STATEMENT XXXII
My name is Djavan Thomas. My childhood nickname was Dj, which is what I’m more likely to be recognized by in New Rochelle. I graduated in NRHS class of 2011. After graduation, I left for Edinburgh, Scotland to continue my educational career outside of the United States. I am now 25, and hold two Master’s degrees, the first in History and the second in International Development. I am still living outside of the country. I often say that my educational accomplishments are in spite of, and not due to, my upbringing in the New Rochelle school system.
New Rochelle is the perfect example of the northern style of classism and racism. I was one of very few black kids who attended Albert Leonard; I was not a lottery winner, but lived in the Bayberry neighborhood close to the school. Access to education was always integral to my mother, and she moved us into this neighborhood with the intention of giving us resources that she did not have as a child. Keep in mind, that while this was in 2002, we were the only black family in the neighborhood. Our presence in the neighborhood was viewed as threat; we had the cops constantly called on us (once for having grass that was too long, another for being “too loud”) and dealt with open hostility by some neighbors. We were often asked to leave the neighborhood pool club, even as card carrying members. Our presence in this affluent area of the North End was met with such hostility, and there’s a reason why I’m mentioning this. In New Rochelle, everyone knows that your zip code is a key determinant your life trajectory, as it determines the quality of education you will get. My mother brought us to that neighborhood so we could have access to what the white kids had access to, and their parents hated that. As in my life outside of school, in the educational system of New Rochelle, my black presence in places that were constructed to be exclusively white was met with open hostility from white teachers and school administrators. There are a couple themes that I will touch on while recounting some moments from my time in New Rochelle- the constant presumed guilt and over-punishment of black and latino children, and the general disinterest in developing the minds and careers of children of color in the school system.
In my experience in growing up in New Rochelle, to be young and black was to be guilty.
The first time I experienced this is was 9, at Ward. My friend and I were both talking in class, and got T.O. from the teacher. Both of us were, to lightly put it, huge nerds. We bonded over our voracious love of books, and more often than not, chose to sit and read inside during lunch periods instead of being outside. We got the same grades - it was always either her or me that would score highest in tests, and were (almost) always well-behaved. So we both get T.O., a complete unknown to us, and meet outside of the class right before lunch to gather our wits about us before going to great unknown that was time out. My teacher is outside of the classroom, and the school’s librarian, a friend of my teacher, comes up to us. I had always liked the library classes, as I enjoyed the times we were allowed to read fictional books - so I liked the librarian quite a bit. Our teacher told the librarian that my friend and I were off to TO. The librarian coos at my friend, “I don’t understand how someone as sweet as you would get TO!”, but then as she looks at me, her tone changes. “You”, she says sneeringly, “I get why you’re going.” Eighteen years after this happened, and I’ll never forget the sinking sensation of shame and doubt that I felt when I was hit by the coldness of her gaze and words. ‘Doesn’t she recognize me?’ I thought. ‘Why do I deserve this punishment and my friend doesn’t? What’s wrong with me?’ It took me until I was 18 to realize what had happened, but I’m not exaggerating when I say that I spent so many hours trying to figure out why - what the difference was between me and my friend. We were the same in behavior, in grades, extracurriculars, and everything - except our skin tone. I didn’t get why the librarian assumed my guilt more, or why my 4th grade teacher a few weeks later scoffed when my friend said that I should join the kaleidoscope program. No one is going to tell a child that what happened was racism, pure and simple. If there are any white people involved in the New Rochelle educational system reading this, you will probably race through alternative reasons for why that happened without resorting to race - but trust me, I tried to for years to give these women the benefit of the doubt but there was genuinely no other reason. I thought that I was a bad kid because an authority figure said so, and I didn’t know why. Eventually I began to internalize that.
It was just a matter of life in the school system that black and latino kids had separate classes then the white kids. As the only black kid in a lot of my classes, I was often met with an inexplicable disinterest, even disdain, from my white teachers and guidance counselors throughout my time in New Rochelle. By the time I was finishing up in high school, I was incredibly disillusioned and angry without knowing why. In middle school, I was punished more than my white friends when we got in trouble together for doing the same things. In high school, teachers seemed determined to let me “slip through the cracks” of the system. My AP Euro teacher had to personally advocate for me to get my teachers to write college recommendations, when my white peers had fewer issues. I had almost no black friends because I was surrounded by white people constantly; it became a running joke amongst my classmates that I “wasn’t really black” because I spoke well and got good grades. The worst part was they meant it as a compliment. To them, black kids were meant to be in the “regular” classes; this concept was never questioned by anyone. Even where we had lunch was segregated, with the white kids in the new wing and the kids of color in the older part of the school.
I dreaded going to my guidance counselor, as I felt hostility radiating off of her every time we talked about the classes I wanted to take and college admissions. I remember clearly asking her for help about applying to international schools, and - with google open on the internet browser on the computer next to her - she blankly told me she couldn’t help me at all. I then remember one of my white friends going on and on about how helpful the counselor was with her college applications, and then wondering why she received a completely different level of engagement from her. I wasn’t the only black kid who felt this hostility. The system kept undervaluing me and other children and making them feel like we were less than our white peers; do you really expect us to keep on fighting for teacher’s acceptance? Especially since we weren’t given the language to diagnose what was happening to us, disinterest in education inevitably sets in. I went from a straight A student as a pre-teen to a truant by 16. Except for history and music classes, I was incredibly disinterested in participating in school because I was treated as less by the white authority figures in my life. Thankfully, because of my SATII and AP scores in history (as well as the more realistic nature of college applications outside of the US), I was accepted into an amazing university and left the country one week shy of my 18th birthday. It’s been almost a decade since I left the US, and I don’t want to return, as I’m hesitant to raise children in the environment I grew up in, where they are viewed as less because of their skin tone.
If the system is anything similar to what it was like for me growing up, then New Rochelle is currently failing their black and latino students. Segregation is hidden by tracking “gifted and talented kids” and limiting access to honors and AP classes. Segregation is hidden by an unfair allocation of resources based on your zip code, reinforced by historical redlining. Segregation is having the army recruiters come to the primarily black and brown classrooms, yet never showing face in the AP/Honors classes. The education system in New Rochelle is segregated, and the board of education owes it to the children of New Rochelle to end it today.
Djavan Thomas
NRHS Class of 2011