CHAPTER 29

By eight o-clock Monday morning, Elizabeth Eckford and her eight fellow students were assembled in Daisy Bates’s Little Rock living room. News reports said hundreds of segregationists had gathered at Central High School to block their entrance. Despite the danger, Bates and another NAACP official loaded the students into two cars, drove them along a little-used route to the school, and hustled them through a side entrance before the crowd could stop them.

Outside, too late, the mob yelled, “Keep the niggers out!” Inside, white students did more than hurl insults. They spit, hit, and kicked at the nine black kids. Some teachers tried to stop the abuse but others only watched. By noon, it was clear that things were getting out of hand both in the building and on the streets. Police officials ordered Elizabeth and the other students taken out through a basement exit and driven home.

This did not stop the uproar, however. Many in the mob were unaware that the black students had left. Segregationists, who had come from Citizens’ Councils all over the state and beyond, beat two reporters and eventually gained brief entry to the school. Exaggerated radio reporting created panic and street fights broke out at several places in the city and carried into the evening. White people and black threw bottles, hurled bricks, and broke car windows. Shortly before midnight, fifteen police patrol units were needed to turn back carloads of angry whites trying to get into Daisy Bates’s neighborhood with guns and dynamite.

Meanwhile, in midafternoon, as disturbances continued in the capital, Superintendent Appleby and Principal Woodhead prepared to deal with what they regarded as disorder in Unionville’s seventh grade. They dispatched Hilda Starr, Appleby’s secretary, to take over Becky’s class and send her across the street to meet with her bosses in the high school conference room. When Becky walked in, Appleby and Woodhead were sitting reared back in their chairs with their palms pressing on the table.

“Miss Reeves,”Woodhead said, skipping hello and an invitation to sit, “I told you the first time I saw you that I didn’t want any surprises this year. Who gave you permission not to follow the social studies textbook approved by this school district?”

Becky looked from the principal to the superintendent and back again.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she said. “I’m using the textbook.”

“Maybe you are,”Woodhead said, “but you’re not following it in chronological order like you’re supposed to.”

“I didn’t know that was a requirement.”

“Well, it is,”Woodhead snapped.

“I don’t recall being told that specifically, and I’m pretty sure it’s not in any of the written materials I received,” Becky said firmly, surprising the officials.

“Now see here, young woman,”Appleby said.“Don’t you get snippy with us. You know very well what we’re talking about. We know you’ve got those students of yours doing all kinds of projects and stuff while you’re just sitting round doing nothing. We also know you’ve got your schedule so messed up your kids don’t know when to study what. And we know you’re teaching integration.”

So that’s what this is about, Becky thought, integration. It fit with all she had been hearing and seeing in Unionville. She had figured she might get complaints about her methods but she had not expected such a direct charge. Still, she did not intend to back down from what she considered good teaching.

“Mr. Appleby, I don’t know where you got those impressions, but you and Mrs. Woodhead are welcome to come over and observe my class any time. The children and I will be glad to have you.”

The superintendent looked nervously at Woodhead, who seemed ready to explode, and then back at Becky, who merely smiled.

“I don’t have time to be traipsing around to everybody’s classroom watching them teach,” he said. “We’ve got parents complaining. These are people we’ve known a long time, and I’m sure they wouldn’t be calling us if you were doing what you’re supposed to.”

Appleby paused but Becky did not say anything more.

“Well?”Woodhead asked impatiently.

“Well, what?” Becky asked, as if she did not understand the implied question.

“What do you intend to do about this?”

“I plan to continue teaching my class like always, and I’d really like you both to come and observe. If you do, I think you’ll find that whatever complaints you’ve received are unfounded. My students are engaged and they’re doing good work.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Appleby said. “This is a small town and too many parents are upset. If you’re not willing to cooperate, we’re gon’ have a special meeting of the school board Wednesday night to review your performance and your contract.”

“And you’re confident you can review my performance without observing me in my classroom?” Becky asked, not giving an inch.

“That’s right. Now, I’ll ask you one more time. Are you gon’ cooperate?”

“I’m not going to change the way I teach, if that’s what you mean.”

“All right, then. We’ll see you here at seven-thirty Wednesday night.”