origins of our ideas and interrogate ourassumptions. This is our quest. We share ourexplorations here.Contemplating beginnings, Dawn wrote thefollowing narrative to share with Betty H. afterattending a class at Metro Regional EducationalService Agency in northwest Atlanta, housedin a former school that bears a strikingresemblance to her first elementary school:
I was filled with a sense of nostalgia and déjà vu.Classrooms in these buildings have high ceilings, transoms tothe hallway, several large chalkboards with narrowcorkboards on top, and two or three shallow closets along onewall. These closets held supplies, books, and the glue we allloved to eat in primary school. The windows to the outside aretall and still hold attachments for the canvas blinds that raiseand lower from the center point of the window. The little girlthat I was whispers in my ear as we share our memories of those days. In the transom, I see my best friend’s dusty,yellow flip-flop sandal, thrown there by the boy who loved totease. I remember my anger with that boy and the teacherbecause they didn’t seem to care that my friend was crying.I recall the clicking, ticking radiators; the creaking of thewooden floors; the smell of chalk dust and mold; and thebathrooms with the plywood stalls and short sinks. The tall,low-to-the-ground windows remind me of being the classroomfire marshal. My job was to check the hallway door with myhand. If it was hot, we had to climb out the windows to safetyduring a fire drill. My little friend and I giggled about how ourteacher must have hated the month when it was my turn asclass fire marshal!I remember recess under the tall oaks, enjoying tea withacorns and leaves for our china. Our school had a treasuretrove of books in the library, but no librarian. When wefinished our work early, we were able to explore the prairiewith Laura Ingalls Wilder or blaze a new trail with DanielBoone.Now, dimmed by my administrative responsibilities as anassistant principal, I realize what is not remembered. I cannotremember details of day-to-day classroom instructions. Howdid I learn about letters and the magical way they come
Hubbard & Spruill
The written wordbears transformative power forceful enough to ground visions of social change, yet gentle enough to plant the seeds of understanding.