COVER STORY : Of Pride and Prejudice : Programs at Two Schools Use Black History Month to Dispel Stereotypes, Promote Racial Harmony and Instill Pride in Heritage

At the heart of Black History Month celebrations lies the hope for racial harmony. February can provide an opportunity to teach those who are not black about black achievement, or it can give blacks a chance to learn about themselves.

At least that is how Black History Month, which began as Negro History Week in 1929, has come to be celebrated in many public schools.

The two approaches say much about how Black History Month celebrations can reflect the experiences, perceptions and aspirations of students and administrators, regardless of the size of a school’s black population.

At a Torrance elementary school with a tiny African American population, Black History Month was a time to teach young minds to look past stereotypes. Instructors at Howard Wood Elementary School chose to introduce their students to black achievers who defy racial stereotypes, hoping that that approach would build a reservoir of tolerance that would last the children into adulthood.

At Hawthorne High School, where 10% of the students are African American and racial wounds have already scarred some psyches, black teens used the observance to affirm their racial pride. The students, who put on a series of performances, chose to illustrate how black people find the spiritual strength to succeed in a society that, as they see it, will always be racially hostile.

Here is a look at the programs:

‘I Try to Let the Work Make the Statement’

To drive home the point that African Americans are involved in technological development and the sciences, Wood Elementary, which has nine black students out of an enrollment of 450, invited two prominent black inventors to demonstrate their devices.

The cafeteria was darkened while Hawthorne inventor Joseph Jackson used a projector to demonstrate the Telecommander, a device that parents can use to restrict how much time and which programs their children watch on television.

The children murmured appreciatively as black, orange and green graphics slid across the screen. But their mood changed as they quickly began to understand the purpose of Jackson’s invention.

Nobody liked it.

“Let’s say that Mom wants you to do homework from 3 to 5 (p.m.),” Jackson said. “Then all she does is press a button and block out that time on the TV and it won’t come on. No matter where you go they’re all blocked out.”

Orange squares spread across the black grid on the screen and Jackson smiled at the audience. As if stunned that anyone would brag about such a device, the children remained silent.

Jackson kept on.

“And with this button here, she can keep you from playing Nintendo (games) when it’s time to do your homework.”

This time, the kids protested:

“This is so messed up,” they said to one another. “How could he do this?” “I can’t believe it!” “Can you believe it?” “God, I hope my parents never hear about this!”

Then Jackson took questions. How did he become an inventor? What made him want to learn about electricity? Jackson did not talk about being a black man and what hurdles he had to leap to become an electrical engineer and inventor. The children did not ask about his color.

“I try to let the work make the statement,” he said afterward. “It’s obvious who and what I am when I stand up.”

Dr. Patricia E. Bath, who developed and patented the cataract laserphacoprobe used for eye surgery, demonstrated her invention after Jackson finished. Bath, former chief of ophthalmology at Martin Luther King Jr./Drew Medical Center, told the children about the qualities of laser light while sending a red beam to different points in the room.

The little children raced to touch the beam as it hit the back wall. The older ones were impressed, but were less enthusiastic.

A few, however, were puzzled: “I thought a laser was a gun,” said second-grader Chris Underwood.

“Well, lasers have many uses, but we want to emphasize the positive uses,” Bath replied.

Like Jackson, Bath did not mention her color, and the children did not ask her about it. Both said they hope the children simply remember that they have seen inventors who are black.

Interviewed after the assemblies, Jackson said that because of his race, he faced many obstacles in the Army and in his career, but he did not want to elaborate. Bath was more candid.

Bath said she has hit a glass ceiling in the corporate world, which, she speculates, would be happier to see her market fast food rather than medical equipment.

“Now I know they’d let me sell fried chicken but medical technology?”

Corporate America, she said, does not see a black woman as the ideal marketing image for technology.

After a pause, Bath added: “But you know, I’m grateful to the corporate world for giving me this challenge. You can’t be the first person to climb Mount Everest anymore and you can’t be the first to go around the world anymore. If I’m the first African American woman to succeed with her invention in the corporate world, well, then thank you.”

The Wood school assembly was organized by Deborah Fountain, whose 10-year-old daughter, Brishette, and 6-year-old son, Glenn, attend Wood.

“Since we talk about the superhighway that is evolving as far as communication and technology, I want (the school’s other students) to be sure to understand black people are there,” said Fountain, a member of the school’s multicultural relations committee.

The school administration has welcomed her efforts, Fountain said, but support for Black History Month has not been unanimous.

“I can tell that some of the teachers are thinking, ‘Oh, no. We’ve got to put up with this again,’ ” Fountain said. “ ‘This woman is always forcing this stuff on us.’

“But I’m trying to help this community,” she said. “These children will be adults when California no longer will have a majority of people who are Euro-Americans. They need to know about other people in order (that) they can live harmoniously.”

‘What Matters is What

You Think of Yourself’

Days before the Wood Elementary assembly, the issue at Hawthorne High was harmony. Literally.

Fifteen-year-old Nicole Thrash’s stomach was in knots. She had to sing a solo as part of a Umoja club gospel concert. Umoja--Swahili for unity--is the name of the school’s predominantly black cultural club.

