Beryl Gilroy - Black Teacher

To

my mother for all the past,

my family for their understanding while I worked on this book,

my friends who helped with shaping, correcting and typing the manuscript,

and the children who made it all possible.

B.G.

Some books always feel fresh and vital, no matter how long ago they were written, and this applies to Black Teacher (1976), a memoir full of wit, perceptiveness, humour and compassion. Beryl Gilroy takes us back in time to the fifties and sixties when, as a young woman, she wanted to fulfil her ambition of becoming a primary school teacher in England. Born in British Guiana (now Guyana) in 1924, and raised by her grandparents, Gilroy was initially home-schooled. Regular school attendance began at the age of twelve, followed by teacher training college in the capital, Georgetown, in 1945. She migrated to Britain in 1952 and much of the book covers her early teaching years in London, where she initially struggled to find work due to racism and was forced to take on jobs beneath her level of education.

Anyone who thinks Britain hasnt moved forward in terms of equality and racism needs to read this book. So many citizens of the country Gilroy encountered some seventy years ago had been brainwashed by the centuries-old saturation of racist ideology created in order to justify Britains role in the transatlantic slave trade and its colonial conquests, with a quarter of the world under British rule at the height of its empire. Its worth remembering that in the early fifties, most of Britains colonies had yet to gain their independence, either in the Caribbean, Africa, Asia or elsewhere. And here was Gilroy, a black colonial subject trying to make her way in a country whose self-perpetuated myth of its racial superiority was unashamedly thriving, alongside the belief that no matter how lowly people might be ranked in the hierarchy of British society, at least they were white, which elevated them above people of colour.

As a consequence, the level and intensity of blatant racism Gilroy encounters, from small children to adults, is shocking. As a teacher, her students mimic the bigoted nonsense picked up from their parents, but its easy to forgive them, as she does, because theyre too young to think for themselves and their childlike charm wins her over. She understands that her charges have been conditioned to consider anything that [isnt] English as downright laughable, and she cleverly challenges their preconceived notions.

The children in her schools are so vividly manifested that it feels like were in the classroom and playground with them. Voices, often written in vernacular, permeate this memoir, which is so effective in bringing to life the people in Gilroys environment, especially the voices of the white working classes. Gilroys phonetic replication of the vernacular is not generally considered wise in fiction these days, as it can make characters sound like caricatures, but it is incredibly effective in the context of this book, and the resurrection of post-war cockney reminds us how much language and culture have changed. Gilroy has a brilliant ear for dialogue; she wants the reader to hear people just as they sound. She has equally finely tuned descriptive abilities. The people she writes about are colourfully and vividly drawn with a few light, bold strokes. Its not surprising that she went on to write novels, because novelistic qualities are at play in her writing, which is teeming with life as we follow the protagonist through the battlefields of fifties and sixties Britain. We are rooting for her, urging her to overcome obstacles and witnessing her personal growth; and we are relieved when she finds love, settles and forges a groundbreaking career.

From start to finish, Gilroy maintains her composure, although she is no pushover. She is a powerfully rooted person, someone whose moral values, sense of humour, innate refinement and dignity rise above the vulgarity of the everyday discrimination hurled at her by people who see only colour and not character. Yes, she is deeply hurt by it, bewildered at first by the behaviour of the uncouth hosts in her adopted country, forced to steel herself against their missiles. A weaker person would crack under the pressure, but Gilroy has arrived in Britain as an adult, already grounded in another culture where the majority of the people are brown and where her right to belong is not questioned. Rather than doubt herself or feel diminished, she regards Britain as full of the strangest people. She discovers that even those with whom she is friendly can stick the knife in, often without realising the gravity of their offensiveness. A co-worker from one of her pre-teaching jobs who is about to move to a smarter part of London tells Gilroy not to visit her because I dont want em to see me obnobbin with nigs and such. Get it?

Gilroy says to herself, I got it, all right. Wed worked side by side for months, talking and sharing. I couldnt remember when shed last called me nig.

This book serves to remind us how hard it was for post-war immigrants to make their way in Britain when there were so many barriers put before them. However, in case Ive misled anyone into thinking this book is a misery memoir, its not that at all. Black Teacher is a fascinating and often funny read, and I relished immersing myself in Gilroys early life in this country and hearing the Windrush-era story from the perspective of a woman who actually lived through it.

Gilroy had to fight against racial and gender discrimination and expectations; her male counterparts would also have had to deal with physical aggression and violence. This book made me reflect on my own parents. My Nigerian father arrived in Britain in 1949 and had to use his fists against assailants who objected to his presence in this country, which was commonplace on the harsh front line of fifties racism. My white English mother, on the other hand, was a recent graduate of teacher training college at the same time that Gilroy was having doors slammed in her face when applying for teaching jobs. My mother literally walked into the first teaching job she applied for. Her issues were about learning how to be a good teacher, not how to find employment in a racist country, nor (once employed as a teacher) how to deal with a racist institution.

While I knew about my fathers hardships, I had never previously considered my mothers straightforward and unhindered entry into her profession until I read about Gilroys experiences. Her book really opens our eyes to the realities of fairly recent British history, and might cause us to reflect on the stories within our own families and ancestry, and the things we take for granted, or not. When my mother met and married my father and then went on to have many biracial children, she did, of course, come up against a white supremacy which disapproved of her marriage and her children.

The majority of writers who arrived on these shores in that first wave of post-war migration from the Caribbean were men, the most well known of whom is Samuel Selvon, author of