I did not expect to find Jesse Jackson sipping orange juice in the lobby of my Birmingham hotel this past February. Still, I was not about to decline his offer to sit. So it happened that I chatted with a legendary civil rights activist just hours after setting foot in Alabama, where I had planned to meet with folks from several independent schools to forge a partnership across the Mason-Dixon line. Before running into Reverend Jackson, though, I had set out with a colleague from Vermont Commons School (Vermont) to explore the city. It was eerily deserted on a Sunday evening, and I filled the space with ghosts from decades past, the apparitions of Klansmen parading down the sidewalk in defiance of sit-ins. As darkness set in, I almost expected Bull Conner himself to dart out of the shadows, pick up his bullhorn, and order me back onto my airplane.
With the civil rights movement dominating my thoughts, I might be forgiven for stealing a quick word with the hotel staff to confirm that the Reverend Jesse Jackson himself was indeed in my lobby when we returned from our walk. The project that delivered me to Birmingham concerns the Confederate flag. Several years ago, a school district in Tennessee suspended a student for bringing the flag to school, and the student, claiming protection from the First Amendment, sued in federal court. I have taken that case and channeled it into a project in which my students at Brookwood School in Manchester, Massachusetts, collaborate with their counterparts at Battle Ground Academy (BGA) in Franklin, Tennessee, to ponder the limits of individual rights and the meaning of the flag itself. It only seemed fitting, then, that I would ask Reverend Jackson what he thought of that symbol, and his unequivocal response came as no surprise; he’s not a fan.
I was surprised, however, to discover that almost none of the students I met at two Birmingham-area schools think very highly of the Confederate flag, either. As it stands, my seventh-graders enjoy a lively dialogue with their counterparts at BGA. This conversation has helped northern and southern students alike confront deep-seated stereotypes of those on the other side of the Mason-Dixon line, and it has pushed them to consider the legacy of the Civil War. We northerners have found during the past two years that, while some at BGA look askance at the battle flag, to others it is a cherished symbol of ancestors’ sacrifices.
Brookwood students Skype with Mary Beth Tinker, whose 1960's-era Supreme Court case affirmed the right of students to express symbolic speech in school settings.
I was surprised, then, to discover that kids in Birmingham view the flag with such uniform distaste (in one classroom, the only student who responded favorably to the flag hailed originally from California). Why was the story different in Alabama than in Tennessee? My counterpart at Highlands had recently incorporated the same Confederate flag project into his own class, and he felt that his eighth-graders are perhaps now more likely to view the flag in a negative light now that they have finished that project. Yet the story was the same down the road at Advent Episcopal; few, if any, students there thought very highly of the battle flag either. I myself lean toward the hypothesis that Birmingham itself bears some responsibility for this mindset.
My three days in Alabama do not qualify me as an expert on the Magic City. Still, I left feeling that Birmingham had not just weathered the civil rights movement, but that it had been shaped by it. From my first stroll through its downtown, I was poised to find the worst. Even as I sought partnerships with schools to help my students challenge their misconceptions of southerners, I was burdened by the weight of the injustice doled out over many years in Birmingham. I waited for someone to give me the straight scoop — the dirty truth of lingering racism that undoubtedly lay beneath the varnished surface of southern society; it never came. I met with a veteran of the Children’s March who painted a flattering picture of race relations in modern-day Birmingham, and I stumbled upon the imposing sight of the "Birmingham Pledge" stenciled boldly on the side of a downtown police station ("Every person is entitled to dignity and respect regardless of race or color"). In Birmingham, it seemed, race is acknowledged.
Like Forrest Gump, I went to Alabama and stumbled into the margins of history, in my case by wandering past the outdoor wedding ceremony of a gay couple on the first day of same-sex marriage in Alabama. Chief Justice Roy Moore gained national attention that week for his order that local probate judges should ignore the recent federal court decision regarding gay marriage. In some areas — like the park through which I had unwittingly wandered — gay marriage was proceeding, while in other jurisdictions it was not. A cartoon in the local paper depicted Moore clutching divine streaks of lightning while blocking the doorway to the 21st Century. Having gone to Alabama to help kids discuss the Civil War and the civil rights movement, it was startling to be there on the very day that current events stirred such a lively discussion of states’ rights.
During my final morning in Birmingham, I munched granola as CNN broadcast dire reports of a "snow emergency" at home in Boston. Meanwhile, my wife and little boys awaited a pleasant snow day; there was no emergency at my house. I thought of that coverage later, when I had returned home and tuned in to the news from Alabama. The nuances of the story vanished on Boston’s airwaves, leaving just stark headlines ("Alabama Blocks Gay Marriage") to reinforce our long-held assumptions of the South. But during those three days, I had spent time with middle-schoolers at Highlands and Advent whose humor, sincerity, intellect, and curiosity reminded me of what I love about teaching middle school. My host schools were energized about the prospect of entering into a new dialogue, and I hold great hope of expanding what started as a one-on-one conversation between Brookwood and BGA to a much wider network of schools that will help our students become more open-minded. Teaching for global awareness is increasingly critical these days; let's start in our own backyard!