While at William and Mary I toted my pawn shop guitar across the tracks to the segregated primary school and entertained the kids in a crowded third grade class once a week.
Their faces lit up with the music: they clapped, sang, even danced. Often they surrounded me, feeling my soft long hair, patting my light skin. Their responses remained in my heart as I crossed back over the tracks and returned to the insular world of a college coed.
This was my first experience with segregated schools. I literally walked across the railroad tracks and then through a dark, urine-stenched tunnel marked with graffiti to get to this school. It was 1968 in southeastern Virginia.
Have you been influenced by any similar experience? Please share.