The Mayor of Sandy Point

A Three-Part Series (Part III)

The small island nation of St. Christopher and Nevis (St. Kitts) sits 257 miles southeast of Puerto Rico in the leeward island chain of the West Indies.  St. Kitts is shaped like a cricket bat.  Nevis, its sister island to the south, is shaped like a ball.  St. Kitts is 23 miles long and 5 miles wide.  It is a volcanic island with Mt. Liamuiga rising to nearly 3,800 feet at the northern end.  The 60,000 green vervet monkeys on the island outnumber the human population by a few thousand.

Like most of the island nations of the Caribbean, St. Kitts has a majority population of citizens with African heritage.  West African slaves were brought to St. Kitts by the British and forced to provide labor to clear the forests in preparation for the planting of sugar cane fields.  England and France fought for possession of the island during the 17th and 18th century.  St. Kitts gained its independence in 1983.

Hillarie Stevens Belle was born in the capitol city of Basseterre, St. Kitts in 1957.  After completing her primary education, Hillarie went to work in the sugar cane fields outside of Sandy Point at the tender age of 16.  Hillarie may be the hardest working and most resilient person I’ve ever known.  She is also one of the most generous and giving.  Our paths crossed in 1987 when I joined the Peace Corps and was assigned to teach physical education at Sandy Point High School.

After training in Miami and Barbados, I was sent to St. Kitts as a member of a small education team.  We were reading, physical education, and art teachers determined to make a small difference in the world.  Each of us found that we learned more and gained more from our host country than we were able to give.  Living in St. Kitts opened our eyes to the struggles and amazing spirit of the Kittitian people.

I arrived in St. Kitts in July of 1987 and headed to the village of Sandy Point at the northern end of the island.  I found a modest home in a section of the village called “de Ghaut.”  While the homes around me were sturdy and well-kept, many lacked running water and electricity.  As the only white person in the village, I became a novelty to the locals.  I was welcomed and quickly accepted by my neighbors.  My privacy was respected, but people always knew my comings and goings.

Part of our initial Peace Corps training focused on gaining an understanding of the culture and norms of the countries we were assigned to.  Many host countries had long-standing and somewhat erroneous beliefs about Americans.  It was with great energy and enthusiasm that we accepted that our job included breaking through those misconceptions.  I did all I could in my two years in St. Kitts to be a good ambassador.

Shortly after moving to de Ghaut, I met Hillarie.  I call Hillarie the Mayor of Sandy Point because everyone knows her.  By the time I met her, she had been working a variety of jobs, but she was mostly known as a seller.  She would sell food and snacks to the school children.  Her spot was perfectly situated between the Sandy Point Primary School and the high school.  Hillarie was raising her two beautiful children, Lionel and Renee, across the street from my house.  We saw each other every day.

Hillarie was an incredible mom and amazing provider, not just for her family, but for her neighbors as well.  With limited means, Hillarie took care of several people including me.  Hillarie could cook.  For two years, she cooked me Sunday dinner every week.  She made sure I tried every local dish.  I ate breadfruit, plantains, curried goat, salt fish and much more.

My two years in the Peace Corps flew by.  In August of 1989, I left St. Kitts and headed to graduate school at Northern Illinois University.  I left the island telling Hillarie I would stay in touch.  I did, for a while.  St. Kitts never left my heart, but my career, marriage, and children took their rightful priority in the years that followed.

In 2019, thirty years after leaving St. Kitts, I returned with my wife to celebrate our 25th anniversary.  I had no idea if I would see anyone from my time there.  While visiting Sandy Point High School (now renamed Charles Mills Secondary School), I asked the young headmaster if he knew Hillarie.  I wasn’t sure if she was still alive.  He immediately knew who I was talking about.  Of course he did, she IS the Mayor of Sandy Point after all.

With some assistance, I found a local man who promised to take me to Hillarie.  He walked me up the hill to her house.  I stood outside her fence yelling “Hillarie!” like I often did when I lived across the street from her.  There was no response.  I opened her gate and walked to the front door and knocked hard several times.  Hillarie finally answered.  I recognized her face immediately.  It took her a little longer.  When the recognition finally hit her, we hugged and cried for several minutes.

Seeing Hillarie again was overwhelming.  We were both so happy to find each other.  I introduced her to my wife and during our stay on the island we got together for dinner a few times.  Thirty years went by in the blink of an eye.  I feel so fortunate to have been able to re-connect with Hillarie.  I now call her faithfully once a month to check in.  I am committed to never letting her get away from me again.

