Dan Gill taught middle school social studies in New Jersey for more than five decades. In his picture book debut, No More Chairs, illustrated by Susan Gal, Gill draws from a childhood encounter with racism that inspired him to set aside an empty chair in his classroom as a sign of welcoming everyone. Here, the author reflects on how his story and this symbolic gesture have helped spread a message of inclusion.
For most of my 53 years teaching, I kept an empty chair in my classroom. And every year on Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, my middle school students found out why.
I grew up in the ’60s when the Civil Rights Movement emerged and I became immediately drawn to the oratory and persuasiveness of Martin Luther King Jr. He was a real presence in my life as I grew to adulthood. In the early ’70s, our school celebrations of his life on his birthday were based on our common experiences of being witness to his work. But over time, my own students no longer had that shared experience. The lessons were becoming, well, just history, or another assignment to fulfill the obligation of being a student. What was lost was how his life was not just a recitation of his words, but how it should remind us of who we should be. I needed to find a connection.
As a teacher, I had always emphasized the idea of being curious and my mantra was, “Students answer questions but scholars ask them.” I preached the “power of the pen” and how the written or spoken word could make the audience reflect on their own lives and show how they were connected to history. I also emphasized that their personal history was as meaningful as the history we were studying. I was always in search of ways for my students to connect the dots from past to present.
In asking myself how to help Martin Luther King Jr.’s legacy come alive, I realized that a moment from my own life that was seared into my memory might be just what I needed. It was a story that had had a profound influence on me and ultimately led me to a teaching career.
When I was a kid, one of my best friends was an African American boy named Archie. He and I went to a birthday party together when we were nine years old. The mother of the birthday boy said that I could go in, but Archie could not because there were “no more chairs.” I suggested that we could sit on the floor or go home to get another chair, but she persisted and invited only me into the apartment. Archie and I left together.
The story always had its desired effect. There was often a stunned silence by the students after I told it as they reflected on the intent of those words, “no more chairs.” Then I would explain that was why there was an empty chair at the front of the room, waiting to welcome anyone who walked through the door. My students would tell visitors to my classroom the story and whenever we got a new student, the class would say, “We have a chair for you.”
Decades later, my former students still tell me they never forgot my story. Just as heartwarming, I’ve learned that other schools, after hearing my story, have adopted the chair as their symbol of acceptance. And as the story has spread, I have been lucky to hear from so many good people from all over our country who have told me their tales of equity and inclusion. My hope is that my story, now told in a book, will be an open invitation to the reader to always have a chair in their heart for those who come knocking at their door.
No More Chairs by Dan Gill, illus. by Susan Gal. Little, Brown, $18.99 July 1 ISBN 978-0-316-55269-1
