Dreaming of College: Her Civil Rights Story

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I started to think about college when I was starting 12th grade in St. Mary’s County.  I thought about it, dreamed about it, but had no idea how I’d go.  Mrs. Fleming, my French teacher at Carver (A Black high school), discovered that I did want to go to school but we didn’t have any money for it, and she went home and did some homework about places I could attend.  She found out that St. Mary’s College was a state-supported school.  Up until 1962, we all in the community thought that it was a private school.

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Mrs. Fleming came to me and said, “Why don’t you go to St. Mary’s?” and she procured an application.  Some of the information we left off . . .the race part.  When I got the acceptance letter we had to go down to the College for an initial meeting.  We walked in, Mrs. Fleming and Mrs. Gaskin with me, and there were people sitting around a table. . . . It was a surprise!

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Once it became known that I was accepted there was support from the black community.  Mrs. Gaskin was a big support to my family and me.  Mrs. Fleming used to check my assignments and papers to be sure I was doing them well.  I was being watched; I was in a fishbowl.  “Is she going to make it?”  “Will there be a riot?”

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Mrs. Fleming told me later that my parents were threatened.  “You just don’t know!  We couldn’t let you know that.”

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I didn’t sleep one bit the night before that first day.  My dad drove me there in his pick-up.  He was scared for me.  I knew no one.  I had a “Big Sister” though.  Of course she didn’t have any trouble finding me.  At least I had that one contact.  Walking the campus, no one comes up to speak to you, it’s kind of tough.  And it’s lonely.

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Some of the professors were kind to me.  But there were incidents.  Once, when the professor stepped out of the class, some paper was thrown, a few books were thrown past me.  And once my books were knocked out of my hands.

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At graduation, we were sitting on stage, and when I walked up to get my diploma, someone removed my chair.  Maybe several people had helped remove it. Perhaps they were trying to tell me that I had worn out my welcome.  I remained standing as everyone took their seats until finally someone found a chair and several students helped pass it up to me.

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I will say that the exposure I got there was very good.  I got to participate in activities that I had never had access to – field hockey, cultural arts, concerts.  It made me want to have more.  It also made me realize that I had a right to have more and should have had it all along.  It made me decide that, hey, I’m going to get more, and I’m going to tell what I know and I’m going to share what I learned.

I had opened a door, cracked the ice.  And if other minorities were going to come here, I had to see that that door stayed open.

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