I took the wrong train and got off on the right stop. I walked into the auditorium after stopping by the table shifted book store.
I now carried 3 hardcover books plus the books I had in my bag to read on the train. I stood at the back of the auditorium and kept my bags and coat ready to make an exit at the end of the event.
But if course, I didn’t leave immediately.
Hannah V. Sawyerr, Author of Truth Is
Each author that shared, must have picked the best part of their book because I wanted to buy more. And I did!
I picked up two books from Young People’s Literature:
Ibi Zoboi’s (S)kin, and Amber McBride’s The Leaving Room.
Celebrating Professor Patricia Smith Professor Patricia Smith reading poetry
After listening to Patricia Smith talk about her father and Mississippi, I just had to purchase her book of poetry, The Intentions of Thunder: New and Selected Poems. Her storytelling was sweet with sadness.
The nonfiction genre was difficult to pick from. I knew I wanted something but went back and forth between Jordan Thomas When it all Burns: Fighting Fire in a Transformed World and Claudia Rowe’s Wards of the State: The Long Shadow of American Foster Care. After listening to the finalists I decided that I wanted to hear more of the voice of Yiyun Li in Things in Nature Merely Grow. Her voice was pure grief but the writing technique sounded new.
Lastly for fiction, I bought A Guardian and a Thief by Megha Majumdar.
The most fulfilling day of the school year -this year- was welcoming children’s author and historian, Mrs. Lesa Cline- Ransome into our school on June 10th.
Last year the fourth graders read Finding Langston, a middle grade novel by Mrs. Lesa Cline- Ransome. They learned about the Harlem Renaissance and how it actually didn’t only exist in Harlem but in other Black cities like Chicago. They learned of writers like Langston Hughes and Gwendolyn Brooks. With Finding Langston alone, they spoke of many civil right issues, such as the housing issues that many Blacks faced then (a lot of them were able to relate to being homeless or not having a place to call your own). They also spoke of the right to a decent education and clean food. When speaking of rights, I exposed them to the 10 point system by the Black Panther Party and asked them if the rights that were asked for by the Party in the 70’s different from the rights we were asking for today. They also expanded their reading and writing skills. As their teacher I witnessed their level of comprehension increase significantly!
Below are mini paper colleges they did after studying the book’s cover. We spoke about different art mediums artist use. (By the way, I created my own reading packet which I will soon load on Teachers Pay Teachers).
Finding Langston‘s main plot is of a little boy who exists during the Great Migration. His family travels north for better opportunity- from a loving home in the south. The fourth graders learned that the Great Migration spanned well into their grandparent’s and parent’s generation. Their eyes grew wide when they realized how much this book was so closely related to the past yet to their present.
After we read the book, there was a celebration!
The fourth graders pose for a group picture during the Renaissance Party
The theme of the party was the Chicago Renaissance. Each student came in as a character from that era. I was the librarian who welcomed prominent writers in to the library built for Blacks. All day my students called me Ms. Vivian (after Vivian Harsh).
The following are the realistic characters my students dressed up as. From the left: Mrs. George Cleveland Hall (Dr. George Cleveland Hall’s wife), Lorraine Hansberry, Ms. Augusta Savage, Ms. Elizabeth Catlett (this character was so popular that this year they all mention an interested in visiting the Elizabeth Catlett show at the Brooklyn Museum…one of them went with me on a random Saturday outside of school), Ms. Katherine Mary Dunham (this character was the one the girls fought over- because who doesn’t want to be a dancer?!), Ms. Margaret Walker, Me (as Ms. Vivian Harsh) , Ms. Gwendolyn Brooks, the little boy in the hat was Mr. Langston Hughes, and the little boy at the far end was Mr. Useni E. Perkins (poet of Hey BlackChild). The day of the party they came in full character… so full that I had to remind them that I was Vivian Harsh- with an emphasis on harsh. In high spirits, they traveled to classes and asked students and teachers to guess who they were after putting on short skits. My principal confessed that she didn’t know all of them. Her face lit up when the little girl said yes, you’re correct, I am Katherine Mary Dunham.
