The many children of Georgia Polk

The only other male teacher at the school forgot to warn me; the ladies on the second floor at Stonewall Jackson Elementary never lock the staff bathroom door. They expect you to knock.

So one day I innocently opened that unlocked second floor staff bathroom door to quickly wash my hands before lunch. As I stood at the sink, I heard a rustling noise in the stall directly behind me. Someone slowly stood up. I turned around to find myself looking straight into the eyes of a beautiful Black woman, every bit as tall as me. “Why, hello there, Mr. Talley!” boomed her joyous voice. “How do you be on this bee-yoo-ti-ful day that God has made?!”

Miss Georgia Polk had that unique way about her; that way of making you feel good even when you felt bad. By the sheer force of her abundantly vibrant personality, she could somehow pull it off.

Born and reared in the Plum Creek section of Washington County VA, near Glade Spring, Georgia faced the tremendous indignation of racial segregation as a child and young person.

But Georgia never let “all that mess” deter her from teaching “what’s right.” She fought hate with love. She fought injustice with kindness. She fought ignorance with light.

For years on end, Miss Polk would drive a school bus to pick up students at their homes and take them safely to school, where she’d teach her class all day. Then she’d get behind the wheel of the bus and drive students safely back home. Along the way in her career, it seems Miss Polk never found the time to get married. “With all I got to do with my children? How am I gonna have time for that?”

Miss Polk retired the year before I began my first full-time teaching job. In fact, I took over for her in the very room where she last taught. She had “taken a likin’” to me, so she made sure I had “all the right materials to hit the ground runnin’ in the right direction.” She even gifted me her personal teaching lectern, which I used for many years before it finally fell apart. (Yes, I wish now I had repaired it.)

Miss Polk came back to visit me at the school a few times during that first year after her retirement. (A lifetime of teaching can be hard to get out of your blood right away, I can vouch.) It so happened that one day she appeared at my classroom door the very instant I was having trouble with a student. (Miss Polk would call this type of apparent coincidence a “God thing.”) She entered the doorway just as this particular student was accusing me of treating him differently because of his race.

Miss Polk’s bright eyes grew livid. “Mr. Talley, may I borrow this young man for a moment, out here in the hallway?”

When that young student returned a few moments later, he raised his hand and asked to apologize to me in front of the class. I readily accepted. Then he ran up and gave me a hug.

I never asked Miss Polk exactly what she said to this young man, but he never brought up such a false accusation again. In fact, this student and I eventually became very close and remain so to this day. Together we now fight the very real racism that exists in the world. We fight it the way Miss Polk did; with love, kindness and light.