A 6 Year Old Changes History

sent by the President of the United States. Were here to escort you and your daughter to school today. That's Ruby Bridges, an icon of the civil rights movement. When Ruby was six years old, she became the very first African American student to desegregate William France Elementary, an all white school in Louisiana. She was not only the first, but also the only black child attending the school, and US marshals had to escort Ruby there to make sure

she wasn't harmed by protesters along the way. No one told Ruby how monumental this moment was, and it would be years before she would put all the pieces together and fully appreciate her role in shaping the future of civil rights in America. I thought that this was an incident that just happened in my community, on my street. That's what I thought. I wasn't aware that it was so important, that it changed the face of education, and

that people around the country were familiar with it. I did not realize that my walk, my story, was a part of a much bigger family, the civil rights family, the civil rights movement. On today's show, we hear the story of how six year old Ruby Bridges changed the course of history. I'm Maya Shunker, and this is a slight change of plants, a show about who we are and who we become in the face of a big change.

Ruby Bridges was born in nineteen fifty four, the same year the US Supreme Court issued its landmark ruling in Brown Versus Board of Education. Up until that point, public schools were allowed to segregate on the basis of race, but in Brown v. Board, the Supreme Court declared segregated schools to be inherently unequal in rule that it was

unconstitutional to racially segate children in public schools. Despite this ruling, states in the South resisted the Court's order and segregation continued, but eventually a federal judge ordered the New Orleans School Board to act, and after years of resistance, they finally initiated a plan to integrate two white schools, starting with students in the first grade. Still, the board did not make it easy. They introduced a number of new requirements

just for black students. One of these requirements was an entrance exam, and nearly one hundred and forty perspective first graders took the test. A handful of them passed, and Ruby Bridges was one of them. Ruby, the NAACP shows up at your doorstep in the summer to tell your parents that you've passed this test and you're now allowed to attend William France Elementary School. I'm wondering how your

parents responded to this news. My mother was the one who really initiated this, and I think, you know, for the most part, like most moms, they want, you know, the best for their children. And not to say that my father didn't want that, but my father had just recently gotten out of the service where he fought in the Korean War, and a segregated branch of the military.

He felt like if you could be on the battlefield next to a white soldier fighting for the same country, and yet at the end of the day, if you lived, you couldn't go back to the same barracks together. Because he was black and his counterpart was white. They couldn't eat in the same mess haul together. So he felt like, why send me to this integrated school facing all of the problems that could have happened, because things wouldn't change anyway.

And that's really how he felt. But I do believe that they were very excited that I'd passed the test, and you know, your mom eventually convinces your dad, who's on the fence, right, and they do decide to enroll you in William, France that fall, and you know, I know there were delays because of increased resistance from opposition, but you do end up having an enrollment date of November fourteenth, nineteen sixty and the night before your first day,

your mom tells you that you'll be joining a new school, but she doesn't tell you much more than that. No, you know, and I grew up in an era where you know, you were seen and really not heard. I mean, we could not even be in the same room with adults when they were having grown up conversation. It wasn't like they were gonna sit me down and explain everything to me. You know. It was only on a need

to know basis. That's, you know, how they felt. So the only thing they said is Ruby, you're going to go to a new school today, and you better behave now. I do remember taking the test, you know, weeks before, but I wasn't privileged to what the test was about what all of that meant. I just knew that I

was going to be going to a new school. And like most kids, you're a little bit nervous when you have to switch schools because you're going to leave your old friends and you know, and your teacher in the school that I had just gotten used to because I was only there for kindergarten, so that was it. And also, Ruby, you better behave, And that's what I was concentrating on, is behaving. I'm wondering, Ruby, if you can bring us back to that first morning when you were getting ready

for your new school. Well, I remember that morning because I had already had a first day. I had had a first day of the year before, and yet this first day was totally different. You know, neighbors were coming over my mother's friends were coming to dress me for school, and you know, I had all these beautiful new things to where that really didn't happen when I started kindergarten, and it just seemed like the house was full of people and it was all centered around me going to school,

