Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Teacher (10/26/06)
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TITLE: Popcorn Tells A Story | Previous Challenge Entry
By Constance Gilbert
11/02/06 -
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1959 had been a difficult summer; Connie's emotions were up and down. Not that a shy, 15 year-old's emotions are ever really stable, but she was terrified about leaving the comfort of her neighborhood school for the three story all-city high school.
If things weren't bad enough, Connie's parents decided to go see Uncle Bill in Mississippi where he was assigned to the shipyards. They never did explain why Connie and her brother and sisters would have to start school a week late.
Thus the unforgettable trip from Michigan to Pascagoula began.
Being a little town you could walk everywhere on your own. Connie was uncomfortable though when they visited the Five & Dime Store. It was old-fashioned with creaky, wooden floors and bins of stuff here and there. The clerks were the problem; they followed the kids all around the store. Worse, they kept saying, "Honey, can I help you?" in the syrupy sweet, southern way; and talked about them, "Northeners", as if they weren't there. Finally, Connie told them she wasn't their honey and gathered the boys to leave. She loudly remarked they would buy popcorn at the movies, thus they left the store without spending a penny.
After the tickets were paid for and the popcorn passed out, her cousins headed into the movie theater. It too had creaky, wooden floors and any movement by the kids in the balcony was felt downstairs. But I'm ahead of my story...
As the boys marched in looking for seats, Connie's oldest cousin told her to wait with him. Standing behind a pillar with chipped paint, Mark told her to watch the girl who had sold them popcorn. Not understanding, she just waited as the girl began sweeping the popcorn that had fallen on the dirty, wooden floor. Once her pile was complete, she reached for a dustpan.
“Now watch,” Mark whispered.
The popcorn was dumped into small brown paper bags then placed into a large cardboard box.
“The ticket guy will take it upstairs to the colored kids and charge them double what we paid for our big bag. After the movie, I’ll show you where they go to get in”
Connie was absolutely speechless and could not concentrate on the movie. Afterwards, she sent the boys “straight home” while she and Mark walked to the back of the theater. A wobbly, wooden stairway led up to the door that the colored kids used to reach the balcony. Some of the steps were even broken. Connie knew about segregation, but never really thought much about it until that sunny August day. As she walked back to the house she saw the signs ”White only” and shuddered. She’d cry later, but not in front of these Southerners.
* * *
Connie’s first day in high school wasn’t as traumatic as her nightmares- until she entered her English class. She stopped in the doorway and couldn’t move. Mrs. Johnson smiled and asked if she was Connie Munger. Although a desk was pointed out, Connie stood frozen; her mind was no longer in that classroom.
“Miss Munger! Take a seat; and be sure to see me at the end of the day for your assignments from last week.” Mrs. Johnson then resumed her lecture on English versus American literature. Connie sat down with her thoughts far from literature.
When she returned after school, Mrs. Johnson sternly said, “Miss Munger, I want to address your behavior this morning when you saw me. I have spoken with all my classes; I am an English teacher. Being the first Black teacher in the school system isn’t...”
“ No, you don’t understand! Mississippi... I just came from Pascagoula, Mississippi... it was horrid!” Connie cried for all she’d seen and all she hadn’t seen because she had been in “White Only” places. Mrs. Johnson understood.
They would have long talks before and after school for the next three years. Mrs. Johnson would be instrumental in Connie’s decision to care for those who were not wanted by others.
Connie has now retired from nursing, and still considers Mrs. Johnson the most influential person in her life.
Mrs. Pauline Johnson was an excellent teacher and it had nothing to do with the cocoa brown color of her skin. It had to do with knowledge, understanding, compassion, encouragement and her love of teaching. This is written in her memory.
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What I might change - I might not quote 'straight home'. The transition to school again could be abit smoother. Very nice writing and storytelling!!