19 Oct

40 Acres and A Mule, 8-23-2016

Hello colleagues. There are so many things happening in the world that relate to our work here at school. The Olympics, the presidential race, ongoing popular culture phenomena… but I want to share something with you from the 1800’s that I think is as relevant to our work as anything happening in current events.

Please indulge me for a moment of history. In 1865, General William T. Sherman of the Union army, having successfully marched south through to Savannah, Georgia, met with 20 Black ministers—half of whom were slaves and half of whom were freedmen. He asked them, “What do you want for your own people following the war?” Their answer was unequivocal—they wanted land. “’The way we can best take care of ourselves,’ Rev. Frazier began his answer to the crucial third question, ‘is to have land, and turn it and till it by our own labor … and we can soon maintain ourselves and have something to spare … We want to be placed on land until we are able to buy it and make it our own.’ And when asked next where the freed slaves ‘would rather live — whether scattered among the whites or in colonies by themselves,’ without missing a beat, Brother Frazier (as the transcript calls him) replied that ‘I would prefer to live by ourselves, for there is a prejudice against us in the South that will take years to get over … ”

Four days after this meeting, on Jan. 16, 1865, and with the approval of President Abraham Lincoln, General Sherman issued Field Order 15, consisting of three parts. First, the order seized the land on the sea islands and 30 miles inland from Charleston, South Carolina down to Florida—a total of 400,000 acres of land—and allocated it to former slaves. Second, the order indicated that the Black people taking ownership of this land would govern themselves. Third, it indicated that each family would have a parcel of land of up to 40 acres (the mule came later.)

So what happened? By June of that year, 40,000 freedmen had settled on 400,000 acres of Sherman land and had begun the process of electing Black leaders to govern their newly forming communities.

After Lincoln was assassinated, in the fall of 1865, his successor, Andrew Johnson, a sympathizer with the South, reversed Field Order 15 restoring the land to white plantation owners.

I want to say that it blows my mind to consider how the subsequent 150 years might have played out if Andrew Johnson had not reversed this Field Order. Even by today’s standards, Field Order 15 was a radical and revolutionary response to the years of bondage, violence, and oppression that African Americans had withstood—it was the earliest attempt at reparations in the form of land redistribution. Given what we know about the systemic barriers to African Americans accumulating wealth across generations through property ownership, if Field Order 15 had been allowed to stand, the vast gaps in socio-economic status between African Americans and other races in the US might have been significantly different today. We may well not be facing the racialized achievement gap that we face today if Field Order 15 had been allowed to stand.

Why are we talking about this? Being reminded of this chapter in American history has affected my heart. The communication between General Sherman and the 20 Black ministers is a very powerful example of authentic partnership across difference to transform lives. It has made me ask myself two things: to what extent are we truly listening to what our community is asking of us? (as General Sherman did with those 20 Black ministers—who were extremely clear about what their communities needed.) AND What is the revolutionary and radical step that we are undertaking this year that could have a transformative effect on future generations?

As I reflect on the state of the US at this moment—from the murders of Freddie Gray, Alton Sterling, Philando Castile to the Department of Justice’s indictment of the San Francisco Police Department for racism to the current rhetoric in the presidential election—these questions are particularly poignant for me. The ILT [and other leadership teams] has been working on our instructional vision and our year-long goals. Our SSC, ELAC, AAPAC, and PTA have begun discussing plans for the year. I want to be clear that I’m going into each of these spaces with these two questions situated deeply in my heart—how is what we’re talking about (in any of these meetings) responsive to what we’ve heard from our community, and particularly our students? AND How is what’s being proposed or discussed in this meeting a radical or revolutionary step that will impact future generations?

I encourage you to join me in holding these questions in your heart. In your classrooms, how are you regularly and intentionally listening to students and their families? Not in a defensive way—defensiveness on the part of General Sherman would never have resulted in Field Order 15—but in such a way that trusts that they hold some expertise in knowing what they need. And what are you doing differently this year that might have a lasting impact on the young people before you? Are you planning to hold individual conferences with students regularly throughout the year to give specific feedback about their learning and communicate your love for them? Are you planning to greet each student at the door by name with a handshake, a hug, or a high five? Are you crafting a unit plan that allows each student to connect her oral family history to broader American history?

I am honored to work with a community of educators who are willing to take up these questions. The turbulent times are asking this of us.

 

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