and so that in itself was very different. Did I feel special? Yes? I felt really special for some reason as a matter of fact, in my tiny six year old mind, remembering the test that I had taken and how excited everybody you are was about the test. I really thought that the reason why this was so different, and so many people were excited and congratulating my parents

and saying, oh my goodness, she's so smart. You know, I really felt like, okay, that test must have been so important and no other kids could pass it that now I am going from first grade straight to college. So I thought. I thought everybody was so excited because it just had never seen a six year old goes straight to college. But you know, that's the imagination of a child in the innocence that protected me during that time.

So I remember that back and forth, and then I remember the knock at the door and my parents opened the door and four very tall white men were standing at the door, and I remember they had these yellow bands on their arms, and my thought then was who were they? And not really knowing, but I remember the conversation. I remember them saying, we're us Marshals, and we've been sent by the President of the United States. We're here to escort you and your daughter to school today, And

even then it just felt so important. I remember us getting into the car with them. Two of them sat in the front seat and two in the back. My mom and I got into the car with them and we started this very art drive to my new school. And then even some of the neighbors they seemed ready to go as well, and we got in a car, we started to drive, and all of the neighbors actually walked behind the car. Wow, did the federal marshals give you instructions about what to do when you arrived at

the school? Not really me, but I overheard the conversation where they were talking to my mom about how we should get out of the car, and you know, I remember them saying this, bridges will get out first, We'll surround you in your daughter. We want you to walk straight ahead and don't look back. I remembered that I did see all of the people standing out in front

of the school when we drove up. But again, living here in New Orleans and being accustomed to mighty gras, you know something that every kid here in the city looks forward to. When I saw all of the people, and I I saw barricades, you know where the people were standing behind the barricades. I saw police officers on motorcycles and horseback. All of that actually happens during my degras, because at any given time, you could be in your car and stumbled into a parade and you have to

stay in your car and wait till the parade passes. So, you know, I say that to say that I did not feel a need to be afraid. Ruby, You're I mean, I have this visual in my head, right there's there's people protesting and screaming and rebelling against integration. And from what I understand, you know, the community knew that there would be some schools that would need to integrate that day, but they didn't know which ones, right, So the parents in this school are finding out in real time that

their children's school is the one that's being integrated. Is that right? Yes, I mean, the schools were kept secret, and so I guess what created the crowd that morning is parents showing up to bring their kids to school, but they waited outside to see if indeed it was going to be their school. And that school normally holds about five hundred kids, so you can imagine all of the parents that were waiting around out in front of the school. And so finally when I drove up, they

knew it was their school. And so the minute I was escorted inside of the building, the federal marshals escorted my mom and I straight to the principal's office and we went into the principal's office and took a seat where I was waiting to be assigned to a class. But the next thing that happened is all of those parents that had been waiting outside, they immediately rushed inside

of the building. And as I was sitting there in the office with my mom, you know, behind these glass windows, the federal marshals were standing right outside the door, so no one could actually come into the office, but they were passing the office and I could see them and they would pass the window, and then you know, a few minutes later, I would see them come back by the window and there were kids with them. So that kept happening all morning, back and forth, and I watched

that the whole day. Finally the bell rang and the principal came into the office and she said school was dismissed. You can leave. And I remember thinking, Wow, college is easy, you know, because nothing happened. And I was expecting something to happen that day, but it didn't because parents went into every classroom, they pulled out every child and they

never came back. Ruby. When you leave school on that first day and you head home with your mom with these federal marshals, what do you remember from that evening? I was excited, you know, in my mind, I didn't have a bad day that day. Or my father, I think, asked me, you know, how was your day, and I said it was, you know, it was good, and that was pretty much it. There wasn't a conversation between us.