At the Brooklyn Museum with Mariah viewing Catlett’s work
The following year when I had them for fifth grade, I started the year with the book’s sequel, Leaving Lymon. With this book, they now spoke about family relationships, detention centers, food lines, and factories in America. They completed a food and race relations project for their work to be shown in a gallery in New York (will share the show soon). They learned about Blacks living in Milwaukee who faced harsh working conditions.
In Leaving Lymon, the reader meets Langston’s bully, Lymon, and finds out why he is a bully. This book teaches compassion for both the victim and the bully. Fifth grade used the lessons during the school year. They had disagreements and once there was even a fight but the core lessons of humanity and self respect was taught and even in very tough times apologies were made and friendships rekindled.
Right here, I want to mention the beauty of these two novels and how apropos it was for them to read it at the appointed time. During the school year, we as a community experienced a death and it was so unexpected. However, my class was already talking about social- emotional skills and self respect. I want to say it was because of the readings they were greatly comforted.
In February of 2024, some of my students joined the program (that I run outside of school) Soap Recipe, on a Black History Celebration trip to Philadelphia, PA. There, they met Mrs. Lesa Cline- Ransome at the African American Children’s book fair. And, oh, what a meeting! For a teacher whose joy it is to find ways for children to connect the past to the present and realize how valuable their history is- I felt loved when my students found Mrs. Lesa Cline- Ransome (on their own) in a gigantic overcrowded gymnasium. They recited Langston Hughes’ One Way Ticket to her between smiles and shrieks. Everyone there witnessed how learning, reading, and writing have the power to transform a human. Everyone was touched at how my students laureled Mrs. Cline-Ransome and in turn honored their educated selves.
One day I was at my computer reading my emails and saw that Mrs. Cline- Ransome was going to attend a book event with the Center for Black Literature in Brooklyn. I told my now fifth graders I was going to be absent because I was going to an event to meet Mrs. Cline-Ransome. I then asked them what they thought about inviting her to the school.
Will she really come?
I don’t know. But is it that hard to write a letter and ask?
With this question, they stopped to do what they did best- argue- about writing the author.
If she doesn’t come it will be a waste of time.
But if she does come, it won’t.
Ms. Hurley, is she your friend?
Of course She’s Ms. Hurley’s friend! She’s going to meet her!
I did what I did best- I quietly waited until they were done arguing, then told them to start writing. I was surprised by the content of their letters. They didn’t even need two days to write her. They put forth their best penmanship and diction. I didn’t have to tell them to use their raggedy dictionaries that they vowed to keep neat in September but by May were a mess. Each writer got up and got their dictionaries.
When I arrived in Brooklyn, I gave her the letters at the end of her workshop and she gave me 12 signed bookmarks for my students.
Book Marks given to the fifth grade signed by LCR, I laminated them and put ribbons in each oneMe posing with LCR in Brooklyn Letter from ZahyraLetter from YahariaLetter from CourtneyLetter from Power
The author never forgot that moment in Philly, and said so when she responded to their new request to come and visit their school. She returned their sheer passion and joy with an excited yes! Even though she was in Europe when she decided, yes, she’ll come- she emailed me her interest in meeting my students.
Letter from BrooklynLetter from Nia McKay Letter from SanaiahLetter from MariahLetter from LoganLetter from McKenzie Letter from CharleighLetter from Carson
Before she came, the students went into preparation mode with tenacious energy. Needless to say, it was challenging. It was nearing the end of the school year and there were so many trips, events, and parties happening. In the beginning of the preparation, they argued and fought over who would do what until some of them wished they never wrote her. That wish turned into another argument (that I got involved with). But as time got close, the dedicated fifth graders (with some help from the nearby fourth graders) worked on mini skits, Bottle projects, and a huge classroom banner while their schoolmates read books by the author, wrote papers and drew images to honor her arrival.
