a reflection from labor day
and an opportunity for mutual aid
On Labor Day, I found a copy of Paulo Freire’s Teachers as Cultural Workers: Letters to Those who Dare to Teach at a Goodwill not too far from my home. I’m taking that as a sign, and so we’re beginning today’s write up with an invitation: if you can, share what you have with an educator. In particular, I’m making this ask for a teacher I love so dearly —
Cat serves as a kindergarten teacher at a new public school in Detroit. Prior to Cat’s move north, she worked in Greenville County Schools. She was a first year teacher during the pandemic [insert mind-blown emoji], NEA’s Read Across America Winner in 2021 [you really do want to click and read this!], and I was lucky enough to meet her through the inaugural cohort of Teacher Fellows when we were both in upstate SC. Since then, Cat has been someone I look up to and learn from every single time we meet.
Last week she texted me, “I’m really just thinking about what it means to have a room that’s BUILT off of joy and community care.” She went on to imagine a world where networks of care between staff, families, and kids ensure all classroom communities have what they need to explore, play, and learn. All of us benefit from Cat’s labor as an educator.
Her move to a new school and a new grade level means she has several material needs that we can help with. Cat’s classroom wish list is here. If you can, could you share something with her students? Items on the list range from roughly $5 - $40, so there’s wiggle room for many budgets. If you send something to Cat, please drop a comment below.
On Labor Day, Stevie and I took a little trip to see the Roswell Mill Waterfall.
The Roswell Mill was founded by Roswell King, a notoriously cruel plantation manager, originally from Connecticut. The mill was built by the enslaved African people Roswell trafficked. The mill was built on territory stewarded by the Cherokee Nation. This land was was auctioned off by the state of Georgia, a continuation of the United States’ genocidal project of moving Native peoples westward.
Roswell’s son Barrington King later became the president of the Roswell Manufacturing Company. A historical marker Stevie & I read at the site stated, “[Barrington] took a fatherly interest in his workers. He protected them from the evils of drinking, made provisions for the instruction of their children, and supplemented their income in times of slow productions.” These wages were paid in company scrip, redeemable at King’s own stores. And the children worked from 5am til 7pm six days a week, so I’m uncertain how Mr. King was actually able to aid their education.
During the Civil War, the factory was used primarily for the production of Confederate uniforms — hence the name “Roswell Gray.” In 1864, it was seized by Union forces. At the time of capture, most employees were women and children, since the men were fighting for the Confederacy. General Sherman captured these women and children, charged them with treason, and shipped them north to Indiana. What happened to these women and children is largely unknown. Roswell Mill was rebuilt after the Civil War.
In 1926, lightening struck the mill.
The subsequent fire destroyed it.
(As you might imagine, the grounds surrounding this site of violence have become a desirable wedding venue.)
The mill’s end makes it impossible to not be reminded of James Baldwin’s conclusion,
If we – and now I mean the relatively conscious whites and the relatively conscious Blacks, who must, like lovers, insist on, or create, the consciousness of the others – do not falter in our duty now, we may be able, handful that we are, to end the racial nightmare, and achieve our country, and change the history of the world.
If we do not now dare everything, the fulfillment of that prophecy, re-created from the Bible in song by a slave, is upon us:
God gave Noah the rainbow sign, No more water, the fire next time!
“Handful that we are.” There’s power in the small number of us who believe a better world is possible. The good news: there are more of us each passing day and we can bring to birth a new world from the ashes of the old.