I’ve heard some terrible news about the school, the College Hill School -- you remember, that’s where I’ve always done my teachin' -- and now I’ve heard how they be goin’ to close it, and a little piece o’ my heart just broke right off! Why, my mama went to that school, and her mama went to that school, not to speak of a good number of all the people I know went there -- only school they was. It certainly’s not like the colored folks had a choice, exceptin’ o’course the High Point school up in Charleston. That’s where I went, along with my sisters. When my mama married my daddy, he just wouldn’t leave that little piece o’ land he lovingly called a farm. My mama used to say by no stretch of imagination could that rocky hillside be called a farm, but my father loved it. Said he loved having the river as a backdoor neighbor. He was always a bit fanciful in that way.

Well, anyway, back to the school. There just weren’t many choices for the colored children. Humh! Now there I go with that word again-- "colored." My niece would have a hissy fit if she heard me. She says that we ain’t colored any more -- we’re black. I just roll my eyes at her and tell her, "Child, I been knowing that lo these many years!" But these young folks today ... well, we raise them to think for themselves. We can’t go being surprised when they do!

My parents certainly did -- raise us to think, that is. My daddy always said that an education was the best gift you could ever give yourself, said that the more you knew, the better your life is. Said that the more you read, the better you understand folks, and not just folks around here -- even though sometimes they do need a heap o’ understandin’ -- but folks all over the world. Said that the more you study this world, the better you can know yourself, and find your place in it. He sure did put a mighty store of importance on learning. Only had a few years o’ school, himself. Had to quit and go to work. He was a hardworking man, worked three jobs for a time, just to get us girls through school. He called us his "schoolgirls." Said he was raisin’ a passel o’ "schoolmarms" -- and he did, too. All three of my sisters are in education, teachers, every one of us. And I can tell you that we’re all proud of that fact.

When we were comin’ up, there weren’t a lot of options for children of black families, particularly the girls. There just wasn’t any choices. The boys could get hired out in quite a number of ways, but us girls had it harder. Oh, there was always somebody’s laundry to be done, or someone’s floors to be scrubbed -- not that there’s anything at all wrong with that! Both my mama and her mama before her did their share of scrub work, and they did it with dignity. We were taught any job was worth doin’ if it earned you a fair wage, and any job carried its own respect. Yes, they taught us to respect ourselves, and that’s an important lesson for us all.

I do get to worryin’ about my nieces and my nephews and all of this change that's affectin’ everything. Young black folks, and white ones too, are takin’ to the streets and riding buses and makin’ an awful lot of fuss, and it does trouble me. They only thing is, it’s time for some changes -- some new directions, some rethinkin’ of how things have always been. It’s just time. Oh, I hate for young people to be hurt -- even killed, and that’s what worries me, because some will be ... hurt and killed. Change never comes easy. As my momma always said, "Change carries a pretty price tag." But I figure that all of this in on the Good Lord’s timetable, and that He’ll wind the watch when He sees fit!

Well, tomorrow’s the day when I go to the Education Office and report in about my new assignment. Word is that all of our faculty, exceptin’ those lucky enough to be retirin’, will be given a classroom in one of the other schools -- Mayfield or Bower, or Blythe maybe. Can’t say I’m really lookin’ forward to that, cause I’m surely goin’ to miss the old school. My sister would say I’m getting old and set in my ways -- and she’s partly right. So I guess I’ll just plant my feet on a new path and be proud that I can walk. As my granmaw always said, we all should bloom where we’re planted, and with the Good Lord’s help, I do intend to do just that.