Roy S. Johnson: Author Derrick Barnes, ‘I’d like to speak with the superintendent’
This is an opinion column.
Derrick Barnes wants to chat with Dee Fowler.
Not out of anger. He’s past that now. He and his wife are past that. They’re now adjusting, or trying, to being near-empty nesters with the last two of their four boys—11, 16, 18, and 22—still at home while the two oldest are away in college. “We’re going into a new phase of our lives, man; so, we’ve got to transition right along with them,” Barnes shared with me this week from Charlotte, where the family lives. “Home seems weird now with just these two little guys here. You blink and they’re all grown adults. It’s kind of rough.”
He’s on to working on the eight or so manuscripts he’s juggling. On to scheduling the cornucopia of invitations the award-winning children’s book author has received from schools as far away as Canada since Fowler, the superintendent of Hoover City Schools, canceled him. Canceled scheduled appearances for Barnes to speak with children in three Hoover elementary schools.
Canceled because Barnes was “controversial,” Fowler asserted. Asserted without fact one. Without a screenshot of a single still-invisible “controversial” social media post flagged by one parent.
One.
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“I don’t even really think it was a parent who complained,” Barnes said. “I think it was a superintendent and the school board. They still haven’t said which social media posts they didn’t like, which is crazy to me. I’ve been doing this forever, man. I post about my children, my wife, music I like, and literature.
“I also post about social injustice, like police brutality and things in American history that lend themselves to talk about racism. That’s not gonna change. If you’re a Black artist in this country, then by default … you’re an activist. In some sort of way, you have to lean into that. You can’t just make art for the sake of making art.
“I would like to have a conversation with your superintendent. His job is to expand the minds of those children and that includes making sure they are surrounded by adults—professionals and people who have different points of view and come from different walks of life. If you’re not doing that, you’re not really doing your job.”
Point of clarity, Dee Fowler is not my superintendent. Moving on.
Barnes is coming. The canceled trip would have been his first visit to our state. Fowler pulled the welcome mat from beneath Barnes’ feet.
He’ll come, in time. On Friday, Barnes is scheduled to make a virtual appearance to children at Alabaster Elementary School.
He’s been speaking at schools, to children across the nation since 2005. To children in elementary to middle schools, which span the 30-some-odd children’s/youth books he’s written since leaving Hallmark, his first job out of college. Working as a copywriter of those sappy greetings we all fall for; he was the company’s first Black employee.
He didn’t get paid for that first speaking gig. The folks gave him a fruit basket and “a gift certificate to somewhere,” he recalled with a laugh. The venue was his eldest son’s school. “He was in pre-K. I still remember seeing him walk into the library to hear me. I’ve been doing this for 18 years now.”
Barnes was to be paid $3,000 for each school. Fowler told AL.com Hoover schools paid Barnes $3,800.
In the aftermath, 140 Hoover educators signed a petition—100 of them boldly using their names—demanding an explanation and change.
“That gave me hope man,” Barnes told me. “Ever since the 2016 election, you thought the world is just going to turn upside down. But there are so many people who don’t want this nonsense. They don’t they don’t want the country to go backward.”
His talks to children evolved over the years, as you might guess. But the core message has been consistent.
“We’re all constantly in transition,” he said. “When I’m talking to fourth or fifth graders, they’re about to go to middle school, so I’ll bring that up. I pretty much speak to these kids the same way I’d want somebody to treat my sons. I talk about setting goals and writing them down and putting them somewhere visible so you can see him.”
Barnes calls himself an introvert. “Going out and speaking is probably the worst part of the job for me,” he said. “I enjoy meeting the children though. Like when I’d sign books and have conversations with them. But being out in front of large groups. I hate it.”
He does it, though, for the “babies”, as he terms elementary-aged kids. Oh, he does it to enhance book sales and for the increasingly lucrative fees, no doubt; that’s no crime. But he genuinely loves speaking to young children.
“You realize how important it is, especially for Black children, to see a Black man who’s a writer,” he says. “How many children want to go into creative jobs or dream about being something creative, and for them to see someone is actually doing it?
“In many ways, for all children, we are their first introduction to fine literature and fine art. So, I take that extremely seriously. I want to make sure the first book a little Black boy or little Black girl reads has a character that looks just like them. I take my responsibility as a Black children’s book author extremely seriously.”
When he does eventually speak to Alabama students, Barnes says he’ll come with no animosity.
“I wouldn’t even speak about anything that occurred or reasons why I didn’t come before,” he said. “I’ll give those babies the same presentation I always do. I was just in South Dakota in December. I’ve been to the whitest white areas. I’ve been to the most urban areas. I give the babies the same presentation. I give them me.
“The greatest compliment I always get from teachers is that when I’m speaking and interacting with kids, it’s like I’m an uncle, and that resonates with the kids. I like that. I wouldn’t even speak on the issue. I hope the house is packed so they can see how absurd the initial cancellation was.”
Barnes began writing by age 10. He’s 47 now. He was pulled into the children’s genre by the agent he aligned with while at Hallmark because, well, all the published poets and artists he worked with had reps. She introduced him to Scholastic, the nation’s largest children’s book publisher. They created an imprint for Black books: Just Us Books.
“She said, “I can get you to I can get you a two-book deal for kindergarten pre-K.’ Those were my first two books,” Barns said. “and I feel like every time we had a child, I had a new book deal.
“You’ve gotta learn how to how to balance your life and you’ll end up being where you supposed to be, creating what you supposed to create,” he added. “God’s going to make sure of that.”
Being where you’re supposed to be. It’s a message our children deserve to hear.
And some adults need to hear.
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Roy S. Johnson is a Pulitzer Prize finalist for commentary and winner of the Edward R. Murrow prize for podcasts: “Unjustifiable,” co-hosted with John Archibald. His column appears in The Birmingham News and AL.com, as well as the Huntsville Times, and Mobile Press-Register. Reach him at [email protected], follow him at twitter.com/roysj, or on Instagram @roysj.