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How One Woman Made Good on Her Extraordinary Pact to Send a Classroom of 1st Graders to College
by Oral Lee Brown, Caille Millner
Now, I always said she liked me because I was the ugliest kid in the class.
The other kids used to say, "Why does Miss Grace like that ugly girl?" But it
didn't bother me. First of all, I was just happy to be in school in the first
place. See, unlike the way things are for kids today, when I was growing up kids
were either in school or they were working in the fields. So we were all
thrilled to be in that schoolhouse. There was never any question of "cutting
class" like kids do today. If a kid was absent from school, it was because his
parents needed him to be at work in the fields. That happened to all of us
around harvesting time, and we were always sorry to leave our lessons.
I was doubly sorry to leave Miss Grace. For the first time, in addition to
having someone at home who loved me--that's my mother, I was always special to
my mother--I now had someone out in the world who loved me too. I often thought
about how I came to play Miss Grace's role in the lives of my students. And when
I got frustrated or upset with my students, I thought of Miss Grace, and that
gave me peace.
For Miss Grace and I had a special relationship. She even asked me if I would
like to spend the night with her every now and then. I must have been around ten
years old then. Of course I said yes, and whenever she wanted to have me over,
she would write a note for me to take home to my mother. And the next day when I
went to school, I took a little brown paper bag with an extra set of clothes in
it, so that I could stay over with Miss Grace.
Those were some of the best evenings of my life. After school was out, Miss
Grace and I would walk back to her little rooms in the boardinghouse. It was
only a few blocks from the school, not the six miles I had to walk from my
house, and we would just talk and laugh all the way. She was always carrying a
huge stack of books, and she gave me a stack of papers to carry. We would walk
down the streets just laughing, and all the men would stop to look at her. I'm
sure they were wondering, "Now what is that beautiful lady doing with that ugly
child?" But I didn't care, and Miss Grace probably didn't even notice.
Whatever I told her I wanted for supper, I would get it. We cooked the food
together, and then after supper I would help her grade the papers from that
day's class. If I didn't know the answers myself, she never scolded me for
grading wrong. She would just say little things like, "Well, think about it,
Oral, count it out to yourself. Is that really the answer you want to say is
right?"
And then, when it was time for bed, I got my own bed in my own room. I never
had anything like that at home! So you can understand how I just felt like the
most special person on earth around Miss Grace. Those nights always flew by. I
was always sad to wake up in the morning.
When I did go back home, I would be on a high from everything Miss Grace had
done and said. She was all I could talk about. It must have offended my mother
in some sense, to see her child--this child who loved her more than
anything--come in and go on and on about this other woman. It's a sign of my
mother's respect for teachers that she never said anything about it.
I have put Miss Grace up there with my mother in terms of what she meant to
me as a child growing up in the South. She was a true role model, and not just
because she was so gracious and sweet. She taught me more than any other teacher
I've had. I don't even remember the names of my other schoolteachers, but I've
been trying to look up Miss Grace for years. I heard she married a mean man who
beat her, and I hope that's not the case. If so, it speaks to his weakness
rather than hers.
Miss Grace showed me that education can take you places, even if you're a
woman. There were two facts about her that were fascinating to me--she came from
somewhere else, and she had gone to college. The fact that she had left her
hometown meant that maybe I could get out of my hometown, too.
Excerpted from The Promise by Oral Lee Brown with Caille Millner Copyright © 2005 by Oral Lee Brown. Excerpted by permission of Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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