The 1619 Project, MLK, and the Subtle Indignity of a Lazy History Teacher’s Assignment

Dedicated to my classmates

Happy Birthday Dr. King. Photo by Raffaele Nicolussi on Unsplash

Decades have passed since I’ve thought about the reason American history remained my least favorite subject throughout high school.

My ears held captive to Nikole Hannah-Brown’s 1619 Project via the NY Times podcast, “The Daily,” on my way to work one day in late 2019, transported me back to my old history class through a dusty memory.

Enthralled with her lyrical delivery of how slavery shaped this country as the foundation of our economy, culture, and capitalist society by upholding white supremacist ideals within a racist hierarchy — my hour commute wasn’t long enough.

Circa 1970s.

Mr. Gordon’s reputation preceded my experience of him in U.S. History my first year of high school. I had a marginal interest in history. After his class ended, I hated history, him, and the proverbial horse he rode in on. He was the singular most reason for my disdain of a subject it took me years later to cultivate an interest — to appreciate my people’s truth within the framework of life on American soil.

When we received our freshman class schedules my best friend’s sister, a junior, asked to see mine. She frowned. “Oh Gawd, Mr. Gordon for history? You’re screwed — he’s racist.” She scared me. Another day in the life of carrying the disadvantage of my skin color into an unwelcoming door — a burden no child need shoulder.

I loved school. Restricted from full expression at home it represented freedom to me.

Mr. Gordon was a toupee wearing WASP of medium height leftover from white flight of the neighborhood along with a smattering of white students. His daily uniform — a white short-sleeved shirt with a thin black tie tucked inside black trousers and his habit of swatting greasy strands of a muddy brown hairpiece from his shifty blue eyes spoke volumes. Stuck in the past decade with a mindset mirroring his backward thinking.

The ethnic landscape changed during my tenure at my high school — in a residential neighborhood with a large Japanese American demographic — it dwindled from a student population of mostly Japanese and a small percentage of Caucasians to a population of mostly Black and Mexican Americans.

On the first day of class, Mr. Gordon outlined his expectations: special projects, extra credit, tests, discipline. Every assignment turned in on time was key to achieving success in his classroom. No exceptions.

Each day was the same with minor variations. Attendance, assignments, discussion of previous night’s homework. He tried to discuss the chapter we read but nobody paid attention. His disinterest was infectious to a class struggling to find their place in the world. If he couldn’t get excited about his subject of expertise, why should we?

When we approached the whitewashed chapter on slavery and abolition, he skimmed over what little positive contributions our old books offered in Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman. Instead, he focused on slavery — made us read aloud about being treated less than human by a dominant race. As if we enjoyed the part we played.

We endured snickering from the nonblack kids in the classroom without reprimand and glanced at each other with a shared pain in our eyes. He didn’t notice.

Perhaps he didn’t know how to teach us from a perspective that would allow us our dignity intact. Never once did he consider how it might feel to be a Black student in his history class. He couldn’t change the history book, but he had the power to help us mitigate our perceptions of being on the wrong side of history. He could have encouraged open kind dialogue.

The ability to see the world through a child’s eyes is key to reaching beyond the resistance or apathy of youth.

MLK

Unconfined to knowledge of my cultural heritage through school — I had a slightly militant response. At 10 years old I had marched for our civil rights in affiliation with Martin Luther King Jr.’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference.

My mom was on the planning committee of the future Los Angeles Chapter. We read books on his teachings, volunteered, and marched on weekends. Mom’s best friend hosted clandestine strategy meetings at her home with Jesse Jackson, Bishop H.H. Brookins, Ralph Abernathy, and their clergy.

Back to class.

Subtle indignities

We learned we lived in a world that bought and sold us like peanuts to build America’s economy — a hard enough lesson for budding adolescents. The biggest indignity of all awaited us at the end of the chapter worth over 70% of our final grade.

The assignment

“The special project due in four weeks is a detailed poster board depicting your place in history,” said Mr. Gordon. I found his word choice derogatory. After class, I pressed him.

“What do you mean, our place?”

“I mean, based on our history book–how you see yourself in history.”

College-bound — skipping the assignment — not an option for me. I was so angry I grabbed my books and stormed out of class. As we all left, friends complained they weren’t doing it. They’d rather fail than risk humiliation.

I decided my depiction of slavery would be the best he had ever seen. I asked a friend destined to become a world-famous artist if he applied himself to recreate a picture out of our history book.

Slaves were dressed in colorful hats and neat work clothing. There were various scenes of labor — in the big house, cotton fields, and wooden buildings being constructed by bare Black hands. Then I colored it to perfection and glued neat rows of cotton onto the board to give it dimension.

Mr. Gordon nor the rest of the class could hide the shock on their faces when they saw my project. I aced the assignment, bid him adieu and good riddance.

Now that the 1619 Project has spawned a curriculum the debate is whether we should allow the narrative inside our classrooms. How long should our children have to swallow the indignation taught in our own schools?

The 1619 project recounts not only the atrocities we’ve endured but the contributions and sacrifice of a people that enabled this country’s ascendance into a place everyone who ever sought freedom wants to come for a chance to thrive and leave a legacy for their offspring to build upon.

When the core of an educational system dismisses the integral role of an entire race — it’s the easiest vehicle to deliver denial of pride in a people sidelined as a non-factor. To keep our children from developing self-worth. It starts in the classroom, but it also starts at home.

Parents must own the responsibility of teaching their children who they are and where they come from so they are able to decipher between a half truth and the real truth in American history.

Pundits who argue the 1619 curriculum will rearrange or rewrite history seek to continue this nation’s root cover-up. It opens a Pandora’s box for America and not in its best interest to expose the hypocrisy.

“Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.” ― Martin Luther King Jr.