The Junior Docents

The original owner of the historic house, John Jay French, had a land grant in 1836, from Mexico. He came to settle in Texas but when he got to Louisiana in 1836, the Texas Revolution had started, forcing him and his family to stay in Louisiana to wait out the revolution.    When they got to his land in Texas, in 1845, he built the first planed wood house in Southeast Texas.  John Jay French was opposed to slavery, being from Connecticut.  While in Louisiana he bought a black slave family. When they got to Texas he told them they were free and could leave if they wanted.  If they stayed, however, he would build them a house, provide them with jobs, an income and educate their children.  They stayed and lived as freedmen.

I was the Curator of Education for the museum.  We had successful programs for second, fourth and seventh grade. 
It was in the fall when the curriculum director of the school district contacted me for a meeting. The high school had a program where high school students got Fridays out of class.  They could either use that day to work, if they had a job, or they could volunteer at a hospital, museum or charity.  She wanted to know if our museum would be interested in participating.  I told her yes.

The idea sounded great to me since the historic house tours with the seventh graders occured on Fridays.  We were always in need extra docents on Fridays, which was a hard day to get docents.  I suggested to her that we start a Junior Docent program, training the high school students to give tours of the historic house.  The seventh graders might be more inclined to listen since their “peers,” instead of old ladies, were leading the tours.  The curriculum director liked the idea too.

The high school teachers started the screening process for students who might be a good match for the museum.....I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.  I went to the high school, spoke with several classes and promoted the idea.  There was not much enthusiasm, except for the idea of getting out of class.  Most of the college bound students had their schedules filled with  AP classes and were not participating in the program which narrowed our field of students down considerably.  The students volunteered or were chosen. The day came for my students to arrive.  I had been given a brief outline of each of the student’s  backgrounds.  They were all juniors and seniors.


George had a terrbile stuttering problem.  He had been in  speech classes but had never  been in one school for more than a year so the problem had never had time to be properly addressed.  He would shyly smile and nod when spoken to.  He was the only child of a single mother and very poor.

Toni.  Her mother and 21 year old sister were both prostitutes.  They all lived with her mother’s pimp who routinely abused the kids.  She was in and out of CPS custody and foster care.  She had been in a 7th grade summer camp program several years before at our museum when CPS came and took custody of her.

Johnny was from a very poor but very stable home. He was happy and enthusiastic about everything.  He was also very protective of Toni. 

Mike.  His mother had other children with another father....Mike’s father was in prison and he never saw him.  He always told us his father was rich and was going to come and get him and take him home with him. Every girl he liked, he told her he was going to marry her.   He constantly talked about wanting to get married, because “Then someone would love me”.

Bethany  was from a stable middle class home.  
she was an excellent student, and had a scholarship from Baylor.

Ashia. From a stable, upper middle class, protective but very biased home.  She had to have off every Wednesday to go to the meetings of the radical organization her family participated in.  Her mother wanted to get her from the museum as soon as she was dropped off because it was a “White Ladies Club”.  I told her mother that Ashia had to stay at least two hours every time she came or I had to report it to the school which would mean she was out of the program.  Her mother was furious, but let her stay two of the four hours every Friday.

(The museum volunteer group was in no way exclusive. I spoke to several racially diverse study clubs to recruit docents for the museum, but no one was interested. We worked diligently to have volunteers from all parts of the community.  ) 

The bus arrived with my group of Junior docents.  I introduced myself and the staff.  We all stood there staring at each other like deer in the headlights.  We proceeded to the historic house.  I told them while I was giving the tour to be thinking about what part of the tour they would like to be responsible for giving.  When the tour was over they each claimed their part of the tour.  Johnny wanted to be trained as a blacksmith, Mike wanted to do the upstairs of the house, Toni wanted to assist in the blacksmith shop. Bethany wanted the parlour of the house. Ashia wanted to do the downstairs bedrooms of the house. And finally the master bedroom was claimed by George.  It was the room with the most artifacts, and also the room where the rope bed was explained in detail. I felt very sure about everyone’s choices except for George.  I had never heard him speak a single word except for "Master bedroom.”  

In the weeks that followed we worked on giving tours, looking at the audience and talking clearly and plainly.  George had yet to say a word.  He just held his notes and read them over and over to himself.  Our Blacksmith had set aside several Friday mornings to be at the museum to train Johnny and Teresa.  They both seemed to come alive.  They loved working in the shop, making nails to give away to each class after the demonstration.  All was going very well.

One morning there had been a cold front blow through.  When the kids showed up, all were dressed warmly for the 40 degree, 100% humidity weather, except for Toni.  She was in a thin voile blouse and shivering. She told me she wasn’t cold and would be comfortable once they got the fire going in the blacksmith shop.  I was worried about her and checked on her several times, offering her the extra jacket I kept in my car, but she refused. The next week it was cold and raining.  She was coughing and looked sick.  Her hair had been chopped off on one side all the way to the scalp.  She told me it was a new hairdo and she liked it.  