I do remember my mom saying when she got home, she turned a television set on and she could see the whole country was actually watching what was happening. And I don't think that either one of them expected that. And I remember her saying, oh my god, what have I done. There was no way of them knowing exactly how this was going to play out. They were told to expect some opposition, and that's why the Federal marshals were there. I know they expected that, but I don't

believe they expected what she actually saw that day. On the second day of school, from what I've read, the protesting seems to intensify even more absolutely because after the first day, then the whole country knew which school it was, so people gathered forces. They were chanting and screaming and shouting all sorts of threats. I think for the most part I must have blocked that out, but definitely from photographs, from footage that I seen after the fact, they were chanting,

We're gonna hang her, We're gonna poison her. The federal marshals took those threats very seriously. As a matter of fact, I was never allowed to have lunch cafeteria because of the threats about poisoning me and my mother had to prepare my lunch and I would have to eat my lunch at my desk and not go to the cafeteria

because they were concerned about that. But yes, they were making all sorts of threats protesters carried a small box and it was actually a baby's coffin, and they put this black doll inside of the box and they would march around the school with it. And so whenever I would see the box, that's what would really frighten me more than anything. I wasn't I don't really remember being frightened of the crowd, but when I had to pass

the box, I would have nightmares about the box. And when it comes to who's going to teach you, all of the white teachers at the school, which are all the teachers at school, refused to teach you. Right, So there's a teacher from Boston, Missus Henry, who ends up being your teacher for the year. Well, teachers actually quit their jobs across the city, thinking that maybe their school was going to be integrated. You know, our guest teachers who could afford to quit their jobs or maybe switched

to other schools. They did that. The few teachers that remained in the school really did not want to have anything to do with me. Missus Henry had come from Boston because her husband was also in the military and he was stationed right outside of New Orleans. So she was looking for a teacher's position had no idea that we were about to go into this integration process, not that it mattered anything to her because she was accustomed to teaching on military basis, where you know, they were

kids of different nationalities and backgrounds. So she said that it really didn't matter to her what I looked like. I've heard her say that. She asked if it was going to be an integrated school, and she said they said yes. They didn't tell her when you get here, yes, today it will be. So I met her on the second day, and I remember when I went into the building and it was so very quiet, because you know,

everybody was gone. Yeah, you could hear pin drop when I walked up the stairs, and our footsteps echoed in the hallways. And when I got to the top of the stairs, the principal said, your classes down the hall and those federal marshalls. They turned me around and they walked me down the hall and to the classroom. When I got there, the door opened and this woman stepped out and she said, Hi, my name is missus Henry.

I'm your teacher. And I remember looking at her and thinking she's white, because I had never seen a white teacher before. I had recently come from an all black school where everybody looked like me until this very day that the law was being implemented, and not to mention. When I looked at her, you know, she looked exactly like the crowd outside. So I didn't I didn't really know how to receive her, you know, I didn't know what she was going to be like. Everyone outside seemed

really angry. But I remember her saying, you know, come in and take a seat. And as I stood there, I looked inside of the classroom and there were nothing but empty desk. So immediately I remember thinking, well, my mom has brought me to school too early, because nobody was in the building, let alone in that empty classroom. But you know, I went in and I took a seat. My mother sat in the back of the class, and missus Henry began to teach me. And right away I

liked her. She made me feel safe. I knew that she liked me just the way she behaved, and she made school fun for me. I remember leaving being excited about my first day with her, and as time went on, you know, I began to see her as just another mom, you know, my school mother, because it was always just her and I and I knew that if once I passed the crowd and got inside of the building, I knew it was going to have a great day. It was because of her. You know, she showed me her heart,

and I knew that she was different. Even though she looked like the people outside, she was different. And you know, the beauty of it all is that I made a friend at six years old that I am still friends with today. You know, she's still alive and she's still my best friend. I read that missus Henry would start each day with a hug, that she would sit side by side with you in your cozy corner of the room, and because federal marshals wouldn't let you go outside for recess,

