The lesson popularized by Michelle, "When they go low, we go high."

Contributed By:Dorothy Nevils

I remember going to school in Mounds, Illinois, a little town that straddled Highway 51, about a dozen miles from where the Ohio River empties into the Big Muddy. You passed it if you drove to Mississippi or Memphis back in the early sixties, but you probably didn't notice.

That place had a big impact on me, however, mostly because of the teachers. There were only six of them in our high school, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for us. We were used to having less of most things (although I have no idea how things were on the other side of the highway… probably about the same).

What I remember is their message, and itwas this: You have to be better. Good was never good enough. Equal fell short. We had to excel. That was the message drummed into our skulls, and some of us listened.

Whether it was playing the sax, writing, or solving a physics problem, I was expected to outdo any other student in Mounds – and beyond.

That wasn't a real challenge because it paralleled my father's expectations of his children, if not academically, then certainly ethically. With Daddy as an example, our reputation for honesty was so solid that nobody could sell a story of our “lifting” somebody's anything to anybody who knew us.

Shortly after coming to Gary, I bought a Ford XL. Sharp! I went to the license bureau on 5th Avenue to get an Indiana license, and had to take a test, of course. I finished rather quickly and took my test sheet to the counter where a woman graded it. Then she gave me some startling news: I had failed! That caught me by surprise. Illinois test had been much more difficult!

She looked at me, sympathy pouring from the face that could have been my mother's. She started to offer me a solution that involved a small sum, but really, I wasn’t listening. Naiveté must have been written across my forehead – this was before accent marks gained popularity in naming babies. Thinking me stupid as well, she held the paper in plain sight.

Leaning over, I pointed, “That one's right... and that one…” I pointed. “That one …”

Her face sagged, and she took the paper and gave me a license.

It never occurred to me to report this, my first experience with corruption. The experience was unsettling, especially given that she was a woman of color. I wasn't accustomed to blacks holding power over another's privileges – except for the state cop that all the girls swooned over. In those days, uniforms were “female magnets.”

I guess what was so disheartening was the woman's departure from what had been impressed upon us by those teachers back in the country, the need to rise higher than our counterparts… the lesson popularized by Michelle, “When they go low, we go high,” especially given the times, the late 60s when the “souls of Black folks” had suffered so much to challenge heights so many had died trying to reach. This lesson was even more crucial at a time in history when racial equality was tottering on infant legs. Add to that a so recent and firsthand experience of maltreatment, and the urgency of ethical behavior, even now, fairly stands and shouts at us.

My teachers and my father instilled in me one message, and it has been the rest of my life my personal motto: So carry yourself that there is not even the slightest hint of impropriety.

Story Posted:01/14/2017