All this has to be considered practically in terms of curriculum planning, guidance, teaching emphasis, and the like. Nothing very significant is accomplished, really, in offering physics or calculus to rural Negro boys who intend to drop out at the ninth-grade level and go to work farming or cutting pulpwood. Negro girls who realistically expect to find employment in a tobacco stemmery, a laundry, a bakery, or in domestic service have educational requirements materially different from those of their white counterparts. The impatient theoretician, unwilling even to attempt to understand a social order he so thoroughly disapproves, doubtless will be repelled by this line of reasoning. But the reasoning has a way of making sense in rural county seats.

A point is made of the exceptional Negro students. What of them? Why should a brilliant and ambitious colored youngster be held back by the relative ineptitude of his typical colored classmates? My answer is that he should not be held back, and I believe that in the course of time, this will be the answer of the South as a whole. When colored students appear who demonstrate the intellectual ability to compete at top levels with their white counterparts, I am wholly agreeable to any plan that would bring them, by transfer, to the finest high schools for miles around. Virginia has just such a program slowly formulating in its plan of “Freedom of Choice.” But I would suggest that one consequence of such transfers of exceptional children, in the foreseeable future, would be to deny the slower Negro pupils the example and stimulation of superior students of their own race. The tendency would be further to reduce the achievement levels of the colored schools as such. But I would leave such decisions to the pupils and their parents themselves.

I have attempted to set forth two practical objections to school desegregation in the South, and especially in the rural South—first, the demonstrably lower levels of aptitude and achievement on the Negro’s part, and second, the demonstrably different opportunities and occupations for which most colored pupils realistically must prepare themselves. A third difficulty involves the teaching staffs. The massive desegregation of Southern schools predictably would have a catastrophic effect upon the thousands of Negro men and women who now enjoy, within their race, relatively high status and relatively good incomes as public school teachers. In many areas of the South, as I have said, attitudes are changing and softening, as white parents discover there is a level of token desegregation that is not intolerable to them. This tendency, I feel certain, will increase year by year. But I cannot yet foresee the day, in the greatest part of the South, when white parents by and large will accept Negro teachers and Negro principals over their children. This would demand one more subtle and unwelcome shifting of gears; it would carry the social revolution beyond the point of an uneasy “equality” of pupils in a classroom, and would make the white child subject to Negro masters. The efforts of a Federal court to compel employment of Negro teachers who would preside over heavily “mixed” classrooms would be bitterly resented, and the resentment would manifest itself in wholesale withdrawals and school abandonments. I venture the flat prediction, on the basis of personal conversations with white families who have moved out of Washington, that this difficulty would be seen as a last-straw condition. But the alternative to the employment of Negro teachers in massively desegregated schools is to discharge the Negro teachers and to replace them with white teachers. This would be cruelly unfair; but in any unhappy election between preserving the jobs of some Negro schoolteachers and preserving a local school system itself (which involves preservation of the good will of white parents and taxpayers), the jobs will go.

This line of discussion brings us to a fourth practical difficulty that would accompany massive desegregation in the South: the predictable difficulty in employing white teachers for racially mixed classrooms. New York, Philadelphia, and Washington have run into this constantly. Dr. Hansen has disclosed in the Teachers’ College Record (October 1960) that Washington’s school system employed 579 temporary teachers in 1954-55. By 1959-60, this number had grown to 1250. “It is difficult,” he concedes, “to find white teachers psychologically prepared to take jobs in predominantly Negro schools, with the result that the source of applicants tends to become more and more restricted.” And if Washington has this problem, with the high salaries and fringe benefits and physical facilities and cultural amenities it can offer a prospective teacher, what may we reasonably expect at the branch-heads?

One of the problems in this area, acknowledged even by Otto Klineberg, is the language barrier that so often baffles a white teacher in attempting to communicate effectively with a Negro child. “Obviously the Southern Negro speaks English,” says Klineberg in Characteristics of the American Negro, “but equally obviously, his English is not similar to, or the equal of, the English spoken by the average white.” Many other observers have made the same point. The Negro inflection, pronunciation, word-choice, and accent are quite different; and in the case of the South Carolina gullah, these characteristics make speech almost incomprehensible. White teachers, with jobs widely available to them, simply would rather not get involved in this.

These teachers have other objections, too. As the record of hearings before a House subcommittee in 1956 makes vividly clear, many white teachers are simply appalled by the sexual mores and the violent attitudes of some of the Negro pupils in desegregated schools. One witness after another appeared before the committee to testify to the inordinate amount of time that had to be spent simply in maintaining discipline. Adolescent sex urges, volatile enough under any circumstances, are further complicated by the novelties and tensions of intimate interracial association in halls and classrooms and toilets. Philadelphians still recall grimly the incident at Shaw Junior High School in 1956, when a Negro gang gathered outside the school to insult and annoy pupils as they left the building. Three teachers who came out to remonstrate were attacked and severely beaten. The white principal of another Philadelphia school, who had watched the deterioration of his school from an “honors” institution of high scholarship into a second-rate vocational factory, was quoted in U. S. News in 1958: “Many of these youngsters are not adequately motivated for learning. They have no home to speak of, nothing to encourage them once they leave the school grounds. They’re here simply to occupy their time until they’re old enough to go out and get a job—if they can find a job.”

These are among the arguments of practicality the Southerner would advance against compulsory desegregation of his public schools. He is not prepared to chop logic, or to engage in casuistic debate on the why of the world that he lives in. He knows that with the best will in the world—and in his fashion, he more often than not has great good will for the Negroes of his community—he cannot quickly elevate the Negro’s home environment appreciably. Overnight he cannot put books and magazines in Negro living rooms; he cannot inject generations of cultural background with some magic hypodermic needle; he cannot deliver to the Negro, as he would loan him a hoe or give him an overcoat, the social graces, the community of experience, the heritage of generations, the accumulation of business, professional, and civic understanding that necessarily must figure in the educative process. Time presses, and the school bell rings, and on April mornings the honk of the school bus, like the voice of the turtle, is abroad in the land. He has to do what he conceives to be best for his child now, to prepare that child for the society he predictably will live in tomorrow. And he does not accept the idea that racially mixed classrooms, over a long period of years, in the context of the only society he knows, will provide a workable, desirable, or pleasant experience for sons and daughters who are dear to him. Maybe, he says doubtfully, maybe some time in the future....

IX

If there ever is to be in the South any significant degree of desegregation in public institutions, let alone any significant degree of integration in society as a whole, it can come effectively in one way only: slowly, cautiously, voluntarily, “some time in the future.” This is the doctrine of “gradualism,” and the Negro’s professional leaders despise it. They insist, with some plausibility, that constitutional rights are personal and immediate rights, capable of being lost irretrievably if they are not exercised at once; and now that new constitutional rights have been created and defined, they ask, why is the realization of these rights coming so slowly? “How long do you expect us to wait?” they demand. “It is almost a hundred years since slavery now.” They do not want to be gradual; they want to be integrated.

To these impatient appeals, the South makes a number of responses, none of them pleasing to the militant Negro leadership. But the responses make sense nonetheless. The answers add up to this: The Negro is plunging forward now in a movement that is at once both revolutionary and evolutionary. All of man’s history suggests that while revolutionary changes may be hurried and pushed along by processes of forced growth, the changes that result from evolution can never be hurried at all. They will come at their own speed, and their own speed is glacial.