Seeds of Change by Sheri Stephens ’75

The Bush School experience between 1969 and 1975 was a shifting kaleidoscope of cultural, political, gender, and racial change. My own odyssey began with the fitting of a navy “Jackie Kennedy” skirt suit with a Peter Pan-collared blouse. Thankfully, there were no mandatory white gloves and pillbox hat! So many new rules, regulations, and behavior expectations to navigate: stand up for teachers and seniors, no trespassing in the senior hall or courtyard, and assigned lunchtime seating with long-suffering upper-class student monitors. Yet despite the sheltered hallways of our school, we still felt the impact of world events.

 

The academic year in 1969 began with six students of color in our entering Seventh Grade class. Subsequent class counts varied greatly thereafter, but the die was cast. Some teachers wore miniskirts, and we students were quick to roll the waistbands of our uniforms to shorten the hems. I read books about inner-city poverty and the Black Power movement and saw antiwar protests and race riots on the nightly news. Once a year, we were called to assembly to watch a documentary film on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I will never unsee the footage of flesh sloughing off the limbs of the innocent victims of war. Thankfully, sheltering students from events and history that might upset them was not the Helen Bush way.

 

Eighth Grade saw the rejection of uniforms and the proliferation of bell-bottoms, beads, headbands, and fringe in our hallways. Senior classes dropped proms and marched out to “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles on graduation day. I let my hair “go natural” and read books such as The Feminine Mystique, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, and Angela Davis. We voted to end uniforms and admit boys. I voted “yes” and remember feeling excited to participate in creating change.

 

Identity formation was sometimes challenging during these years. I found support for my creative development in Dean Warner’s English class and Nelleke Langhout’s art class. I even sold my first paintings in Langhout’s Pioneer Square gallery. The affirmation I received from many at school provided an important mental and emotional life raft.

 

In our Ninth Grade year I painted my binder in the colors of the African American flag—red, black, and green—and wore my Afro with pride. Five boys started in our class that year. How hard this must have been for the brave souls that chose to be the first boys at Bush. And yet, as an African American student, I felt pressured to assimilate to the dominant culture while also witnessing many changes occur to accommodate our new male classmates. Male teachers were hired, a new gym was built, and even the name of our school was changed. In my Tenth Grade year, I only had one female teacher. This was a significant shift in the school climate that left me, a Black girl, feeling devalued. Understanding the importance of intentionality took many years to develop. I like to think the path of equity and inclusion was set during our tenure.

 

In our senior year I continued to have allies among the faculty and staff who supported my academic strengths and empowered my creative explorations. For example, my voice was encouraged when I was selected to write a student article for the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. In Roslyn Grant’s third-year French class, I learned about Francophone countries and literature and had a memorable opportunity to join Grant in Olympia to pack care boxes for survivors of a Honduran hurricane.

 

The impact of having a diverse student body was evident in our senior year. Our class president, vice-president, and secretary were African Americans, and we marched at graduation to the music of Earth, Wind & Fire. The senior project gave us an opportunity to explore and express ourselves, and I produced my third art show. Encouragement and support from Meta O’Crotty led me to apply to Mt. Holyoke College to earn my BA in Studio Art.

 

Between 1969–1975, the processes of change sometimes swung wildly. Being a part of this era of flux helped to form my belief in women’s education and minority inclusion as well as my understanding of the importance of being intentional and adaptive. It is hard work that takes time, money, and soul searching. These years were for tilling and planting the seeds of change, a sometimes messy process. Through it all, there were faculty and staff who believed in us and empowered us to embrace change and take our place in the world.