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Farmington is a town like hundreds of others in middle America whose traditions have weathered well. It is the kind of town whose people feel that they "work hard and play by the rules." They are religious, law abiding people with a better than average record of civility, tolerance and generosity. The town's people are very patriotic. They celebrate the 4th of July in grand style including a full dress parade down main street. As far as anyone can remember, the parade and even the decorations for "the fourth" have remained unchanged for half a century. The only change in the parade route is that it no longer begins and ends at the old railroad station. For the last twenty years, the parade has assembled in a shopping mall on one side of town and ends in the sprawling parking lot of a chain supermarket near the opposite end. Some residents still complain about this change. All in all, Farmington is a classic American small city where the values of yesterday are cherished and respected and where many members of multiracial, multiethnic groups have accepted the same values. The crime rate is low and the two largest minority groups, Hispanics and African Americans, participate fully in the life of the city. (An African American and a Hispanic have been recently elected to the school board.) While the white citizens are a large majority, most minority citizens claim they are neither chauvinistic nor prejudiced and that their patriotic zeal, family values or their deep religiosity are not negative traits. In short, Farmington is not a hardcore conservative community nor is it opposed to modernity. There is no evidence that its citizens lack tolerance for cultural differences among people. Like most Midwestern cities, Farmington was not prepared for the close of the industrial revolution. Most of the steel related industries closed in the 1970's leaving thousands of workers unemployed. Many families relocated to California or to neighboring states in search of better opportunities. Much of the once stable housing stock declined as families lost jobs or deferred maintenance and improvements to their homes in fear that they would. City services, especially in the parks and recreational areas, suffered as a consequence of the loss of the industrial tax base. Following the crash of the rust belt industries, state and city officials worked diligently to replace them with "clean industries" most notably a computer firm and several pharmaceutical plants which employ hundreds of workers. But the new industries also suffered dislocations with the result that local economy has had a regular cycle of ups and downs which have challenged the political and civic leader- ship and the citizenry in general. The most recent and serious blow to the town occurred two years ago when a large pharmaceutical manufacturer closed. The owners, a large Japanese conglomerate, decided to move the plant to Puerto Rico where the firm received a sizable tax break in exchange for guaranteeing several hundred jobs. Workers and suppliers in Farmington were given thirty days notice of the closing. The plant closed as rapidly as it had opened twenty years before leaving bitter memories of a highly publicized international partnership gone sour. Most people in Farmington no longer had much to say about the touted "Japanese way of doing business" which had been so admired a few years before. Last year, in the wake of the plant closing, an incident occurred at the local high school which left the city shaking with anger, fear and frustration. The incident involved a half forgotten historical marker. On the front lawn of the high school, a prominent citizen had once erected a large memorial to Farmington soldiers who died in WWII. The monument was donated by a wealthy business man, long dead, who had been a veteran of the infamous Bataaan Death March, an episode in which Japanese soldiers mistreated American prisoners in a deadly march without adequate food, water or medical treatment. Hundreds of American soldiers died, two of them from Farmington. The granite monument on the school grounds had a large bronze plaque at its base on which was inscribed, in large bold letters, BATAAN -- LEST WE FORGET! Like many young people of the 1990's, the students at U.S. Grant High School seem to know little about WWII or Bataan and seem unconcerned about the meaning of the memorial or even about its welfare. Over the years, the Bataan monument, once encircled by a white picket fence and draped in red, white and blue bunting during the month of July, in memory of those who died and a remembrance of those who survived, had become little more than a favored roost on which students sat after lunch chatting and listening to CD's and tapes. Over the course of several decades, hundreds of initials had been carved into the bronze and granite. During the irreverent '60's, the lettering on the monument was defaced by an anonymous person who had used a blow torch to alter the word LEST changing it to BEST. No one had seemed to take note of that incident and no repairs were ever done to the monument. Neither the original lettering (LEST WE FORGET) nor the new version (BEST WE FORGET) seemed to have any meaning for current students at Grant High, though among the older generation, there still remained some painful memories. The monument, known to students simply as "the rock" had become part of the landscape and seemed to have lost its patriotic commemorative meaning. All of that seemed to change, almost overnight, when three male students at U.S. Grant H.S., staged a historical commemorative of their own. The three boys were Japanese American sansei, third generation U.S. born Japanese. One was an honor student, one a track star and the other an average student with no special distinctions as a student although his father had been decorated for valor in Vietnam. Late one November night, the three youth gathered at "the rock" dressed in traditional Samurai warrior garb. They spoke, in English, into the glare of a flood light and a TV camera they had brought along. The young men made short speeches in which they denounced the racism which they claimed was inherent in the internment of Japanese families by the U.S. government during WWII. They condemned the federal government's "tokenistic efforts" to pay reparations to families involved in the internment camps. Racism was clearly the motivation, they said, since German American families were not subject to the same treatment and the Americans even sent General Eisenhower, a German American, to Europe to lead the Allied troops. The students claimed that they had chosen the Bataan memorial to make their statements in order to make the point that WWII had more than one sad story to tell. After concluding their speeches, the boys poured black stage paint over the granite stone and the bronze plaque. Then they made a mock military salute to the TV camera with wooden swords and went home. At ten o'clock the next morning, the head of the local troop of the Veterans of Foreign Wars stormed into the high school in a simmering rage. He was accompanied by three of the leading citizens of the town all wearing VFW hats and equally grim faces. It was clear that they wanted swift and severe punishment and they wanted it NOW. The school secretary walked into the Principal's office -- your office -- and announced with cheery crispness: "You have four fire breathers waiting outside and a group of students have scheduled a counter protest. They're going to burn a Japanese flag at high noon in front of "the rock." The TV station is on its way. So is the board president. Which of these folks do you want to deal with first?" Do you want me to call anybody? Don't forget 'the supe' is out of town today. Looks like you're in charge here. Discussion questions:
The purpose of this draft case is to prompt reflection and dialogue about the role of diversity in educational administration. This case is for discussion purposes only. Please direct requests for permission to reproduce this draft to Dr. Josué González. | ||||