Yesterday, I boarded a bus, a plane, another bus, and a boat with a hundred eighth graders, helping chaperone my students on a trip to Washington DC. You forget things as an adult, like the strange dynamics of middle school relationships, like the delirious tiredness that comes from hanging out with middle schoolers. The smell(s), the differences in laughter and maturity. The stress of having your cell phone surgically removed from your hand.
After collecting cell phones, we sent students into the Smithsonian Museum of African American History. Our school, like a lot of private schools, is primarily rich and white. We have been reading To Kill a Mockingbird in my class, and they have studied civil rights and slavery in US History. As a teacher, you will them to be prepared. You hope they learn something, see something, that strikes their hard adolescent heart to the quick. Most of all you hope they don’t buy those Pop-it things from the gift shop and get yelled at by a security guard.
On one of the floors, there is a large exhibit dedicated to black contributions to popular culture, including sports. My students parked there for most of the trip, fleeing from images of Emmett Till that broke them, and the realities of the Lunch Counter sit-ins where men absorbed punches and condiment assaults for the crime of seeking change. They latched on to the images of their black heroes, tracing Lebron back to the trailblazers who broke the barriers.
I love boxing, and the stories of the early super fights have always intrigued me. I bypassed the Muhammad Ali insert for the older-lesser known stories. Jack Johnson, the first black heavyweight champion, has always been one of my favorite stories. Reading about him inspires awe and the shaking of the head. Not devotion. He beat Jim Jeffries, “The Great White Hope,” to become world champion in the fight of the century. He was both defensively responsible and a credible knockout puncher, able to last into the late rounds. He was once pulled over for speeding and bribed the cop double for the trip back. He was known for marrying fast white women, for drinking and brawling and frequenting prostitutes.
His win against Jeffries started race riots across the country and laid the groundwork for widespread cultural change. He then proceeded to deny fights to black challengers in the same vein as his white predecessors, publicly refusing any morality but the sweet sciences. Even black America was divided, some disillusioned over his escapades and refusal to engage with a larger racial conversation which came with a personal risk to his lifestyle.
It would be years, in large part because of Johnson’s example, before another African American presented a credible challenge. Enter Joe Louis.
Joe Louis was a different kind of fighter, a different kind of man. Louis, “The Brown Bomber” waded into the racial struggles of the day. He worked hard, remained humble, even to the point of being taken advantage of by those close to him. He suffered his first loss to Max Schmeling, a German fighter, in 1936 by knockout in the twelfth of fifteen scheduled rounds. Hitler believed this to be proof of the superiority of the Aryan race.
Louis continued on undeterred. He won the title in 1937, and went on to rematch Max Schmeling in 1938.
At Yankee stadium, Joe Louis battered max Schmeling for all of two minutes and four seconds, knocking him out to retain the title, and proving both the capability of black athletes and the indomitable spirit of America.
He remained heavyweight champion until 1948, despite choosing to enlist to fight in World War II in 1942. He believed that the problems in America were real, but that the threat of Nazism abroad required service, even of those citizens that suffered under the racism of their home country. He went on to campaign for politicians who fought segregation, not from bitterness, but out of love for the ideals that America provided.
He was not a perfect man. He married four times, abused drugs later in his career to cover the pain of a long life boxing.
And yet, he presents an image of contrast to Jack Johnson, one of humility, service, and reliance on his own gifts and abilities to impact American society in the way he could: he knocked out the symbols of white superiority one at a time, all while championing the viability of Black experience.
One of the lessons of To Kill A Mockingbird is that each man is not singular in his identity, not innocent only, not guilty only. Atticus begins the story as a detached father, Scout as a burgeoning racist, Jem as an immature troublemaker, Calpurnia as a classist servant of white hostility. Tom Robinson is innocent, if not naïve. Neither Jack Johnson nor Joe Louis were only black boxers, only innocent.
Another lesson is that it is, in fact, a sin to kill the innocent. Atticus is not the messiah of the story; Tom Robinson is. It is a sin to destroy that part of our society that is good, that part of ourselves that is innocent.
It is a sin to squander the goodness in each of us, the ability to rise above injustice and to fight in the small ways we can.
It is a hard thing to communicate to teenagers that each of them have both in themselves. They have Jack Johnson, the incredible talent and the tendency to throw it away for the gratification of self. They have Joe Louis, the complicated mix of naivete and power. They are Bob Ewell and Tom Robinson.
And the choice is simple, and it is hard. To fight for the ideals that could keep one free, or to enslave the self in delusions of freedom. To kill the mockingbird or let it sing. (Forgive the cheesiness, but I am an English teacher.)
Today, we venture to Arlington to honor men and women who made their choice. I know what eighth graders may not. That choosing rightly now makes it easier to choose rightly later, should a time like those men lived through come to us again. God forbid.
Love this!!
Very beautifully written. Wonderful lessons. Your 8th graders are lucky to have you and you them. I’m sure they will always remember this trip. And you. My son and daughter still remember their 8th grade trip to Washington DC. It was very impactful to their middle school minds and their development. Thank you, Hampton! This made my day.