The scene was poignantly caught by artist Norman Rockwell, though the iconic painting doesn’t capture the vast scope of hate the little Black girl faced.
White parents pulled their kids from school and all the teachers but one refused to teach her. And for nearly two years, one woman waited for Bridges every day she came to school and threatened to poison her food. Another would hold up a Black doll in a coffin.
“One of the other second grade teachers and I were talking after class the other day and I said, ‘It feels like I’m talking out of both sides of my mouth,’” Pankratz said.
“Here were these incredible injustices with segregation and now we’re saying, ‘Well, those problems were solved.’ But now we’re having many of those same issues with our friends — the Haitians.”
When I spoke to Pankratz this past week, she was frustrated, saddened, heartbroken really.
The day before Springfield city schools and government offices had endured several bomb threats.
Afterward it was determined they’d been sent from overseas, just as they had 18 months earlier when Pankratz and her then second-graders suddenly had to board a bus and be rushed to the high school which was more secure.
This time suspicious duffel bags — later discovered to be empty, but raising questions whether there was a local accomplice, as well — were found outside the Clark County Municipal Court and the public safety building.
As state troopers and bomb-sniffing dogs were brought in last week and other security measures were ramped up, classes again were cancelled for Springfield city schools
A day later the community college was targeted.
“These are threats that also referenced Haitians,” Ohio Governor Mike DeWine said during a press briefing on Monday. “The whole essence of the threats were the Haitians should be out, get rid of the Haitians.”
And that’s what tears at Pankratz — so much of this trouble comes from outsiders.
Pankratz knows what’s really happening in Springfield. An influx of Haitians with U.S. government approved Temporary Protective Status answered a city initiative to bring in immigrants. TPS was granted to Haitians after a series of crises that would rival biblical times upended their lives at home.
She’s seen the beauty that’s often unfolded in her classroom, which has just a few Haitian students, and she’s especially seen it with the Springfield High School soccer team, for which her son Miles is one of four captains.
Three of the senior captains are American born and the fourth is Haitian.
Pankratz and the moms of the other two captains raised in Springfield — Faith Bosland and Katy Shay — are speaking out about what they have witnessed with the team the past few years.
They not only want the rest of the world to know what Springfield is really like, but they believe if teenage boys — who “can’t even remember to pick up their dirty socks off the floor,” as Bosland points out the way only a mom can — could learn these lessons of respect, friendship and pooled success, then so too can adults.
“We talk about the Mama Bear coming out in us,” Pankratz said in reference to the female grade schoolteachers she works with and especially she and the other soccer moms.
“The boys on the team, they’re all our kids and we would do anything for them,” she said.
Shay, who works at a local factory, said she’s doing what she can in these troubling times: “I say a lot of prayers and sign petitions and now I try to speak up when I can.”
The latter answers the directive of Springfield Mayor Rob Rue who two months ago — with the TPS status set to end for Haitians on February 3 — told a gathering at the Missionary Baptist Church in Springfield:
“Let me tell you. It’s time to be silent no more!”
‘They were willing to try’
Pankratz had been doing so for more than a year. She posted an impassioned account on social media about what she’s seen happening with her young students and, at the start of the 2024 school year, she was part of a compelling piece by Jackie Valley in the Christian Science Monitor entitled: “The rumors targeted Haitians. All of Springfield is paying the price.”
As for Shay she’s voiced her personal experiences at her workplace:
“Working in a factory there are a lot of different voices there. I just try to go with what I know because truthfully I’ve never had a bad experience at all.
“I’ve been around many of the Haitian players and their families and they are amazing. The kids are some of the nicest you could ever meet. They’re quiet and polite and give it their all on the soccer field. Their parents are hardworking and want the same things for their families that we do for ours.”
No one denies there haven’t been some real struggles assimilating some 12,000 to 15,000 Haitians into the city that’s now has about 60,000 people.
Driving issues had to be corrected. Language barriers had to be bridged and long lines — like at the DMV — had to be waited out.
School resources were strained and rent prices increased.
A tragic tipping point came when a Haitian driver crashed into a school bus and an 11-year-old boy, Aiden Clark, was killed.
It was a terrible accident — and the man would end up going to prison — but the tragedy was turned it into political fodder, and references to it were so full of mischaracterizations and inhumanity that the boy’s parents held a press conference and pleaded with elected officials to stop using their son as a prop to justify anti-immigrant hatred and make “political gain.”
On the flip side, a pair of politicians who have stood out for their common sense, their empathy and humanity in this situation are Mayor Rue and Governor DeWine, both Republicans.
