Freedom Lessons

by Eileen Harrison Sanchez

  As he sat in his chair, his teacher sat on the edge of her desk. She looked at him for a long time before she spoke.

  “Frank, you were on the football team, weren’t you? I heard you were a star player at West Hill.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I was.”

  “Well, don’t you want to be heard too?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but I’m not going to miss class. I’m going to graduate, and I’m going to college.”

  Dr. Henson studied him. She ignored the white kids, who were whispering and shaking their heads. Then she said, “Well, there’s more than one way to succeed at something. All right, class. Let’s continue our discussion.”

  Chapter 30

  Colleen

  Friday, March 20, 1970

  Colleen walked to Evelyn’s classroom trailer to bring some of the carpet squares she had managed to get from the local Carpets My Way. Colleen had had the idea of asking for out-of-date samples so she could take the children outside to sit on the lawn behind the trailer. The manager had been kind and given her enough for her class, plus ten more.

  “I can’t believe you got anyone to give you these,” Evelyn said, as she opened the door.

  “It all happened after a stop at the library. That young librarian who’s been collecting books for me to use with my class told me where the shop was. You know, Jeanne, the one with the braces.”

  Evelyn shook her head. “No, I don’t go to that library.”

  Colleen handed her the carpet pieces with raised eyebrows. “Why not, Evelyn?”

  Evelyn took the pieces and turned to put them down. “My concern, not yours. Leave it at that.”

  Colleen sat on a student desk and plowed on, ignoring the gaffe. “Oh, right, well, I told Jeanne that I had some carpet samples in my classroom last year for story-time sit-upons. She was the one who recommended I speak to her friend who manages the shop.”

  Evelyn didn’t seem to be listening as she piled the sit-upons on a student’s chair.

  “I never would have found the shop if she hadn’t explained exactly where it was, at the end of Main Street, tucked back near the railroad crossing. I told her friend that Jeanne sent me and that I was a second-grade teacher at Kettle Creek Elementary School. He couldn’t have been nicer.”

  Evelyn stood back to look at the stack of carpets she had piled on the small seat. “I’ll find a better spot to store them when we get back from spring break. Where did you put yours?”

  “For now, they’re under the spare desk I use to set up the library books.” Colleen cleared her throat and waited for Evelyn to face her, then said, “I want to thank you for listening to me after that disaster with Jarrod. Your idea to take the children out of the trailer for some of our lessons has made all the difference. We’re happier outside. And the carpet squares help them stay in one spot.”

  “I’m glad it worked out. Thank you for the bringing me these. I never would have thought of using them.”

  The stack of sit-upons tilted and landed on the floor. “Some of these are big enough for two kids to sit on—that’s why they fell,” Evelyn said. She restacked them and left them on the floor. She took her sweater from the back of the chair, folded it over her arm, and picked up her pocketbook. “Sorry, don’t mean to rush you out, but I have to get home. I’m traveling to Baton Rouge as soon as I pack up my suitcase.”

  Colleen stood to leave. “That sounds nice. Let’s get out of here, then. Miguel doesn’t have the week off, but I sure can use it.”

  Colleen thought about how different Evelyn had become since their mentor meetings back at West Hill. Things had changed right before Christmas, when she’d warned Colleen that the Klan was watching her take the children to the library. Then Evelyn had remembered her birthday with a cake. Now they actually shared ideas. It was nice. She felt like they were true friends as they walked to the parking lot together.

  Chapter 31

  Evelyn

  Friday, March 20, 1970

  The pounding on her front door startled Evelyn. As she rushed down the stairs, she heard someone shout, “Miz Glover! Are you home?”

  The frosted glass window couldn’t hide the young man’s bulk.

  She opened it and said, “What’s wrong, Frank? Does your mama need me?”

  His fist was still raised from banging on the door. Evelyn saw his mouth shift from a hard line into a lopsided grin.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you. I wanted to ask you a question.” He looked directly into her eyes with a confidence she hadn’t seen before.

  “Come in, let’s sit in the parlor. I’m in a hurry, but we can talk for a bit. I’m leaving soon to visit some friends.”

  Frank sat on the edge of a side chair. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees. She clearly recalled how they had both lost their fathers in the same year. Frank’s father’s funeral service was the last one her father had planned before his massive heart attack.

  “Go on, ask me.”

  “When you sold your parents’ funeral business and bought this house, I helped out for a while. Do you remember?” Frank asked.

  “Of course I remember that. I think you helped move the very chair you’re sitting in.”

  He looked around the room and studied the furniture, piece by piece, before he spoke again. “Yes, ma’am, I did, and back then you said if I ever needed help, I could come to you.”

  “If I can help you, I will. What do you need?”

  The last she had heard from his mother was that he wasn’t seeing his friends, had stopped going to church, and spent a lot of time in his room.

  He took a deep breath and explained, “I need a job to save up for college. I saw an ad from Glover Funeral Services in the paper. Mr. Fields, the new owner, is looking for help. I can work after school and on weekends. I wanted to ask you to put in a good word for me.”

  She considered the request. Evelyn had never wanted to become an undertaker. Her father’s death had given her a way out. Frank’s interest in working there surprised her.