Epilogue

In the first two parts of this series you met Mrs. Butler and Faith Smith.  Now you’ve met Hillarie.  The three of them have much in common.  They are amazing women, courageous Black women, who faced life head on and overcame significant obstacles along the way.  They also represent three of the most significant relationships I’ve had in my life.  I knew them on a personal level.  I didn’t read about them in a book.  My life is immensely and irrevocably better for having known them.  It is because of them that Black lives matter to me.

Are they the only reason that Black lives matter to me? No, of course not.  I have hundreds, if not thousands of reasons.  I have worked in schools for thirty-three years.  It is obvious that the schooling experience for a large number of African American children is much different than their white peers.  That shouldn’t be.  Black children shouldn’t have to overcome more obstacles to reach the same level of success as their white peers.

We ALL have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  When I say Black Lives Matter, I am affirming that it is MY job, MY responsibility, to make sure that the black and brown faces in my school reach their goals and achieve their dreams.  That means I will have to work differently for them.  I will have to be pragmatic, thoughtful, and vigilant in doing what is best for them.  I CAN do this and WILL do this for them, because like Mrs. Butler, Faith, and Hillarie, their Black lives matter to me.

It took Faith

A Three-Part Series (Part II)

In June of 1903, Black people living in the quiet community of Sykesville, Maryland petitioned the Board of Education to build a school.  The Sykesville Colored School opened in January of 1904.  For 34 years it served as an anchor for the community until it was consolidated with another school for Blacks four miles away.  Ironically, no transportation was provided to the new school causing the community to find creative ways to educate their children.  While the school no longer serves the children in the community, its legacy endures.

If you have the mind to see the old schoolhouse, you can take a left off Main Street in Sykesville onto the narrow and winding Oklahoma Road.  This scenic road runs parallel to the south branch of the Patapsco River and the B & O Railroad line.  It will lead you to Schoolhouse Road where you can find the meticulously restored Colored Schoolhouse.  The Schoolhouse Road community now provides low income housing for seniors.  It is an area that has seen much change over the years.

My family moved into a modest brick rancher near the Schoolhouse Road community in the late 60s.  Our home backed up to Oklahoma Road.  The mostly white population of Sykesville at the time numbered around 1,400.  The small population of African American families living in Sykesville resided near the old school.  The Dorsey family, a well-known African American family, dominated the area and held their annual reunion a few feet from my backyard.  I clearly recall the joy, laughter, and merriment shared by Dorsey family members returning to Oklahoma Road every year.

Faith Smith was born in Westminster, Maryland in 1964 and later moved into a home on Oklahoma Road.  She had several cousins in the Dorsey family.  Faith was a classmate of mine from elementary school through high school.  We graduated together from Liberty High School in 1982.  We were members of the first graduating class.  We were not close friends. We were respectful acquaintances whose paths crossed several times throughout our years of schooling.

Faith was probably the most dignified person I have ever known.  She was quiet and strong and mature beyond her years.  I never heard her utter an unkind word.  She was the kind of student others aspired to be.  She was a strong student and an even more talented musician.  I admired Faith from afar.

In 1981, Faith and I wrote a song together for the ring ceremony held at Liberty High School.  I wrote the lyrics and Faith put the words to music.  We collaborated at the Dorsey Family Center on Oklahoma Road several times to get the song just right.  It was a sweet song recalling the transition from childhood to young adulthood.  I marveled at Faith’s skills in choosing just the right notes and melody for the song.  The song was sung by a classmate at the first-ever Liberty High School ring ceremony.  Faith and I were proud of the fruits of our collaborative effort.

After graduating from high school, Faith earned her bachelor’s degree from Morgan State and a master’s degree in education from McDaniel College.  She also earned a Master of Divinity from Howard University.  She was the music teacher and director of music at St. Luke United Methodist Church for many years.  Her students and families adored her.  Our paths never crossed after graduation from high school and sadly Faith passed away at the far too young age of 49 in 2013.

In the sixties and seventies, if you were a white person living in Sykesville, you knew most of the Black families in town.  Sykesville was built on plantation land owned by the Springfield family.  It has a legacy of slavery and segregation that made growing up in the area a very different experience for people of color.  While Jim Crow and “separate but equal” officially ended the year that Faith Smith was born, I am sure that her family could tell vivid stories of the bigotry and racism they faced.

It took Faith, knowing her and watching her, for me to begin to understand the challenges of being African American in a predominately white town.  She was a strong and spiritual person from a loving family.  Growing up on Oklahoma Road, the legacy of the Colored Schoolhouse is one reason that education was so valued by her family.  I regret never telling Faith how much I learned from her.  If I could, I would tell her how much I admired her.  Faith Smith is the second reason that Black lives matter to me.

