February 21, 2009

Black History Month

February is Black History month. There is no Latino history month, no Asian history month, only Black History month. And for very good reason. Of all of the groups most used and abused in America over time, slavery of blacks was the most hideous. As a white girl from Michigan I heard my Dad refer to blacks as coons. He said that was because their eyes looked like those of a raccoon. In the 1950s I started to play jazz and watched Nat King Cole’s first television program. My Dad and Mom sat with me in the living room. It was quite an event, even in Holly, Michigan. Cole simply knocked me out. My Dad said, “That coon’s not bad, but I like Liberace better.” I didn’t say anything. Any discussion of race in my family ended up in a battle. Even with all of the current media attention to the evolving status of black Americans, it is nearly impossible to explain the depths of the white attitude toward and about blacks before desegregation. An English war movie in the 1940s was about a war pilot and his faithful black Labrador- Nigger. The only places where blacks seemed to be accepted in my youth were in sports or music.

I’ve worked with black children and their families for 45 years. It started out by chance and ended by choice. My first job as a teacher in Manhattan was in 1963. Culture shock is too mild a term. I was to produce 3 theater productions a year, including one musical, in addition to teaching English literature and reading. The children and their parents were very patient with me and together we made it all work. My last job in Manhattan was in 2002 at Harlem Hospital. I was to help create an early intervention center there, providing in-service to department heads about special education. Nobody was really interested except when it involved money for hospital projects. Even in Harlem, the idea of special education was not welcomed. That remains the case. And how do we know? Because how many advocates are on the ground and available to poor families in black urban areas? There are national organizations devoted to this. But when the smoke clears, where are the people willing to get dirty and stay in the trenches? Not to be seen. Race matters. And I’ve always felt that black children are more comfortable working with people who looked like them. As the only white teacher in an all black and Latino school for many years, you become color blind. But it takes a while. Black role models are important, which is much of the power of the Obama presidency to black America. Of all of the cases I’ve done, at least one-third have been for black children in urban areas. Many were settled just by showing up, the school knowing that if they did not do what was needed, the parent would file for due process. The carrot was the willingness to talk and negotiate, while the stick was always due process. Without the ability to litigate, most of those cases would never have settled. Those that were litigated usually ended in settlement in the child’s favor. Black advocates are needed for black children in every urban area of our nation, working at the community level. As we finish the month of February, my prayer is that by next year we will begin to see the seeds of special education advocacy sprout in the urban ghetto gardens of youngsters who need the security of both family and an individualized education.

To my complete dismay, I inherited a huge collection of coon songs from my grandfather. Coon songs were a genre of popular music in the United States from 1880 to 1920 that presented a racist and stereotyped image of blacks (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coon_song). They were usually written by whites, aiming to be funny, and using ragtime rhythms. Among grandpa’s favorites were “I Don’t Know Where I’m Goin” But I’m On My Way, A Coon Song Oddity”, and “Bon Bon Buddy, The Chocolate Drop”. As embarrassing as these are, my grandmother’s favorite was far worse, “Sympathy, A Coon Plaint” (complaint). Its lyrics could have been written for 2009:

Hard, hard luck, well I guess
that I have had my share,
Fortune smiles but
she just gives me the icy stare,
Seen the time a single dime looked to me like a silvermine.
Yesterday I took all my money
to the track,
Same hard luck, walked it all the way from Sheepshead back,
Lost my dough and friends I know just said “I told you so.”
All I got was sympathy, but it ain’t a bit of use you see,
When I was broke and hungry my friends all said to me
“Don’t worry Bill”, there’s lots of fish down in the brook,
All you need is a line and a rod and hook,
Ain’t it funny when you look for money all you get is sympathy.

Then came the talking movies and who did we pick as the first star? Al Jolson in black face singing “My Mammy” written in 1921, a transition song that switched from making fun of blacks to pretending to be black. There are so many parallels with black and white children who have disabilities now. We are not supposed to refer them for evaluation because certain questionable behaviors belong to their culture and therefore must be accepted. When a white child starts to mimic the language and actions of black children in the self-contained class in school, is that white family permitted to say that this mimicry in not acceptable to them and ask for another placement? I’ve done hearings on both scenarios. The celebration of Black History month opens the door for discussions in these and other areas. Let’s get started.