  “Of course I will, but all you have to do is go over and apply in person. Use my name as a reference. Remind them that you helped me move out of the apartment above the funeral rooms.”

  As she walked him to the door he had almost banged open a short time earlier, she thought of how proud his father would be. Frank would find a way to go to college, even without a football scholarship. She went upstairs to finish packing.

  Evelyn felt the tension in her body release as she sank into the driver’s seat. The trip to Baton Rouge would give her a lot of time to think, as well as a chance to breathe deeply and exhale with laughter, something she sorely needed. Lavinia would take her back to a time she had been freer, before her parents had died. Before everything had changed in the schools.

  Evelyn parked the car in front of a familiar house and leaned back to listen to the subtle sound of the swelling Mississippi River rushing past on its way to the watershed basin below. Excited shouts pierced the river sounds.

  “You’re here! How wonderful to see you!” Lavinia cried, as she ran to open the car door.

  “You look younger every time I see you. And you’ve straightened your hair. I like it,” Evelyn said.

  “I always admired your smooth style, and I’m not ready for an Afro yet.”

  Right behind Lavinia was her husband, and behind him were two children whom Evelyn didn’t recognize. They’d been babies the last time she’d seen them.

  “Come. Remember the twins? Look at my boys.” Lavinia glanced over her shoulder with pride.

  Two indistinguishable faces peeked out from behind her. Both had dimples and close-cut hair revealing perfectly shaped heads.

  “I can’t believe how they’ve grown. It’s been too long. Which is Martin, and which is Gregory?”

  Lavinia guided her boys toward Evelyn. “Show your manners, sons.”

  As the two boys extended their small hands, Evelyn felt pangs of envy, but she managed to keep it hidden.

 
; Lavinia touched them on their heads. “They’re in the advanced second-grade class and were just accepted into our church’s boys’ choir.”

  “But who is who?”

  “I’m Martin, and he’s Gregory,” Martin said, as he pointed to his identically dressed brother.

  “Sorry, but I’ll need more help than that,” Evelyn said, laughing.

  The two women exchanged smiles as the boys’ patience for manners erupted into pokes and giggles.

  “Let’s go inside and settle you into your room,” Lavinia said.

  Each boy took up a small case as they followed their father, who carried Evelyn’s large bag. Evelyn carried a bulky brown paper carton that the curious boys kept peeking at. She responded to their unasked questions with a wink and a finger to her lips as she whispered, “Later.”

  “Thank you, Martin, Gregory. Daddy will take you to choir practice while Auntie Evelyn and I catch up.” Lavinia ushered her sons out the door.

  Evelyn had lived with Lavinia’s family when the two of them attended Southern. Lavinia and her husband owned the house now and had turned the bedroom into a guest room. “I always loved this room,” Evelyn said, “and I was thrilled to share it with you.”

  Lavinia rolled her eyes as she sat on the bed. “Remember how we used to have to close the door so my annoying little sisters wouldn’t badger us with their silliness?”

  Evelyn was the only child of elderly parents. Lavinia was the eldest of five. Evelyn’s parents had agreed that she could live away at college if she’d stay with their friends. She had been grateful to find a companion her own age.

  “I remember the long nights when we would lie awake, talking and confessing about stolen kisses. Who was that first love of yours, Lavinia?”

  Laughter rose just as Evelyn realized who it was. She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Gregory! You named your son after your first boyfriend? Why didn’t I ever put that together?”

  “This room will never give away our secrets, and neither will you, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Evelyn knew what was good for her. It was good being here with her dear friend. She felt months of pent-up tension leave her as she delighted in the easy exchange.

  “What are you telling me? Do you still have a sweet spot for him? Who was Martin named for? I don’t remember a Martin.”

  The two women laughed at memories until the twins returned, running up the stairs and into the room.

  Evelyn handed them the gift she had brought from Kettle Creek. Lavinia was as astonished as the twins when they tore off the wrapping of the large package to see an Apollo moon rocket model kit.

  “How did you get this? Look, boys, the rocket has three stages and a lunar module,” Lavinia said, as she read from the side of the box.

  Squeals of excitement reached the living room, and Lawrence came up to see what was happening. Evelyn explained that a friend had purchased the kit at the army base’s post exchange. After the moon landing the prior summer, the base had stocked a large shipment of the kits.

  “They’re interested in the space race and the moon landing, aren’t they?” Evelyn asked.

  Lavinia answered her with a hug that took her breath away and said, “You’ve been too busy since your mama and then your papa passed. You need to visit us more often.”

  “This is very special, sons. Let’s take it to your room and put it together after we eat our dinner,” Lawrence said.

  After dinner and the rocket assembly, Martin and Gregory asked if Auntie Evelyn could read them a story before bedtime. Evelyn felt her heart flutter with joy as Martin handed her a well-read Little Golden Book titled Good Night, Little Bear.

  “One of my favorites,” she whispered. Envy shifted to longing.

  Lavinia was just finished cleaning up after dinner when Evelyn came down from reading. The two women went out to the screened porch to enjoy the evening and a pitcher of lemonade.

  “What’s wrong?” Lavinia asked.