Later that day I heard Bethany say that Toni's mother’s boyfriend had beat her up and cut off that one side of her hair.  I had thought she was sick from being out in the cold with no coat.  I asked Toni to come into my office to talk.  I asked if I could buy her a coat.  She told me, “I would like that but, when I go to sleep someone would come in my bedroom and tear it off of me in my sleep.  Everything I get someone steals.  My mother is a prostitute and so is my sister, but I am not supposed to tell anyone that.  My sister had three kids and I have to babysit them all night while she works and then get them to daycare before school.  I am always late to school so the teachers think I don’t try hard.”  Her voice never wavered but tears started to roll down her face.  "I want to be something good, I want to make good grades and go to college.  A teacher told me I could go to college free if I had good grades.”  By now she was wiping away tears leaving streaks on her face through the blacksmithing ash.  I looked up to see one of our board members standing in the door. After Toni left Mrs. Banks told me we had to do something about her situation.  

In the meantime the day for our dress rehearsal for the tours had come.  The first room on the tour was the one George was doing.  I stepped into the room.  He looked at me, hesitated, took a deep breath....and from his mouth came the most beautiful deep baritone voice.  Loud and clear he sounded like James Earl Jones, explaining every detail of the room in the most perfect way.  I was so thrilled.  I wanted to hug him, but instead told him what an incredible job he had done.  He smiled shyly, saying nothing and dropping his head.  I told him to hold his head high and be proud of how well he had done...and for the first time he smiled broadly and said, “Thank you Mrs. Hayes.”  All of the students did exceptional jobs.  When the seventh graders arrived, they listened more carefully than they had ever done for us “Old ladies.”  The tours continued each Friday all spring.

As the time passed I got to know each student and their needs.  Mike was always the last one to leave.  He just knew each week that his mother would come and pick him up....and each week he would finally leave to walk home.  One week I had stayed until 4 PM  at the musem to get ready for a Saturday event.  The students had all left by 3 PM.  As I was drivng home, I passed a boy that looked familiar...as I glanced in the rear view mirror I noticed it was Mike.  I turned around and stopped.  “I thought you went home?”  
"My mom never came, I am just walking home."  I found out he lived about 10 miles from the museum.  I told him to get in the car and I would take him home.  When we got to his house, it was an old battered mobile home badly in need of repair.  The front door was standing open.  He thanked me for the ride.  As he walked in I could hear someone yelling at him.  He turned and closed the door....waving bye with the saddest look on his face I had ever seen.

Bethany was writing her essays for college admissions. Each week she would have something else for me to read.  All were very good and impressive.  She said her mom had been giving her pointers.  She was a highly motivated young lady. 

Ashia, although enjoying her time at the museum, finally came in one day and told me that her mother had taken her out  of the program starting next week.  He mother didn’t want her to have so much exposure to the “White Ladies Club.”  In the meantime  Mike had gotten expelled completely from school for telling someone he was going to kill them. He stopped by the museum to tell me goodbye.  He said the other boy had told him, “You father doesn’t want you.” His reaciton was wrong, but I couldn’t say that I blamed him for it, my heart broke for him.  He had seemed to find a place he belonged for the first time at the museum.  The police came by a few minutes later telling me to never let him on the museum grounds again......

In the meantime Mrs.Banks had decided to buy a jacket for Toni.  She found a STARTER jacket that was an anorak style with a short zipper that went only about 9 inches down from the neck.  Toni was thrilled because no one could take it off of her while she slept.   

I called her come into my office to explain how important it was to write Mrs. Banks a thank you note.  She had never written one, except in school for an assignment.  She didn’t know anyone really did that. In her own words she wrote,  

“Thank  you for giving me a jacket.  I like being warm. I like the jacket because no one can steal it when I sleep.  Your friend, Toni”.

At 2 am one morning the phone rang.  I woke up angry thinking it was one of my teenager’s friends, but it was Toni.  She was panicked.  She said her mother’s boyfriend  was going to rape her.  I told her to hide and watch out the window, someone would be by to get her.  I had no idea what to do, so I called Mrs. Banks.  Her son was a police officer. She told me she and her son would go and get Toni.  When they drove up in front of the house, Toni climbed out of the window and ran to the car, with her backpack full of all her worldly possions, wearing her jacket.  She spent the night at Mrs. Banks house that night.  CPS was there bright and early to take custody of her.  As she left, she said, “Mrs. Banks, I will call you when no one wants me again.”

The semester had come to an end.  I planned a pizza party for the kids.  Johnny, Bethany, Toni and George were all that were left.  I told them I was moving away so that if they did the program next fall, there would be a new Curator of Education.  I had bought a small souvenir from the museum store for each of them.  I had just gotten a computer and had internet for the first time, so I gave them each my email address.  I had them make out a postcard to themselves so I could write to them that summer.  I felt so sad leaving them...it seemed like my project had only just  begun.

