I was a sophomore at an urban high school that was nicely integrated. We had just lived the journey to achieve integration in our schools. When I was in elementary school, there were 2 African American students in my school. By junior high school, the school was integrated, but African American students were still very much the minority, and there was another junior high school, not far from the one I attended, that was predominately African American and another that was predominately Hispanic.
Our generation was at a crossroads in our attitudes. Many, of all races, were raised in families that embraced prejudice and clung tightly to the belief that segregation was the best way to go. White parents and black parents and Hispanic parents spoke of the school pride that was attached to the 'black' and 'white' and 'Hispanic' schools. I do not remember, among adults, a strong desire for change. Rather, I recall a rather complacent acceptance of continued segregation, steeped in fear and ignorance.
But my generation was ready and willing to cast off the past and friendships developed easily between races. We were in a fertile environment of learning, playing sports, engaging in theater and enjoying a wide range of other activities together. Students were interacting, developing friendships, even trying on a bit of dating. We were the experiment in integration and it was working. Integration in our school felt easy; natural.
Then, Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot. He was shot in the evening, and I remember sitting around or tiny Philco black and white TV, feeling shock and confusion. News coverage in 1968 was not what it is in 2012. Stations would break in with small pieces of info: "MLK was shot, condition unknown"; "MLK rushed to a hospital in Memphis"; "MLK has died at the hospital". That was about it.
The next day, it was not "business as usual" at school. People seemed.... tense..... distrustful.....afraid. Literally overnight, our student body became segregated again. Black students did not speak to white students and white students did not talk to black students. The lines were drawn. Fights broke out in school. Cherry bombs and M-80 firecrackers were thrown at students, randomly, by other students. There were rumors that some students were caring guns for protection at school. Soon, we had armed policemen in the hallways of our school.
We recovered - sort of. But the trust and camaraderie were never quite the same. We didn't recapture that special something.... that beauty of natural integration.
But the lessons of Dr. King resounded with us all. We had a heightened awareness of who he was and what he stood for. Sure, we had known that before he was assassinated, but now we owned that. And, he was the king of deep, thoughtful statements that could be held on to for comfort during those very difficult times. Some of my favorites include:
- In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends
- All men (people) are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality
- Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle
- What are you doing for others?
For me, those lessons of my youth has ingrained in me a spirit of asking "What am I doing for others?". Pediatric palliative care (#pedpc) screams that question at every turn. Infants, children, adolescents who are seriously ill and their families share some of the challenges that Dr. King had identified. They are a population who are often seeking equality in healthcare and are struggling for the answers that will enable them to survive the most challenging situations.
So many of my classmates chose careers that responded to Dr. King's query, "What are you doing for others?" Are we still getting that message out to our young people?
I hope so. Because, after all, "Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle" and "All men (people) are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality".
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