she would get really creative in the classroom. Right, She'd move furniture around, and just the two of you would do jumping Jackson place because you couldn't do physical ed. It was just so moving to hear about the way that she embraced it's very complex role. Yes, we had our own little world in that room that was hours

safe haven. I mean you could hear them from the windows, screaming and chanting and shouting and there were days when she would turn up and said, oh, we're gonna have music today, and she turned this little music box up. But yes, everything we did we did in that classroom. I remember the very first fieldship that I had was actually seeing my school building because they would bring me out one flight of stairs every morning and down that same flight every afternoon, so I never had a chance

to see the entire school. And to you know, one day that happened and she and the federal marshals just walked me around the whole school, and that was the day that I was able to go to the cafeteria. I was excited about that. I could still smell the food cooking because they were still cooking for the other teachers or maybe for any other students that would show up.

So I would smell all the food and it would remind me of what school was like at my old school, where you know, when the bell rang, we all ran to the cafeteria and had lunch together. And this school was different because that didn't happen. It was very different. And I was constantly trying to put the pieces together to figure out why this environment was so different. And did you ever ask missus Henry directly, Hey, what's going on here? Why am I the only kid in your class? No?

And again I think that that goes back to the way I was raised. I do remember saying to her and Missus Henry, I hear kids. Because later in the year, there were some white parents who tried to cross that same picket line to bring their kids to school. The principal would take the kids and she would hide them so I would never see them and they would never see me. But every time I went into this coat closet to hang up my coat, I could hear them,

and I would mention that to missus Henry. I would say, Missus Henry, I hear kids, and Missus Henry would just ignore me. She wouldn't say anything. I later realized that Missus Henry wasn't just ignoring me. She was going to the principle and advocating for me, saying that the laws changed and kids can be together now, but you are

hiding them from Ruby. If you don't allow them to come together with Ruby, I'm gonna report you to the superintendent because the laws changed, And so they made a decision that she could take me to where the kids were, but still the kids could not come into my classroom, and you know, we were taken outside, which I was really excited about. And that only happened once or twice that year. What were your interactions like with those other kids in the short moments you had together. I remember

that the first day that happened. I remember being so excited because I spent like months searching, you know, and trying to figure all of this out, and wishing every day that kids would show up. And finally when missus Henry was allowed to take me to where they were, I was like, wow, I knew I heard kids, you know, and just excited. I didn't care what they looked like. I mean, any six year old would be excited to

now have an opportunity to make friends. But honestly, that was the day that everything came together for me because a little boy looked at me and he said, I can't play with you. My mom said not to play with you because you're a nigger. And I remember that to this very day because I remember looking at him and feeling like this weight lifted off my shoulders. And when I say wait, it was like months. I'm trying

to piece it together. I'm trying to figure out why the school is empty, Why there's no kids that show up day after day? Why can't I have lunch in the cafeteria. So in my mind the whole time, I'm trying to figure it out what's going on. And the little boy looked at me and he told me when he said, I can't play with you, my mom said not to because you're a nigger. I then realized, so that's why there's no kids here. It's about me. It's not my girl, and this isn't college. It's about me.

We'll be back in a moment with a slight change of plans. Ruby Bridges was never told why she spent every day at William France Elementary School with just her teacher, Missus Henry, and no other kids, but Ruby eventually figured it out when she was allowed to interact with a few of the white kids at the school. Ruby was called a racial slur by one of the kids, and the truth of what was really going on in her

school became clear to her. My first encounter with racism was with this little five or six year old boy. And even though he called me that name, I mean I, first of all, that wasn't my name. And second, I was accustomed to hearing that word whenever we would go back to Mississippi, where my grandparents were, and so I knew that it was about the color of my skin. And I wasn't angry with him because I didn't feel like and I don't know, for some reason, I didn't

feel like he didn't want to play with me. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, maybe it was the way he said it. I don't know, but I wasn't angry with him because I felt like he was explaining to me why he couldn't play with me. Like if my mom has said Ruby, don't play with him. He's Asian, he's Indian, he's white, he's mixed race, he's Jewish, I would not have played with him. And maybe if you asked me, I would have actually been brutally honest

and say because my mom told me not to. You have this conversation with your white classmate, and you're given clarity around why your situation at school is the way it is. As you describe that, there's a freeing quality to it because suddenly Ruby's six year old brain can make sense of it. But at the same time, it's also a horrifying realization that this is what is happening. And I'm wondering how you responded to that part. You're right.

