professor, they drove back for the funeral. Everybody
was there. We are still, I am a part of the Piedmont family, I will
always be. We've got
Okay. Well, I'm going to go ahead and turn the recorder off.
END OF INTERVIEW