Next Up: Part III. The Mayor of Sandy Point

Sources:

The History of Sykesville

Sykesville History

Thank you, Mrs. Butler

A Three-Part Series (Part I)

I was born in Virginia Beach the year that Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act into law.  My father was stationed there in the Navy.  After he was discharged, we returned to Maryland where both of my parents grew up. I was raised in rural Carroll County.

When I turned five, I went to kindergarten at the church down the street.  Kindergarten wasn’t mandatory in 1969, but my parents made sure I went anyway.  At age five, I walked to and from school every day by myself.  My mother had two younger ones to care for, so I became independent.  I loved being independent.  I don’t remember my kindergarten teacher’s name and I don’t know how much I learned, but I do remember that it was fun.  I remember trips to the farm, finger-painting, and creating a shadow picture of my head.

Like many baby boomers, I can’t always remember what I did yesterday, last week, or last year.  For some reason, however, I can remember first grade.  I remember Mrs. Butler.  At the age of six, she was the first African American person I remember meeting.  She was also my first grade teacher.

I loved Mrs. Butler and she loved me.  She taught me to read and write.  She taught me how to add and subtract.  Mrs. Butler gave me a foundation that led to a life-long pursuit of learning.  In June of 1971, when school ended, I cried.  I was never a crier, but I cried big tears when first grade came to an end.  I remember kissing Mrs. Butler on the cheek and giving her a long hug.  I felt a little lost.  It was the saddest moment of my seven-year old life.

Fifty years later I still remember Mrs. Butler.  The faces and names of many teachers have faded with the years, but not Mrs. Butler.  Some say it takes three significant relationships with a teacher to ensure that a child will succeed in school.  Mrs. Butler was my first and I can never re-pay that debt.

If it takes three significant relationships for a child to succeed in school and life, how many does it take for them to care for others?  How many significant relationships with people of other races does it take for a person to see the value in all human life?  I think three is a good number.  More would be better, but let’s go with three for now.

Mrs. Butler was my first significant relationship with a Black person.  She was the first non-white person that I loved.  Life is a little simpler when you’re six.  You base how you feel about others on how they make you feel, how they treat you.  Mrs. Butler made me feel good about myself.

I don’t know what challenges Mrs. Butler had teaching in Carroll County in the 60s and 70s, but I am sure that she regularly faced bigotry and racism working in a largely white school district.  That never stopped her from taking care of her students.  What an honor and privilege it was to have her as my first grade teacher.  Mrs. Butler is one reason, the first reason, that Black lives matter to me.

Next up:  Part II.  It Took Faith

Leading for racial equity

“Washing one’s hands of the conflict between the powerful and the powerless means to side with the powerful, not to be neutral.”

-Paulo Freire

I think a lot about race.  Not just because of recent events, but because I believe that education is the key to changing the views of the ignorant.  Racism is ignorance.  It’s the inability to see that we all have value.  Most of us probably believe that you can’t change a racist person’s heart.  That doesn’t mean we stop trying.  As an educator, I must believe that people can evolve.  It’s what we do.  We help people evolve.

I feel a sense of urgency to speak and write about racism, but only if it will lead to action, not just the actions of others, but my own.  Speaking and writing require thought.  Thinking hard about something requires reflection.  But speaking and writing aren’t enough.  We must do something.  What can school leaders do about inequities and racial injustice in their schools?  The answers are not simple, but they are incredibly important.

The first step to fighting for social justice is the recognition that all students do not have the same access to a quality education.  The second step is understanding that even when students do have access to a quality education, their race impacts their ability to take advantage of it.  The longstanding belief in America is that everyone has an equal chance for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  They don’t.  Deep and longstanding structural and institutional barriers still exist.  If teachers and school leaders don’t recognize this, they are unlikely to do anything of import for students of color.

If you recognize and accept the first two premises, then you are at least ready to do something about racism and racial injustice.  If you accept that inequities exist in the quality of education available to students, then you can commit yourself to improving the quality of education for marginalized groups.  If you see how education is not enough, then you can work to break down the barriers that keep students from having the same chance at success in life.

