Work Text:
The early September sun filtered through the tall windows of Linicon Park Grade School, gently nudging the sleepy third-graders awake. With summer now over, everyone was adjusting to early morning routines again.
Ms. Riley Goodwin sat at the front of the classroom, comfortably positioned in her wheelchair beside her desk, several copies of The Watsons Go to Birmingham, 1963 resting in her lap. She patiently watched as the students settled in, observing each of them with a kind and attentive gaze.
“So,” she began, her voice both calm and steady enough to command their attention. “Today, I want to introduce you to a story. It’s very personal and important to me, and I hope you’ll find it meaningful too.” She held up the book to display the cover, and a few students tilted their heads in curiosity.
“This book,” she continued, “is called The Watsons Go to Birmingham, 1963. It’s about a family that takes a journey from Michigan to Alabama during a time when people were often treated unfairly because of the color of their skin.”
She paused, allowing the words to sink in. A hush fell over the room. Among the students, Derek Wilkins and Carter Long seemed particularly focused, their curiosity blending with something deeper, though they were still a bit young to fully understand.
Ms. Goodwin then set the book gently back in her lap, fingers lightly brushing its worn cover. “This story means a lot to me,” she said softly. “My grandparents were in Birmingham the day the church was bombed.”
A few students’ eyes widened, sensing the gravity of her words. Ms. Goodwin continued, her expression serious yet gentle. “They weren’t inside the church, but they saw what happened, saw the smoke and hurt people… saw what it looks like when someone is judged for the wrong reasons.”
She glanced down at her wheelchair and then looked up, her warm copper eyes meeting each student’s gaze. “When I was about your age, I was hurt by someone who didn’t like me because of my skin color. That’s why I use this chair now. And that’s part of why I chose this book, not just as a story, but as something real. I know some of you have felt judged, too.”
As her words settled over them, the classroom was quiet, each child absorbing what they’d heard. Carter Long, whose father was Chinese, and Derek Wilkins, whose mother was Black and father Hispanic, both sat especially still. The book was beginning to resonate deeply with them.
The students opened their copies and began reading, encountering the story of Kenny, a ten-year-old African American boy with a knack for describing the world around him in funny ways. They laughed at Kenny’s brother Byron getting his lips stuck to a car mirror and causing mischief, but when the Watsons traveled to Birmingham, the story grew heavier. They read about the devastating church bombing, the pain and confusion Kenny felt, and began to sense the harsh reality the book captured.
When the bell rang for recess, Carter and Derek went to their usual quiet spot by the fence, their minds still on the book. Carter leaned against the fence, looking unusually thoughtful. “That book’s… powerful.”
Derek nodded solemnly. “Yeah. The bombing was sad, but it makes you think. People hurt just because of who they are? It’s hard to understand why someone would do that.”
Carter’s voice grew emotional. “Ms. Goodwin said her grandparents were there, and she got hurt just because of her skin color. We get picked on, too. Not the same, but sometimes… like my dad. People give him looks just because he’s Chinese.”
Derek sighed, looking down. “Yeah. My mom’s been treated like that, too. Dad says things were worse before, but stuff still happens. It’s like some people just don’t get it.”
“Right!” Carter said, his frustration evident. “We read about it in history books, but it’s still real life. Like some people haven’t learned anything.”
Derek nodded, echoing Carter’s frustration. “Sometimes I get stared at, too, or teased because of my background. People judge without even knowing you.”
Carter clenched his hands. “It makes me wonder if people will ever stop judging each other. I mean, it’s still going on after all these years.”
Derek sighed, but there was a glimmer of determination in his voice. “People can change, but maybe it starts with us. Talking about it, like Ms. Goodwin did. It might help a little.”
Carter looked at him, a small smile forming. “Yeah, maybe if we all understand each other, things could get better.”
Derek smiled back. “And maybe we can talk to Ms. Goodwin about it. She’d listen, and maybe we’ll understand more, too.”
The boys sat quietly, reflecting on the power of a single story to open their eyes to new perspectives. The playground noise faded into the background as they realized that maybe, in their own small way, they could make a difference too.