Nia drawingCourtney, Brooklyn and Power working on a bottle model of LCRFourth Grader Ryan drawingLCR bottle project and Yaharia smilingThe Bottle Project LadiesMcKenzi scan newspaper articles related to LCR book topicsNia focused Fourth Graders Laysean and Omari draw cars from the 1940’s with Logan
When she came, my students were walking to the sanctuary. I double checked my email and saw that she was outside. I told the students and they rushed to the front of the building! All twelve of them were surprised that she actually came.
There are very few moments when I can say they stopped talking this year, and this was one of the them. When they saw her step out of the car they all got quiet.
That’s really her! I heard one student whisper.
They did not even run to open the door! They stood on stairs, gawking. Some were pointing while others stood with their hands over their mouths.
I told two students to go down and let her in- to which when they did like robots. Then, they continued to stand there and gape. She broke the silence by saying- Ahhh, …can I take a picture of all of you?! I, of course couldn’t stop smiling.
That morning, I ordered over one hundred dollars worth of KFC for the class as a surprise. After the two hour talk and book signing, they returned to a classroom that smelled of KFC. They ate with the author and put on their shows, read their poetry, shared their art and brought up their favorite topic – Ms. Hurley doesn’t know how to spell Tick- Tock correctly.
To add to all the excitement of the day, Mrs. Lesa Cline-Ransome’s husband, James Ransome, came and spent some time with us at the very end! What can get better than that?!
By her departure, they were back to themselves, doing what 11 and 12 year olds do best- show off (this is after arguing of course).
Before I end this post, I want to mention one question I heard one of my students asked her during her lecture. She wanted to know why Mrs. Cline-Ransome includes the father (as a character) in all her books. My student struggled to ask the question because she asked the question from a very vulnerable place. While reading the books and talking about relationships with my students, I didn’t realize that because most of them were in house-holds without their fathers, reading her books gave them a sort of insight into a world in which the father existed everyday- and this world, they learned, was a very possible world.
I, Too Arts Collective, in partnership with the Coretta Scott King (CSK) Book Awards Committee of the Ethnic & Multicultural Information Exchange Round Table, presented a celebration of 50 years of the Coretta Scott King Book Awards featuring CSK Award-winning authors: Tiffany Jackson, Lesa Cline-Ransome, Rita Williams-Garcia, and Renée Watson. The discussion was moderated by Jennifer Baker.
In September of last year, I had the wonderful opportunity to meet editor and scholar, Deborah Plant, whose work and dedication to the writings of Zora Neal Hurston is an example of how we can commit ourselves to writing and use it as a tool to uplift our community.
The first time I read Hurston’s work, I was in college. I was going through different works by American writers and Hurston was on my list. Her name did not grace any of my professors’ syllabi so while I would have liked reading her work with others, I read it alone.
Attending the book events in Brooklyn finally enabled me to listen to an open conversation about an author whose work I’ve enjoyed.
As I sat listening, I begin to list reasons why I enjoyed this Renaissance writer:
She was in search of herself and looked for self, in others.
She saw the importance of stories within the community
She appreciated the little that people had, and saw a lot in that…
Plant began by a moment of silence. Welcoming the ancestors’ energy into the room, which surprised me. I guess the more I attend events such as this one, I would not be surprised by libations.
She then began to read an excerpt from Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black Cargo” by Zora Neale Hurston. Listening to Plant reading Hurston’s writing so effortlessly would make someone think, it is an easy reading. But I found out how hard it was after purchasing the book and going to another event where acclaimed authors read her work and stumbled over her writing.
I sat absolutely still while listening. I had a fear that a minor shuffle would cause me to miss one word which would mean missing a ton of information. She began…
It was summer when I went to talk with Cudjo so his door was standing wide open…
…Captin Tim you brought us from our county where we had land, you made us slave now they make us free but we ain’t got no country and we ain’t got no land, why don’t you give us piece of this land so we can build ourselves a house?…
…we call our village African town…we want to go back in African soil and we see we can’t go....my folks sell me and your folks, American folks buy me. We here and we gotta stay…
After the reading, the auditorium was very still. No one moved a bone. Then, Dr. Brenda M. Greene, the director of Black literature and chair of the English Department at Medgar Evers College, started the discussion with the following proverb.