It was bitter and sweet that moment. You're right, it was an aha moment like now I know, and then sad because he just told me that I wasn't good enough. Yeah, as if there was something wrong with me. Do you remember telling your parents that night about this conversation. No, you just kept it to yourself. Yeah. It's a lot to carry, yes, yes, that is a lot to put onto a six year old. You know, it's all the mind of a child, and how I coped with it.

It's an innocence, and I think, I mean not to downplay it, but I think so many people feel like it's so profound, it's so whatever, But it's it's just the innocence of a child. Yeah, I mean, I think I think one of the reasons it is so profound is because a situation like that almost demands the innocence of a child to make it bearable, to make it something a human being can survive. And you know what,

You're right, You're absolutely right. And that's why I think whether my parents understood it, what they were doing, or whether it was just a sign of the times that I grew up in where you didn't ask questions and that's the way my parents were raised. So they didn't try to switch things up and say, oh, now we're going to explain everything to a child. They were not raised that way and that was not the way they

raised us. So they just did things the way they normally did and felt like there's no need to tell her anything. And yet that was what saved me, that allowed me to have this coping mechanism. But you know, afterwards, the very next year, the protesters were gone. Schools were then integrated across the city. The kids came back to the school for second grade. For me, it was like my life changed all over again, because I remember, after some a vacation running back to that classroom so excited

about seeing Missus Henry. Was a new year, And the minute I got to the classroom, it was almost like somebody clapped their hands and the carriage was gone and it turned into a pumpkin, and Missus Henry wasn't standing there. The classroom did not even look like the same classroom anymore. It was a new teacher. She had put up new things in the class. It really was not my class. There were lots of kids my second grade class. There were maybe twenty twenty five kids, a few other black kids.

No one knew who I was. I was then being taught by a teacher who had refused to teach me the year before, So whenever I would it was my turn to read, she would say, that's not how you pronounced that. Take a seat. And it was because I only knew how to pronounce words the way missus Henry had taught me. She had come from Boston. She had a very strong Boston accent, so I was left with her Boston accent. So I remember not really wanting to speak in second grade. It it was over and again

nobody told me anything. And you know, there were times when I even wondered did I dream all of this? Was it real? I knew it was real, but it was like no one else really talked about it. It was over and pretty much I think the city didn't really want to talk about it or deal with it because it was sort of a black mark on them. No pun intended, but you know, the whole country watched how adults behaved in front of a six year old, So nobody really wanted to relive that. It wasn't like

my parents really wanted to talk about it. It was too hard for them, and it really kind of had them at odds with each other for a while. And even though I had all these questions and nobody seemed to really want to talk about it, it it wasn't like I could run back to school, even in third grade, fourth grade, fifth grade, six seventh. That wasn't like I could open up my history book and learn about that incident and learn about me. So how was I going

to find out about myself and this incident? And when did you find out? I was about seventeen when a reporter came to do an interview with me, and he showed me the Norman Rockwell painting And for listeners, Ruby, you're referring to the Norman Rockwall painting called The Problem We All Live With, which immortalized your first day of school and shows you as a little girl walking to

school with federal marshals surrounding you. Absolutely, he showed me the Norman Rockwell painting and said, do you know that this is you? This is you? It depicts your walk and up until that moment, I didn't think anybody remembered or cared, or that it even mattered. I thought that this was an incident that just happened in my community,