DeWine, who was born in Springfield, has a special affinity for Haitian people. He and his wife Fran travelled to Haiti over a dozen times to visit The Becky DeWine School, a network of tuition-free schools in the Cite Soleil slum of Port-au-Prince, named after their 22-year-old daughter, who died in a 1993 car accident.
The school was forced to close two years ago due to rising violence there.
The DeWines have often spoken publicly about the positive influence Haitians have had in Springfield: How they are hard workers, embrace family and value education.
DeWine thinks it’s wrong for TPS status to end for Haitians.
A few weeks ago Bosland went to Springfield City Commission to speak up about her Haitian neighbors. She was given three minutes.
“Even though voicing my thoughts felt like putting a drop in the ocean, I couldn’t look back on this time and know that I stayed silent,” she would later write on a Facebook post. “Sometimes we forget that enough drops put together actually bear weight.”
Her point comes from the heart, and I think more people than just those at the city commission meeting or those visiting her Facebook page should know what she said.
So here’s the full text — minus the last line — of her comments:
“I’ve been a Springfield resident for 21 years and this is the first time I’ve voiced an opinion at a commission meeting. I was recently told that for those of us who have been silent the past few years while louder and sometimes angrier voices dominated our community, now is the time to speak. So that’s why I’m here.
“I want to tell you a story. For the past 4 years, my son played soccer at Springfield High school and during the last 2 seasons between one third to two thirds of his teammates were Haitian immigrants.
“That’s a lot of practice time, travel time, and game time together over 2 years. It was frustrating for them at times dealing with different languages and styles of play, but those high school boys figured out how to work as a team.
“They didn’t hold hands and sing kumbaya, they were just willing to respect each other. They were willing to learn. They were willing to try.
“And I can tell you that when the ball went in the net, nobody cared what country that player was born in — it was just a goal by someone who was willing to put on a Springfield jersey and put a point on the board for Springfield.
“This is a true story but it’s also a metaphor for what Springfield is and what we could be. If you don’t know, Springfield is not really a soccer city like Beavercreek or Centerville — we don’t have a lot of kids growing up who love the sport and keep playing it. But these Haitian boys showed up to play and we needed them.
“Right now, we have thousands of people who were born in another country, but they are willing to live in this community and work here and contribute here, to put on the jersey for Springfield.
“Economically, we need them. We need points on the board for Springfield. It might be easier if all your teammates are American born, but I know there’s a way to make it work. Because if teenage boys can figure it out, so can the rest of us.
“Quite frankly, and I say this with love in my heart, most of those guys can’t even remember to pick up their dirty socks off the floor. I love those guys but they’re not that special.
“If they can work together across languages and differences toward a common goal, so can the adults of our community if we’re willing to try. One more thing because I think it needs to be said in this current moment.
“I’m a follower of Jesus, but I don’t think you need to be a Christian to understand that cruelty is wrong. Ripping families apart is wrong. Rejoicing in another person’s suffering is wrong. Changing the rules on someone midstream while they are trying to follow the law is wrong.”
‘You could feel the camaraderie’
Shay said while there definitely were challenges when the Springfield soccer players and their new Haitian teammates first got together, they worked it out too and became a real team.
“These boys are something special,” she said.
That was never manifested more than in their pregame ritual. As the starters were being announced, the whole team would gather in a U-shape, the players arms — black and white — wrapped around each other’s shoulders.
Pankratz told of how one of their senior players suddenly had to move to Lima and how delighted the rest of the team was when that boy — finding out his old teammates were playing nearby — found a way to the game so he could be with his friends.
And Shay said that’s why her son was saddened when one of his Haitian friends — his family fearful of potential ICE raids in Springfield — fled to Canada.
“It breaks my heart what’s happening now,” Shay said.
And still these moments of disruption and duress can’t eclipse the many joys the teammates have experienced over the past few years.
Pankratz told me how delighted her son was when two of his Haitian teammates were inducted into the National Honor Society at school.
The Wildcats are in the Greater Western Ohio Conference — with powerful soccer schools like Centerville and Beavercreek — so they often were overpowered and finished the season 4-14.
But with this team — in this town in these times — some of the best victories weren’t defined by a lighted scoreboard.
“They had such a beautiful season,” Pankratz said. “Miles would come off the field full of joy. He’d say, ‘We worked hard. We had fun.’ You could feel the camaraderie.”
Pankratz said she sees the same thing in her second-grade classroom, and she addressed it in a Facebook post:
“If our classroom can exist, thrive and grow with a diverse population of humans, so can we as a city and a country. This is about seeing the truth that all of us are human.
“It’s as simple as that.”
And that brings us to the final thing Bosland said to the City Commission:
“I pray that Springfield, my community, is a community that’s known for being on the right side of history and humanity.”
If that happens, the conundrum may give way to classroom celebration once again.
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