This is our generation. We need to take a stand," declared student Leisha Weeks to a packed auditorium at Brevard High School in North Carolina. Facing the members of the Board of Education, she pleaded, "Please listen to the students of Transylvania County. We need Mal Crite to teach us."
Weeks' compelling testimony was one of 11 offered the evening of April 5, 1993, on behalf of Marion "Mal" Crite. Crite, a young former Brevard High School and North Carolina State University star athlete, had been hired by the school superintendent six weeks earlier as home-school coordinator for "at risk" students.
One after another, pastors, parents, community leaders, counselors, and friends rose to speak on behalf of Crite's integrity and compassion for youth. Referring to his conversion to Christ following a drug conviction nine months before, they spoke of forgiveness and the grace of God. And they stated their belief that Crite's profile in Brevard--as well as the turnaround he has made in his life--uniquely positioned him to serve the students. Spontaneous applause and tears flowed in response to many of the poignant testimonies.
Only three people spoke against Crite, on the grounds that he was on probation; two had never met him. The audience sat in stunned silence as the school board voted 3-1 to fire him.
Perhaps it was not coincidence that, the day before, the nation commemorated the 25th anniversary of the assassination of civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. The firing of Mal Crite initiated in Brevard what came to be called by the local press "a mini-civil rights movement--1990s style."
And perhaps it was also not coincidence that this cry for justice erupted during Holy Week. For many Brevard residents, the week was spent between Brevard High School and Bethel "A" Baptist Church, which emerged as a center for prayer and strategizing. (And--many people were quick to point out in this solidly Tar Heel town--it was no small sign of commitment that many chose to be at the high school rather than by their TV sets when the University of North Carolina won the NCAA basketball championship that night.)
THE DAY AFTER Crite's firing, 70 black high school students and a score of their friends walked out of classes, claiming that the firing was racially motivated. School principal James Williams called Rev. Frederick Gordon, pastor of Bethel "A" Baptist Church, to the school. Gordon in turn called all the black pastors in the county and asked them to meet him there.
The student protest was peaceful. But when the pastors left the campus, Williams called in the police, who arrived in full force with several officers and a police dog. Despite what appeared to be a provocation on the part of the school administration, the students remained calm. After school hours, they moved to Bethel "A," where they were joined by a hundred parents and other concerned Brevard residents.
The students' first demand was met the next day, when school board members returned to the school at the students' insistence for an emergency meeting. Emotions were running high the afternoon of Wednesday, April 7. Passing a phalanx of police on the way into the school, Selena Robinson, a grandmother and community leader, commented, "This is unbelievable. I thought we had this settled in the '60s."
With the firing of Mal Crite as a catalyst, issues that had been simmering at the high school for years came to the surface. One by one, with a compelling display of clarity, dignity, and self-control under pressure, the students addressed the school board.
Parents and Rev. Gordon beamed with pride, but remained in the background as the students controlled the meeting.
The absence of Principal Williams was glaring. The students demanded a meeting to include him and the board the next day. Then, without a word being spoken, they moved en masse back to Bethel "A" Baptist Church for another evening of prayer and planning.
At Thursday's meeting, they presented a list of demands, including: hiring black teachers at the high school; offering a black history course; implementing strict policies regarding racial slurs and demeaning behavior by staff and students; requiring training among staff to minimize prejudice; and hiring a home-school coordinator, preferably Mal Crite. In the ensuing weeks, the adults followed the lead of the students, meeting at the church to organize themselves, adding demands, and putting into place an "implementation team" to follow through with the Board of Education.
The events that shook Brevard during Holy Week launched a sustained effort based on resurrection hope. Reflected Selena Robinson: "Stick together and you can get some things accomplished. And always keep God in front."
Mal Crite has filed a lawsuit against the school board on the grounds of discrimination. An investigation by the federal Equal Employment Opportunity Commission could take up to six months. Meanwhile, Crite is setting up a youth center with the endorsement of Bethel "A," where he is a member. When asked about getting his job back, Crite replied, "If God wants to open the door for me, then I will go through it. I think he has heard the cry of his children."
Joyce Hollyday was associate editor of Sojourners when this article appeared.
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