on my street. That's what I thought. I wasn't aware that it was so important, that it changed the face of education, and that people around the country were familiar with it enough for this very famous artist to paint this amazing painting about I did not realize that my walk, my story, was a part of a much bigger family, the civil rights family, the civil rights movement. I did

not realize that until that moment. Wow, just over ten years ago, you ended up celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of your first day at William France by visiting the Obama White House and sharing in this beautiful moment with President Obama when you both looked at the Norman Rockwell painting together. Do you mind sharing how that day came to be? So? I was thinking it wouldn't be cool to have of that painting hung at the White House. I started in

listening people to write letters the Norman Rockwell Museum. You know, I sit on their board. They were really excited about the idea. Missus Henry Ronan letter the governor of Massachusetts, just different people, and we wrote and said, you know, would you be willing to do this? And if any president was going to say yes, we knew it was going to be him, and he agreed, and so all of us were so thrilled. And then I did get an invitation to come and view it with him, and

that was like the icing on a cake. So we went and it was a closed meeting, only about a dozen people. So the door opens and he starts to head to warn me, and everything changed, you know the fact that I felt like I was so poised and so cool about it. Everything changed because my first thought was, you know, it's like, but missus Henry, he's black. There's a black man walking toward me and he is the President of the United States. That was just a whole

other group of feelings. And so he walked over to me, and just as my escort explained what was going to unfold, he turned and said, President Obama, this is Ruby Bridges. And so I extended my hand and I said, mister President, it is such an honor to meet you. And when I did that, he put both hands on his hips and he looked at me. He said, are you kidding me?

I'm getting a hug, and he's like threw his arms around me, and he leaned over on my shoulder and he whispered in my ear and he said, I cannot begin to tell you what an honor it is to welcome you into this White House. And when he was whispering that in my ear, my head was on his shoulder, and I looked around the room, and those twelve people that were in the room, they all started to tear

up and they were crying. And then when we went into his office and he started showing me around, and then finally there we were standing in front of the painting. He said, you know, it's fair to say that if it had not been for you, all probably wouldn't be standing here to day. And that's when it hit me that this moment wasn't really about me and him. It was about the time between us, all of the sacrifices and lives lost, all those people that died, the struggle,

the whole movement, both black and white. That's what it was. Ruby's journey is far from over. She actively travels the world sharing her story. She helps run the Ruby Bridges Foundation, which organizes a yearly walk to School day to commemorate her first steps and the movement to end racism in our communities. Ruby is also the author of several books. Her latest is a children's book called I Am Ruby Bridges. Hey,

thanks so much for listening. Join me next week when we hear from author Dan Pink on the science of regret. Dan argues that we should transform our relationship to this often misunderstood emotion. The thing about regret is that regret can clarify what we value and instruct us on how to do better. And people like that. But it comes with discomfort. It comes with some amount of pain, and people don't like that. But that's not the deal. It's

a package deal. You got to have both. And arguably I think that pain and discomfort is the source of the clarification and the instruction. A Slight Change of Plans is created written an executive produce by me Maya Schunker. The Slight Change Family includes our senior producer Tyler Greene, our producer and fact checker Emily Rosteck, our editors Kate Parkinson, Morgan and Jen Guera, and our sound engineers Ben holliday In Andrew Vastola, Louis Skara wrote our delightful theme song

and Ginger Smith helped arrange the vocals. A Slight Change of Plans is a production of Pushkin Industries, so big thanks to everyone there, and of course a very special thanks to Jimmy Lee. You can follow A Slight Change of Plans on Instagram at doctor Maya Schunker See you next week. My three nieces came over this weekend and I had the PDF of your I Am Ruby Bridges book and I was like, y'all are in for a treat. Guess who I'm interviewing on Monday. And my niece vest

were just freaked out. She was like, oh, Ruby Bridges, You're going to meet her. So anyway, I just wanted you to know it led to a lot of joy in the Schunker family. Well, thank you so much for having me, and that just lifts my spirits today, so I really appreciate it.