The NAACP

This is the revision of an entry I posted several weeks ago. While I left a few real names, I hope it now conforms to the 'anonymous' standard.






I'm a member of the NAACP now.

I'm a little hesitant to write this entry. On the one hand, it's the coolest thing I've done since I quit drinking a few months ago, but on the other hand, it's really Brian Hawkin's story to tell and he hasn't really discussed it in so public a forum as the wide, wide world of internet publishing.

Nonetheless, there it is. Did you know that the NAACP was originally intentioned at the turn of the 20th century as a multicultural organization and the media has criminalized, trivialized, and marginalized it since? (Sorry, can't help but point out that beautiful marriage of form and content I just put together...) Well, basically, I attended a meeting recently with Brian Hawkins and a Mr. Gus McCoy who works for the local chapter and frequently criticizes my school district. Of particular concern was the on-again-off-again Black History Program at my school and the mistreatment and concealment of several wrongs done to students at my school by the administration.

Again, while I really shouldn't comment on the story about the students I've cobbled together through more hearsay and less firsthand experience, one item we discussed in particular piqued my interest philosophically speaking and has vexed me since: Colonel Mustard. Our principal is a retired 20-year army veteran, and rather than go by the 'Dr.' moniker he's earned he prefers 'Colonel'. At first, you think nothing of it; he's a pretty jovial, disarming and proactive fellow, not the best of principals (judging by the 'principal as lead teacher' model) but certainly not the worst by any means. And his disarming nature is part of the problem. By insisting that the rest of the world use his military title, inoccuously enough, he sends the subtle message that he's in charge no matter what and his wisdom and judgment are the final say. He is not required to explain himself to anyone except his higher-ups.

At the meeting, this became a sort of subdued battle cry. "We're not in the army, Colonel, we're in a public school. Public schools are publicly scrutinized and we're not calling you Colonel anymore, dammit!" And now that I've thought about this a little further, I find that it bothers me for several reasons. One is that I didn't stop to think about this before when it seems most obvious in hindsight, but then again, I wonder if I'm feeling this way because I'm part of the 'rebel' cause now at school and am simply following the mob. Another is that I don't even have the presence and character to actually stop calling him Colonel, largely because this seems so trivial and it's so ingrained that I just don't care even when I am conscious of it all passing by him in the halls. Lastly, although I always feel it is almost always a leader's responsibility to explain his decisions and not rule in a cloud of secrecy, I wonder if his sort of personality is the only one that might work at a school like mine with all its red tape. After all, the last principal, who is universally revered and admired for bringing my school up to level 5 status in the first place, also ruled with an iron fist and didn't care who complained about her no-explanations or excuses style. The difference, of course, is that there is a tangible feeling at my school that we could be a level 3 school very, very soon.

And if that's true, which is still a big if, I really pity those involved. I'd much rather help raise a school's status in the Delta temporarily than participate in the ruination of one of the few prestigious, excellent public schools in Mississippi. Not that I have the balls to make the jump, but still. We'll see.