Veteran Teachers

By Cady Herring

t’s a blazing summer day outside of I Clarksdale, where row after row of green cotton stretches to the horizon. Ida White stands stalk still. The 10-year old girl hurts all over. Her legs tremble. Her hands are numb. Her shirt is soaked. She doesn’t know if she can chop another row of cotton. She leans on her hoe, wipes her brow again and stares at the heavens.

“Lord, there must be a better way than this.”

And for Ida, there was. She found salvation in a classroom.

In fact, Ida and many other veteran Delta teachers share a number of common traits. They often grew up in desperately poor homes where their parents preached the same gospel: Education is the ticket to a better life. They heard it over and over from illiterate sharecropper parents. Night after night, in low-slung, weatherbeaten shacks homes with cramped living rooms, unheated bedrooms and no indoor plumbing. Education is the ticket to a better life.

Juanita Turney recalls when whatever the teacher said was law. PHOTO BY CADY HERRING

And so all the Idas and Juanitas and Lucretias went to school and studied hard and graduated with their teaching certificates – and then they eventually returned to Delta classrooms to preach the same gospel on which they’d been raised. Over time, this resolute group of teachers became part of the Delta’s educational DNA. Many ended up teaching history, math, social studies, reading and English for 30, 40, 50 years, showing up every August, year after year. By the time they retired, they had collectively taught thousands of children for hundreds of years.

This army of veteran teachers also brought something else to their classrooms: Not only did they promote education as the ticket out, but they also ended up becoming surrogate parents for generations of poor Delta students.

Summed up Dr. Dorothy Prestwich, Clarksdale’s assistant superintendent: “They do so much more than bookwork. These teachers do everything. They wipe the noses, kiss the boo-boos and embody character.”

Juanita Turney is one such Delta veteran. She starts off every morning with a phone call to Mary and Harold Hall to check in. Juanita met them at a Delta Foundation reception after they moved from Detroit to Greenville. It wasn’t long before Mary and Harold called Juanita “Mom” because she took care of them. She hosted dinners when they had guests from Detroit, visited often, and worshiped together at the same church. Juanita taught from 1942 to 1974 at Lucy Webb Elementary School. She didn’t plan on being a teacher, but she said, “There was nothing else to do in Mississippi but teach, work in a restaurant, or take care of somebody’s baby.” Once she started, she loved it. She taught 80 first-grade students a day. Half came in the morning and the other half in the afternoon. She made sure every single student learned to read. According to Juanita, there were no discipline issues. “Whatever the teacher said, that was law and gospel.” Because parents were so supportive, they were able to get much more accomplished in the classroom. Today at 95, Juanita remains a dynamic pillar of Greenville. She’s on the Greenville Symphony Board, Delta Center Stage Board, Greenville Tree Board and she’s a season ticket holder to all the plays and operas. A few years ago, she lost her billfold with all of her credentials. Her husband had passed away, so she called her friend, Chuck Jordan, who later became mayor. “Don’t worry! Everyone in town knows you!” he told her.

Lucretia Jones began teaching later than most because she was raising nine children at home. She wanted to be a teacher, and by the time she started, schools were integrated, but it was not everything she had hoped it would be. She began with eighth and ninth grade, but soon switched to seventh- and eighth-grade English. There were still many vestiges of segregation immediately after integration, Lucretia said. The school board was all-white, so black people didn’t have a say in any decisions or changes in schools. Even though there were better buildings and better

supplies, they did not have equality, she felt. “There were vestiges of the feelings that had existed with segregation,” said Lucretia. The board was the same board as before. Those in leadership positions were able to control how things worked while maintaining their own interests. Integration was just a word. In her classroom, students understood, to some extent, the meaning of segregation and integration. Returning to her classroom from the office one day, she encountered a student who was coming to tell her something. Eddie was from a large, poor family. When she asked him what the matter was, he replied, “Carl called me a name!” “What was the name?” she asked. Eddie wouldn’t say. So Lucretia asked again “He called me a Negro!” Lucretia replied, “Well, what are you?” She wondered if that was really the word that Carl used, but she didn’t interrogate further. Instead, she focused on educating the children and helping them love one another. Lucretia’s favorite thing about teaching was having an impact on children and creating a strong educational foundation. “I got a lot of respect and appreciation for the manner in which I taught them, and the fact that I was firm but friendly,” she said. “They understood that I was there seriously to help them.”

Basketball coaches encouraged students to miss class for practice at times, but Miss Jones’ students did not miss class because they understood its importance. Lucretia likes basketball, but to her, education always came first.

All three teachers agree that the biggest problem in schools today is the lack of parental support. It starts with a single parent having to work to financially support the family, but being unable to help with homework or volunteer in school.

“Children were better off back in my day,” said Juanita. “They had more help from their parents. Their parents taught them good things to do.

“Maybe it’s because they’re young. Maybe it’s because they haven’t been trained. They don’t know what it means to be a parent. There is a huge divide between parents now and parents then, and it affects students and the education system.”

When schoolchildren have support from home, they said, they can accomplish much more.

Students at Booker T. Washington Elementary in Clarksdale eagerly tackle classwork. PHOTO BY CADY HERRING

Ida White says if she could do anything to change education today, she would make parents take better care of their children. Kids would come to school dressed, shoelaces tied, lunch packed. Parents would volunteer, showing the child that they care about school, too. Parental support, she said, is just as valuable as the money that funds the school. At the age of 73, Ida White still has enough energy to teach a classroom packed with boisterous first-graders, children about the same age as her father when he had to quit “Children were better school to work on the farm. “Raise your hand if you want off back in my day. to talk!” Ida says. “Do you want to go stand outside the door? They had more help You’re going to the office. I’m from their parents.” not fooling! When you talk, you can’t listen. If you don’t listen, you don’t learn.” Occasionally, — JUANITA TURNEY she slaps a yardstick on the table to quiet the class. The social studies lesson for today focuses on communication, transportation, technology and recreation. Ida walks around the classroom pausing by different children to give everyone a chance to read from the textbook. “You are going to love this lesson because you are going to see some things that you’ve never seen before!” she says. She shows them an old-fashioned washtub and explains that people used to wash clothes by hand.

The walls are alive with charts, pictures and drawings. Students wear matching blue shirts and khaki pants or skirts. A poster of a train on one wall shows the days of the week. Another displays the alphabet.

As the final bell nears, a few heads start to nod, and the class grows a little sluggish, but Ida is right on top of it. Suddenly, she raises her voice and exhorts them into action. “Y’all sleepy? Let’s have some exercise!” she says as everyone stands. Ida leads them in clapping, jumping up and down, and deep breaths. Then, to wind down the class, she has them draw pictures of different types of communication, transportation, technology, and recreation.

Keniya Hayes’ mom has come to pick her up early, so the little girl gathers her books and homework. But on her way out the door, she spins around, runs up to Ida, gives her a hug and says, “I love you!” Design by Carson Cain

Ida White helps a student solve a problem in a late afternoon class. PHOTO BY CADY HERRING

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