I went to an HBCU (an Historically Black College and University), Florida A & M University in Tallahassee. I followed Forrest there, and Terry followed me. Terry was a year older than me, but he went to the Air Force first, for four years, and then entered FAMU.
I will forever be grateful to Forrest for making it his life's mission to get me out of China, Texas (our hometown) and off to his alma mater. The fact that he was able to persuade our Mom to let me go was nothing short of a miracle.
Prior to leaving for college, I had only traveled out of state once as a very young child, when we went to San Francisco to visit my mother's brother, her only sibling, and then a couple of other times when we visited relatives in Louisiana.
Leaving home was a big deal.
HUGE.
Folks in my neck of the woods didn't leave home.
But with Forrest's help, I left Texas, heading first to Miami, where he was living. We then drove north for 500 miles to my new home at FAMU.
I was . . .
Excited.
Scared.
Anxious.
Worried.
Thrilled.
These were just some of the emotions I was experiencing with each passing mile of that trip.
There were no visits to the campus prior to entering school to check it out. Forrest gave it his stamp of approval, and that was good enough for me. I knew he wouldn't steer me wrong.
The campus was/is beautiful. It sits on rolling hills and it's luscious greenery is a warm, welcoming site. It has a down home flavor, a large dose of southern hospitality.
In contrast, China, Texas is barren on so many levels, with a population of 1100 folks. When I arrived on FAMU's campus with an enrollment of 5000, and all of them Black, it was a shock to my system. A pleasant one, but a shock nonetheless. I had never seen so many black folks in all of my life. There were 10 black kids in my graduating class of 100.
This trip down memory land was prompted by an article I just read in the New York Times, by Charles Blow, one of the columnists, where he was reminiscing about his experiences at Grambling State University, in Louisiana, also an HBCU, and how nurturing it was.
Here's the link: http://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/08/opinion/blow-in-college-nurturing-matters.html?hp&rref=opinion&_r=0
My experience mirrored his.
My professors had a vested interest in my success. If I succeeded, they succeeded. If I failed, they had failed me, and that was not going to happen.
It was refreshing on a social level, too. As I imagined it is at an all-boys' or all-girls' school, there were things we had in common that didn't require an explanation or discussion. We could launch into conversations without fear of alienating anyone, or offending someone with our views. Not to imply we were monolithic in the way we saw the world, but our common denominator helped us to move more easily pass our differences as we navigated this new world.
I wanted very much for Ben and Frankie to attend an HBCU, but they had other ideas. To be fair, the world that they were raised in was radically different from mine. I'm not at all sure they would have been comfortable in an all-black setting.
Truthfully, that bothered/bothers me.
In our quest to send them to the best schools, did we inadvertently rob them of rich cultural experiences?
That's one of the many lingering questions that I don't have the answer to. Or maybe I do, but I don't like what it is, so I keep it in the question column.
Side note - This is the 40th anniversary of my high school graduation.
Good gravy!
Anyway.
Thanks for taking this walk down memory lane with me.
I hope all is well in your world.
I will forever be grateful to Forrest for making it his life's mission to get me out of China, Texas (our hometown) and off to his alma mater. The fact that he was able to persuade our Mom to let me go was nothing short of a miracle.
Prior to leaving for college, I had only traveled out of state once as a very young child, when we went to San Francisco to visit my mother's brother, her only sibling, and then a couple of other times when we visited relatives in Louisiana.
Leaving home was a big deal.
HUGE.
Folks in my neck of the woods didn't leave home.
But with Forrest's help, I left Texas, heading first to Miami, where he was living. We then drove north for 500 miles to my new home at FAMU.
I was . . .
Excited.
Scared.
Anxious.
Worried.
Thrilled.
These were just some of the emotions I was experiencing with each passing mile of that trip.
There were no visits to the campus prior to entering school to check it out. Forrest gave it his stamp of approval, and that was good enough for me. I knew he wouldn't steer me wrong.
The campus was/is beautiful. It sits on rolling hills and it's luscious greenery is a warm, welcoming site. It has a down home flavor, a large dose of southern hospitality.
In contrast, China, Texas is barren on so many levels, with a population of 1100 folks. When I arrived on FAMU's campus with an enrollment of 5000, and all of them Black, it was a shock to my system. A pleasant one, but a shock nonetheless. I had never seen so many black folks in all of my life. There were 10 black kids in my graduating class of 100.
This trip down memory land was prompted by an article I just read in the New York Times, by Charles Blow, one of the columnists, where he was reminiscing about his experiences at Grambling State University, in Louisiana, also an HBCU, and how nurturing it was.
Here's the link: http://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/08/opinion/blow-in-college-nurturing-matters.html?hp&rref=opinion&_r=0
My experience mirrored his.
My professors had a vested interest in my success. If I succeeded, they succeeded. If I failed, they had failed me, and that was not going to happen.
It was refreshing on a social level, too. As I imagined it is at an all-boys' or all-girls' school, there were things we had in common that didn't require an explanation or discussion. We could launch into conversations without fear of alienating anyone, or offending someone with our views. Not to imply we were monolithic in the way we saw the world, but our common denominator helped us to move more easily pass our differences as we navigated this new world.
I wanted very much for Ben and Frankie to attend an HBCU, but they had other ideas. To be fair, the world that they were raised in was radically different from mine. I'm not at all sure they would have been comfortable in an all-black setting.
Truthfully, that bothered/bothers me.
In our quest to send them to the best schools, did we inadvertently rob them of rich cultural experiences?
That's one of the many lingering questions that I don't have the answer to. Or maybe I do, but I don't like what it is, so I keep it in the question column.
Side note - This is the 40th anniversary of my high school graduation.
Good gravy!
Anyway.
Thanks for taking this walk down memory lane with me.
I hope all is well in your world.
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