Friends clustered around her, arms around one another and heads bowed: “We have courage in the name of Jesus. All fear has to go right now! Hallelujah!” they said, praying away Thrash’s butterflies.

The concert was the second event in the club’s lineup of Black History Month events. The month began with a step show--a type of rhythmic stomping and clapping done to chants that has been popularized by black college fraternities--for the school. The gospel assembly was followed by a marketplace with African and African American goods. The last event was an assembly that re-created the famous Harlem night spot, the Cotton Club.

As the start of the gospel concert neared, students filled the bleachers in the cavernous gym, pulling on jackets against the morning chill.

In the gym, a church scene was arranged. A pulpit, choir stand and seats were prepared. The Umoja members portraying the congregation were dressed in their Sunday best--boys in dark suits and gleaming loafers, girls with skirts, pumps, fans and careful hairdos.

Michael Brown, 17, had been sitting in the bleachers dabbing a handkerchief at his forehead. He jumped up to direct the choir as it stepped into the room, swaying to a gospel beat.

After a few songs, Thrash was joined by her brother, Robert, and the two sang “His Eye is on the Sparrow,” a popular hymn that was sung at Martin Luther King Jr.’s funeral.

Why should I feel discouraged, Why should the shadows come,

Why should my heart be lonely and long for heaven and home,

When Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is he:

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me.

The audience cheered loudly and some left with tears in their eyes.

Hawthorne High Principal John Carter was elated. For once, camera crews, reporters and photographers descended on his school for a story unrelated to gangs, violence, crime or racial hatred.

The school has had a reputation for poor race relations. During the past five years, teachers, staff members and former Principal Ken Crowe have brought numerous suits against the school district, alleging racial discrimination. In December, 1992, the federal Equal Employment Opportunity Commission ruled that the district discriminated against black teachers and staff, and that it created a hostile environment for students. Last year, the U.S. Justice Department launched an investigation into the discrimination complaints.

Efforts at the school are centered on healing the wounds. The Umoja club’s faculty advisers--special education teacher Linda Ellis and campus security guard Cindy Henderson (both of whom settled discrimination suits against the school district out of court)--said Umoja, which used to be called the African American club, changed its name to reflect its new emphasis on unifying the different factions at the school.

The praise accorded the gospel concert demonstrated that such efforts are worthwhile, they said.

“See! This is Hawthorne High School! This is what Hawthorne High School is about!” Carter said, milling among the singers after the show.

But it was the kids in the performance who were the most ecstatic. The pianist and drummer kept playing as the audience left. Then they changed the beat, and Michael Brown broke into a hip-hop dance.

Ellis and Henderson also were proud of the group for trying to convey the importance of the church in black life. To her, an event focusing on the black church seemed essential to a Black History Month celebration.

The students themselves glowed when talking about their performances--and the applause, the praise and the media attention they received. But the subject of black history itself sparked bitter comments, for the dozen or so kids interviewed say they have been taught little about their heritage beyond slavery and the civil-rights movement. In their minds, they haven’t been taught more because white society wants them to focus on black degradation and struggle, not achievement and success.

For them, last month was not primarily a time to educate their non-black peers. Rather, their efforts mainly served to reinforce their sense of self.

“We don’t do this for them,” said Mona Brown, 16. “We do this because it shows we’re proud of our history.”

“But we’re also trying to bring togetherness and unity to this school,” said senior Tiana Sanchez, 17, president of Umoja.

“Anyone can be in (Umoja), not just black people. And people who were racist to Caucasian members are not in the club anymore,” she said.

But some Umoja members said that in spite of the open-door policy, their club is regarded with suspicion by other students and teachers.

“Of course it’s because they’re afraid of us,” said Amee Henderson, Cindy’s daughter. “They know we’re stronger than they are because we have each other.”

Her bitterness stems in part from incidents of racial hostility from her classmates. “Look at the racial atmosphere here. They call you a monkey. I’ve been called a monkey.”

“But what matters is what you think of yourself,” Sanchez replied. “What bothers me is that I know I don’t know black history--but that’s because they won’t teach it to us.”

Sanchez continued: “We were slaves. We used to pick cotton. The white man was prejudiced.” She paused. “But I don’t know about (people who) contributed to medicine or inventors. We know nothing about, like, inventors.”

Said Amee: “That’s all I know too. We were slaves, there was a war. Martin Luther King came. They treated some black people almost human.”

Rozlynn Jamison says she does not expect to see much more progress. “Yeah, but we’re never going to be exactly equal. We’re never going to have what white people do and they’re not going to let us get but so far. You never will see a black president.”

Ellis has heard much of the conversation, but she does not interrupt. After the students leave, she agrees that Hawthorne High has “the potential to be hostile.”

But the potential for harmony also exists. The kids are not defeated, even if they are frustrated. They are excited about their accomplishments and are learning that praise is sweet.

This year’s Black History Month program was just the first step, a big first step, toward increasing self-awareness among African American students and promoting greater unity at the school, Ellis said.

Racial unity, she said, can be achieved, and the month’s events in a small way do reach the intolerant.

“I think (the events) touch some of them,” Ellis said. “There are some people we will never touch and that’s OK. The people I’m interested in touching are the kids themselves, and that’s happening. But if this does make others look at black students differently, then all the better.”