A person doesn’t die until the living stop telling their stories.
I learned that the thoughts I had from time to time about being black in America were thoughts that were okay to have and okay to speak about. More importantly, I should engage in conversation about these types thoughts more often.
You see, asking myself where I belong or wondering about my family tree are thoughts we all have. None of them are disconnected from the thoughts of our ancestors. The only difference is our ancestors had to fight an even greater fight. They were up against a society that told them they were cargo and not human. This is the society in which Hurston fought against and wrote for. As Plant said,
… When it [came] to the humanity of a people, [telling our stories were] so important… when she…[ became] an anthropologist; African Americans, people of Color, were not considered fully human! If human at all! She [was] an anthropologist at the beginning of the field of anthropology…
She [was] at the beginning of things. During that time…the so-called social scientist and anthropologist ….had this attitude about people of color, certainly black people that not only were we a vanishing species… but when it comes to the human pyramid [we] were at the bottom and not quite human…the history of our experiences on the continent of Africa…tells you what exactly people thought about us.
…all of the doctrines that supported that…this is what they were teaching…this was in the newspapers. We were monkeys…we were considered not what we were…everything that Hurston did was a contradiction those lies. Everything that she did was a contradiction to something called white supremacy…
Everything she did.
Rather than just outright [deny] the lies of white supremacy, what she did was present a positive response…let me show you what we are, let me show you our humanity, let me show you our language…let me show you our community…let me show you not only our stories about what has happened to us but also those tales of laughter because yes…it is how we actually get through these kinds of things.
As the discussion continued, what it meant to be considered an activist, a renaissance writer and how to allow ourselves to weep when feeling the longing for something called home dominated the discussion.
Plant explained it this way:
As human beings, two of the most important questions we ask ourselves… [are] who am I? and where do I belong? …When you’ve been deracinated…from everything that you know…not just your mother, [but] your mother tongue and your motherland; and you can never ever have that again, [you ask yourself] who am I after that? [and] where can I ever belong, after that?…[Barracoon] allow us to see our own wound. Just like [the main character] hasn’t healed from it, we haven’t either. We are still asking ourselves the same questions. In America, where do I belong, if not in my own apartment?
So, this is why it touches us so deeply because we are still asking the same questions…the fact that [Hurston] allowed [the main character] this space [to weep] speaks to her own humanity … and tells us we need to do the same for ourselves. When do we give ourselves time to weep? To grieve? To mourn? When do we even acknowledge, I really don’t feel good?
It was at the point that I began to cry. I had never heard someone put into words this personal feeling that I felt but never spoke about. I looked around the room and could see black older men and women shaking their heads.
As the conversation continued, I had a flashback about the time I was in fifth grade and found out that I wasn’t American even though I had been taught the Pledge of Allegiance and the Star Spangle Banner in Kindergarten.
You not American! My white science teacher told me.
I looked at him with a quizzical face and stood my ground, Yes, I am. I was born here. Right in the Bronx!
I was surprised when my best friend, Tina, who was from the Dominican Republic and the the boy I had the biggest crush on, Edwin, laughed with the rest of the class.
My teacher laughed as well. Then pointed to the next person who said he was from Jamaica. I didn’t know why I couldn’t call myself simply American if I was born in America but someone who was born in Jamaica was allowed to say Jamaican. I felt hurt and pain and so confused. I forced myself not to cry because it was vital to pay attention so I could find out who I was. But Mr. Will never got back to me.
This was part of the beginning of my search. And, the flashback ended with the deaths in my family. Once again, the questions unanswered.
Hurston was committed to capturing the plight of the impoverished and rural African Americans and in essence help to keep alive what a lot of us ran away from. We know of the Harlem Renaissance stories that spoke about our people leaving the south during the great migration but she went back to the south to preserve what those who didn’t leave, had. In revisiting, preserving and reminding us that no matter how far we go or have come we still must allow ourselves space to weep.
Over the spring break, I attended Kweli’s book conference (the third annual Color of Children’s Literature Conference) held at CUNY graduate center in Manhattan.