The ability to recognize racial inequities is easy for some, harder for others.  You need an awareness of others and the world if you are going to be an advocate for all students.  Overt racism is easy to recognize and confront in schools (or let’s just say it should be easy to recognize and confront).  That doesn’t mean justice is always achieved, but if a student uses a racial slur, most schools have a discipline code they follow to apply consequences.  Subtle bias and racism, however, are much more difficult to identify and address.  Schools are reflections of their communities.  Anti-racist administrators and educators must be willing to talk about what ails their community.  When schools ignore the quiet murmurs of bias and prejudice in their buildings, they give power to the ignorant.  If you have lived a sheltered life, you will be challenged to see the racial inequities that could be right in front of you.  We don’t know what we don’t know, but we can’t use that as an excuse to disengage.  So…

Educate yourself

You don’t need a racially diverse group of close friends to care about and advocate for others.  You do, however, need to believe in the value and importance of all people.  We can’t assume that everyone has those values.  If you believe in the value of others, then you must also be willing to learn about the world outside your little bubble.  You need to be well-read and seek knowledge and understanding from a variety of sources.  While you can learn a lot from committed study, you can learn even more if you…

Listen to your students

The best listeners look for meaning beyond the spoken word.  How much knowledge could we gain from our students and their families if we truly listened to them?  Listening takes time.  Listening requires commitment.  As important as relationships are, they must go beyond the superficial level.  The only way to get beyond the daily niceties of teaching is to have real conversations with students.  That means you will sometimes have to put down the curriculum and open yourself up to spontaneous discussion.  Yes, that’s scary, but those are the times you will get unexpected insight into the lives of your students.  Once students know you are listening to them, you’ll be able to…

Make sure they know you believe in them

All students need to know that someone believes in them, but students from marginalized groups need to know it and feel it more often.  If you grow up being told that society doesn’t value or accept you, you develop coping skills that make you question any feedback, including positive feedback.  If you foster trusting relationship with your students, they will believe it when you tell them how great they are.  When you tell them, tell them specifically why they are great.  Telling them “why” reminds them that someone they respect knows who they are.  If you tell them you believe in them enough, it will…

Help them believe in themselves

When we help students believe in themselves, we equip them with the skills to take on the world.  The world can be harsh and unforgiving.  It can also be inclusive and inspiring.  When students believe in themselves, they are prepared to take on bigotry.  When students believe in themselves, they have the confidence to break through barriers because they know it’s their right.  We can do this for students.  We can do this every day for students by consistently challenging their thinking.  The ignorance of bigotry and racism can be overcome by school leaders and educators who are willing to speak up and speak out for their students.  I believe this because, like Paulo Freire’s quote below suggests, it is the only way we can make it possible for students to become themselves.

“The teacher is of course an artist, but being an artist does not mean that he or she can make the profile, can shape the students. What the educator does in teaching is to make it possible for the students to become themselves.”
― Paulo Freire

Serving Those Who Serve

The following appears in the March/April edition of Principal Magazine, all rights reserved.

-co-authored with Erica Natalicchio, school counselor

Every year, half a million military children leave their homes and schools to travel to new destinations around the United States and the world. Military families average such a move, known as a permanent change of station (PCS), every two to three years. This creates significant challenges for families who bear an inordinate number of obstacles related to military service.

State and local school systems must support military families as they transition to new locations. According to the Interstate Compact on Educational Opportunity for Military Children, states must provide uniform treatment of military children as they transfer between school districts, observing its guidelines for the transfer of records, academic information, and placement, as well as guidance on immunization records, age of entry, and special education services.

The National Center for Children in Poverty (NCCP) issued a brief in 2010, “Trauma Faced by Children of Military Families—What Every Policymaker Should Know,” which outlines the impact multiple deployments can have on military children. These include high rates of mental health issues, trauma, and related problems; changes in school performance; and higher rates of behavioral and emotional difficulties. The brief also noted that redeployment often impacts the mental health status of at-home caregivers, compounding the effects on children.

NCCP’s research says that children are resilient to the effects of changes in parental deployment. But the brief confirms that families who receive support services experience less deployment-related stress. This is where schools come in: With time and focused effort, schools can develop a range of supports for military-connected families.

Available Resources

There are numerous resources, organizations, and programs available to support schools and military-connected families. These include educational liaisons, the Exceptional Family Member Program, the Military Child Education Coalition, and various wraparound social services. Each provides very specific services for families and schools.

Educational liaisons. Every military base or post employs an educational liaison to assist families and schools. School liaison officers (SLOs) are the point of contact on an installation for everything school-related. Typically civilians, they are familiar with unique aspects of military life that can affect families. They help build partnerships between families, installations, and schools and act as the point of contact for the installation.

The Exceptional Family Member Program (EFMP). Run by the Department of Defense (DOD), this program assists families by identifying and enrolling family members with special medical or educational needs. Representatives find out what services are available at a current or new duty station, and they support families with information, referrals, and nonclinical case management. EFMP assists service members with assignment coordination, ensuring family members’ needs are considered during relocations.