Later in the summer I was updated on the kids:

• George had moved....no one knew what happened to him.
• Johnny had signed up for the program for the next year. Since he could now drive, he had signed up to work as a regular volunteer in the blacksmith's shop at the museum.
• Bethany had gotten her scholarship was was heading to Baylor University in the fall.
• Ashia was going off to Grambling University.
• Toni had been removed from her home and put in foster care in another town.  The people who had taken her had lost their daughter several years before, in an accident.  She had become the center of their lives.  She was still adjusting to have rules and the way a real family worked.  She told Mrs. Banks, " I finally feel really safe."
• Mike had commited suicide....leaving a note that said, “All I wanted was someone to love me.*

The Junior Docents opened my heart and changed me forever.  I sent out the postcards but most were returned....I lost touch with everyone.  I hope that something I did, or said changed their lives in a positive way......
like they changed mine.

*All of the names have been changed except for mine.

SEARS Miss Revolving Charge 1970

Little Becky was the youngest of eight children.  With three “Beckies" on our hall we had designated them by size.  One was very tall, Tall Becky, one was very skinny, Skinny Becky and the third was very short.  At about four foot ten inches, she had the personality of a girl ten feet tall. When she spoke, it was with authority, no one questioned her.   Although only a  college freshman, as were we all, she seemed to have a knowledge of how living in the dorm worked.  She had taken control of the sixth floor of Stangel Hall.  The  rest of us were fumbling our way through this new way of life but Little Becky somehow had it all figured out.

Little Becky was the only one on our hallway with a car.  Her resources being limited, she had figured out how to make that work as well.  While the rest of us were dreaming of owning a new or even a used Mustang, Little Becky was perfectly content with her pink 1958 Mercury.  It was a long as a city block and almost as wide.  Nine girls fit in it a bit crowded and eight fit perfectly.  With gasoline around twenty cents a gallon, five dollars would easily fill the tank.  Since none of us knew each other, we were thrilled when she generously offered to take us places.  One day I got a package in the mail from my mom.  It was a cute Bobbie Brooks wool pants outfit with the money to buy some shoes to go with it.   I asked Little Becky to let me know the next time she was going to the malls on 50th Street.  That weekend we planned a shopping trip.  About six of us decided to go.  As we piled into the car, I generously asked her if she needed gasoline to which she replied, “Nope I have a full tank.”  I thought nothing else of it.  We spent the day shopping, I bought my shoes and when everyone was thoroughly exhausted and ready to go home we called Little Becky from a phone booth. She met us a thirty minutes later at the Dairy Queen across the street.  

As we got into the car she said, “Well since I have spent the day running all of you around, it will be $1 each.  We were somewhat surprised since we had offered to buy gasoline when we left that morning.  Each of us forked over a dollar…..six dollars total for gasoline.  We learned that day that every time Little Becky gave us a ride anywhere it would cost us a dollar.  I started walking.

Little Becky  sold Tupperware, Fuller Brushes and Avon.  Fortunately my allowance covered my needs and those things were not among them.  Then one day, she started asking us all to come to Sears, she had a job there and needed our support.  We carefully inquired as to what it would cost us and to our surprise she said nothing.  Several of us rode the campus bus to the Sears store.  

When we walked into the main entrance of the store, there stood Little Becky. Her silky, smooth blonde hair was held back by a sparkly headband with her soft curls resting on her shoulders. She was wearing a dressy dress and heels, with a matching sparkly beauty pageant type banner across her chest that said, “SEARS, Miss Revolving Charge”.  I wanted to double over in hysterical laughter.  

Once again as in everything she did, she was in charge and deadly serious.  She approached us, handing us a charge account application.  Never breaking her professional demeanor, pointed us to some tables with pens and chairs.  A lady was sitting there to assist us with our applications.  None of us had jobs.  We were all college kids, with our parents paying our way.  However we dutifully filled out the application for fear of Little Becky’s wrath.

The application process did not stop there. When Little Becky arrived back at the dorm that night, she proceeded to hand out applications to everyone on the sixth floor.  Then she went floor by floor to all seven floors handing out applications, one floor a day for a week, until five hundred applications had been given out. 

The next week she continued by knocking on every door in our dorm to retrieve said credit applications, completed and ready to be turned in.  Those who had not filled out the applications, she greeted pen in hand, ready to assist, and witness their signature.  She continued knocking on doors until she had gotten back almost every application. There was not a single person in Stangel Hall that she had not talked to personally about their Sear Revolving Charge application.  

There were about 12 of us on the sixth floor who ate together every day at noon.  We would wait by the dorm office for Elaine, who worked in the office putting out the mail.  Little Becky had been so persistent with her credit applications that while waiting for Elaine for lunch, people we knew from other floors would look at us sympathetically and whisper, “You live on the same hall as her?”  We would nod our heads, they would shake theirs in sorrow.

A couple of weeks later we were waiting for Elaine before lunch. They had already been serving for 20 minutes when we finally went to the office to see what was taking Elaine so long.  It seems  hundreds letters from Sears had arrived.…..the responses to Becky’s SEARS Revolving Charge applications.  Elaine didn’t join us for lunch for the next three days.  

Good job Little Becky.  I lost touch with Little Becky after college....but I bet she is the CEO of some business, no doubt!!