  Evelyn wasn’t surprised that Lavinia could see how weary she was. “It’s been a difficult year at school. How are your boys doing with the mandated integration and school closures?”

  “Mandated what? I don’t have the time for such nonsense. Our school board and the community have been fighting over this since 1956. You remember Davis v. East Baton Rouge Parish School Board? Now they’re fooling with Freedom of Choice plans. Everyone’s ‘choosing’ to be with their own. We put the boys in a segregated church school so we don’t need to fuss. Anyway, I believe black teachers do a better job with black students.”

  Evelyn shook her head, thinking about Colleen. She was beginning to like the white woman but knew she needed to keep her distance. “But your family and then you were among the first to march against that school board decision. I don’t understand. It’s not like you to give up,” Evelyn argued.

  Lavinia had been actively involved in efforts to desegregate the schools with her parents. She had been one of the students who had participated in the early marches organized to demand equal access, materials, and supplies. The only marching Evelyn had done in college had been in the procession for their 1959 graduation.

  “I didn’t give up. I just looked for another way to get what I deserve and what our boys need. I’m still working as the library liaison for the elementary schools from the main branch of the Baton Rouge Library.”

  Evelyn felt her frustration mount. “You live in a big city. We’re small-town country folks. That isn’t an option for black families back in Kettle Creek or for me, either. We have to rely on the public schools. In one day, the school board destroyed what I had built for my students. Our school is locked up tight, and whatever I didn’t grab that first day is gathering dust in my classroom. Now I teach in a white neighborhood, in a white environment. Nothing is comfortable. Everything has changed.”

  Lavinia took her friend’s hand and said, “What do you want? It’s time to live the life you want. You’ve given up so much for your family.”

  Evelyn thought about how she had returned to Kettle Creek after graduation to help her father and hadn’t had any time for herself. “Good question: What do I want? I always thought only black teachers were best for our youngins, but the tide is turning.”

  “What’s going on back there in Kettle Creek?” Lavinia asked.

  “Integration is more complex than I ever could have imagined. I was mentoring this young white teacher before our school closed. At first I thought she was a foolish do-gooder, but she took her students, four at a time, to get library cards on Saturdays. She wants to know how to teach them, and she has some good ideas.”

  “Now, don’t you go letting her think that she can do as good as you. Next thing you know, she’ll be your boss. You know how that works.”

  The ride back from Baton Rouge felt endless. The monotony of the road matched her thoughts as she ran through the conversations of the weekend. What do I want? She and Lavinia had both changed since college, and their long-awaited visit hadn’t done the trick. Instead of lifting Evelyn’s spirits, it had filled her with anger. That surprised her. Their first night together had confirmed their similarities and revealed their differences. Both women believed that black teachers were best for black students. She felt as if Lavinia was hiding from the legal battle her parents had started for Lavinia and her siblings’ education. Evelyn had gone seeking answers from her friend and found that she already had them. She was the only black teacher who had kept her class in the crossover to the white school. She was proud of that and couldn’t let her students down.

  Lavinia’s words kept running through her mind, even disrupting her sleep. Yes, Evelyn had gone home after graduation to help her father run the funeral home when her mother passed. True, she hadn’t chosen that, but life had taken her on that path and she had accepted it. It had never felt like a burden. Teaching all week and serving families in mourning most weekends brought meaning to her life in ways she couldn’t measure. She felt her anger rise again, remem
bering her friend say, “It’s time to live the life you want.” She was. Evelyn didn’t want to marry. Lavinia had implied that her life was fuller with her husband and her sons. Evelyn loved children, but she was satisfied teaching and guiding them. She didn’t need to have her own. For a brief moment, after reading Good Night, Little Bear, she had had a feeling of regret, as if something was missing. Something was. It was her students, the class she taught. She realized how much she needed them because they needed her, especially this year. If she counted all her classes, she had taught hundreds of children. And many considered her a beloved auntie. Frank! She wondered how he had done with Mr. Fields. It was time to get back “to the life she had.”

  Chapter 32

  Frank

  Saturday, March 21, 1970

  Frank stopped polishing the chrome side bar to rise and greet his new employer, Mr. Owen Fields.

  “You sure like working on my new limousine, Frank.”

  “Yes, sir. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a fine machine.”

  Frank knew that Mr. Fields was pleased with his latest purchase for the Glover Funeral Home. Maintaining it so it shone could help Frank keep his job. The used 1960 Cadillac Landau hearse had leather upholstery and an automatic transmission. Frank used any excuse to get under the hood to admire the 325-horsepower, V8 engine. It helped him to come to terms with his resistance to car repair. Everything his father had taught him was paying off. He was a natural.

  “Do you like to drive, Frank?”

  Frank folded the chamois. “Yes, I do.”

  “Have you ever driven anything besides your mother’s old car?”

  Frank remembered how he used to drive with his father in the old pickup and the times he had helped to haul hay with the tractor on Ole Man Everett’s farm.

  “Does a tractor count?”

  “I’m sure it does,” Mr. Fields replied. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he held back laughter. “I could use another driver on Saturdays, now that I have this hearse. Would you like to try to drive it?”