I was super excited about going to the conference because I enjoy reading and writing stories for children.
The Kweli conference keynote was given by author, Angela Johnson. A trendsetter for children books and an admirer of mine. It was my first time meeting her and hearing her speak.
Her speech set the tone for the conference. It was full of purpose, yet very comical and light. She began with short funny anecdotes about her book tours at schools. The following story (paraphrased) is one story she told that was my favorite. It made me think of a little girl in my class:
She began, Every elementary school has a little third grade girl who just knows everything. When I arrived at this particular school, I was assigned THAT girl. Her name was Ashley. When I told Ashley I needed to use the bathroom, she replied, I’m going to take you to the bathroom no one knows about; and she took me up to the third floor…I stayed in that bathroom for about a half hour or more locked in! Finally, when Ashley returned. She asked, Ms. Johnson, are you ok? Yes, I replied, I’m locked in. Ms. Johnson, she asked, did you push or pull the door?
I laughed out loud at this story as I could see and hear the little girl in my class asking the same question.
As she continued her speech, the theme of memory and high expectations kept recurring. Even though she spoke about serious topics like race and acceptance, the mood was very settle and light.
She spoke of her traumatic experiences as a first grader in 1967. It was interesting to hear how her parents did their best to prepare her for a world that was not welcoming to people of color and at the same time, her parents also seemingly managed to keep her sheltered enough so she could enjoy her childhood and the skin she was in.
“I had been told earlier on, she said, that the world would expect a little bit more of me”. Many parents of color often tell their children even today, that they have to work extra hard. However, her father put it in a more subtle way.
“My father, she continued, “had told me I couldn’t be ordinary and I didn’t understand that…I been told gently by my father that some people wouldn’t accept me…I knew it had something to do with maybe the color of my skin. He never came out and said it”.
It seems like Ms. Johnson was given an opportunity (as most children) to look past people skin tones and treat everyone equally and expect the same fairness back, because her parents guarded her innocence.
Nonetheless, in first grade, she begin to understand the the world wasn’t all it was cut out to be.
On the first day of school during roll call, her teacher escorted her out of the classroom, pinned her against the wall then proceeded to ask her why was she there.
She continued, “I ached to be in the first grade…I always felt like I belonged in my world…they had showed there was no difference in all of us…so why was this teacher who was suppose to be my first grade teacher asking me why I was there?”
‘As a first grader, I understood very little of what was going on’.
Eventually, she was moved to another first grade class. Nonetheless, the memories stayed.
In her story, I learned that the person who placed her in the first- first grade class was seemingly a daring person. She was painted as a hippie, someone who believed in change and taking chances. However, this hippie teacher, an adult, had to know how this other teacher was. As Ms. Johnson spoke about this hippie character, she praised her. But, I wondered, was she really praiseworthy and fully innocent? She probably could have saved Johnson the trouble of experiencing this trauma as a little girl by not placing her in this prejudice teacher’s class altogether.
Johnson went on to explain how much [we] are responsible for children and I would even say, their memories. True we do not control how children perceive experiences but if we work really hard to give them great ones, (and we know when they are great because a happy adult makes a happy child) then we have met them half-way.
I relate this story only because it was one of my earlier memories, I relate this memory because it was one of my earliest traumas, I relate this trauma because it’s gone a long way in my understanding children and those people that are responsible for children and how we treat them on this planet.
I am very happy I was able to attend the Kewi book conference. It was like a breath of fresh air to hear many authors and illustrators speak about their work! Ms. Johnson’s welcoming and friendly tone set the mood for the rest of the conference. I walked away with a strong sense of who my work was for and why I am responsible for their experiences and memories.
By Hillel Italie AP National Writer NEW YORK (CBSNewYork/AP) — The Apollo Theater audience cheered and cheered for Ta-Nehisi Coates, and the readers of “Between the World and Me.” A capacity crowd at the famed New York City venue was on hand Monday night for a stage recital of Coates’ prize-winning book, one met throughout…
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