The Military Child Education Coalition (MCEC). The Military Child Education Coalition (MCEC) is a nonprofit organization that helps military children thrive in the face of transition and separation. MCEC works to ensure inclusive, quality educational opportunities for military-connected children. Its goals include:

  • Ensuring that the academic, social, and emotional needs of military children are recognized, supported, and provided for;
  • Empowering parents and other supporting adults to ensure that military-connected children are college- and career-ready; and
  • Fostering a strong community of partners that is committed to supporting an environment in which military-connected children can thrive.

MCEC has an extensive online library related to supporting military families, and its online newsletters, Voice for the Military Child and Just Sayin’, are excellent resources. MCEC also holds an annual National Training Seminar in Washington, D.C., that brings together a diverse group of educators, liaisons, parents, and service members.

Wrap-around social work supports. The armed forces provide military families with a range of supports for all aspects of military life. Counseling services for members and families are free and confidential, and the military offers resources including:

  • Military financial and legal assistance;
  • Job and education help for military spouses;
  • Parenting and military child care assistance;
  • Deployment help for military families;
  • Moving assistance for military families; and
  • Health and wellness assistance.

The challenge for schools is to build awareness and coordination when it comes to helping military families access social services and supports. Counselors play a critical role in connecting families with the resources they need, and they can help by developing partnerships with military-funded social service providers.

Welcoming Military Families

Schools are often the first source of assistance in helping military families feel connected to their new communities. To nurture a sense of belonging, schools can host new-student orientations over the summer and after winter break, common transition periods. New-student orientations should give families the chance to tour the school, ask questions, and meet the key personnel who play an active role in the students’ academic and social success.

Schools can improve service delivery, access, and relationships by becoming familiar with community-based resources. Offering convenient mental health services on-site allows for long-term care and support. School counselors should work quickly to connect with new families, especially those with children who have special needs. They should be trained to identify and understand the signs that indicate a student may be under serious emotional distress.

School counselors and administrators should also be familiar with Tri-Care, a commonly used health insurance provider for military families. As with nonmilitary families, insurance coverage often impacts the quality and availability of services.

School counselors have a responsibility to think above and beyond the usual comprehensive curriculum when working with a unique population. School counselors can assist military-connected families by:

  • Scheduling every student for a “minute meeting” with them. Minute meetings allow for a quick, general glimpse of how the student is feeling during his or her first few days of school and allows him or her to identify the role of the school counselor.
  • Fostering relationships with the school liaison officer to strengthen community partnerships. Families often rely on the SLO to understand the new community; counselors can be the link to that partnership.
  • Organizing a new-student ambassador program. Student-to-student outreach allows new students to meet and make friends at their new school while creating connections with classmates. New students can be greeted, given a tour, and taken to lunch with the same student on their first day.
  • Welcoming the entire family to promote the success of the military-connected student. Often, a spouse will seek volunteer opportunities. Schools should be open in communicating those opportunities and encourage parents to get involved.
  • Hosting a community social and emotional learning event that recognizes the challenges for military-connected families. Schools should look for and develop presentations that address the unique needs of military-connected families.
  • Inviting local military units into the school as role models. With parents deployed, this can help students to actively engage with adult role models during structured playtime.
  • Celebrating the Month of the Military Child in April. Link up with parent volunteers and PTA or PTO to celebrate the unique life of the military child. Schools with a large military population often celebrate “Purple Up Day,” recognizing all service branches.
  • Creating your own challenge coin to recognize good character. Challenge coins are a military tradition meant to instill pride, recognize hard work and dedication, and show appreciation for one’s service. Schools with a large military population can task their students with creating a personalized school challenge coin. Students can be nominated by any member of the faculty to receive a challenge coin.
  • Inviting the base or garrison commander to speak to the faculty. A school’s relationship with the base commander can provide positive outcomes for children and families. Ask them to speak to the staff about the unique aspects of the installation to give teachers a fresh perspective on what it means to serve in the military.
  • Using community-building circles to enhance relationships with new students. Community building circles are a structured process designed to build a trustworthy and encouraging classroom environment. Because of the number of school transitions that military-connected students experience, developing positive relationships with peers can be more challenging than with nonmilitary children.

Schools have the resources and expertise to provide the most important thing military families need—peace of mind. By recognizing and supporting the unique needs of these families, schools can make at least one aspect of their lives a little easier. In a small way, schools serve their country by taking good care of military-connected children. That is an honorable and achievable goal—one that can give a whole country a little hope.

Erica Natalicchio is a counselor at Pershing Hill Elementary in Fort Meade, Maryland.

Christopher Wooleyhand is principal of Pershing Hill Elementary.

https://www.naesp.org/sites/default/files/NatalicchioWooleyhand_MA20.pdf