There was a time in American history when government and whites were responsible for our social challenges. As is today, government was administered through institutions. Slavery existed. Antebellum slavery existed afterwards. A lost war gave rise to a social movement known as the Ku Klux Klan. A convict lease system evolved. Debt slavery emerged in the form of sharecropping. Chain gangs existed afterwards. There was segregation. There was integration. There was also a social movement for civil rights. Benign neglect of black communities followed. A black liberation movement also occurred.

The most resilient among us survived these centuries of American history. We gravitated where opportunities existed – crime, education, entertainment, farming. Not necessarily in that order. Today, black people contend with police shootings and wrongful convictions – incessantly. We call each other niggas in movies, music, and radio and television programs. Voluntarily! Our shame and stereotypes represent us in main stream media. We contribute to our challenges now. Laurinburg Institute is a shining example.

Our school was an alternative school before the phrase was trendy. Non-traditional students were admitted. Some aged out of high schools around the country. Others attended in lieu of incarceration. Laurinburg Institute was a last resort for many of us due to academic or behavioral challenges elsewhere. We meshed with average teens expecting traditional high school experiences.

Along the way, our school gave asylum to troubled athletes. This was strongly denied in Prep School of Excellence; New York Times, Dec. 23, 1984. Though, a string of basketball players in the 1980s, ’90s, and 2000s negated that denial. The governing body of college athletics investigated in 2006. Laurinburg Institute has since received the “death penalty.” The NCAA discredits all courses completed there. Our student athletes cannot participate in sports at NCAA – member institutions.

The moral of this story, though, is cloistered in campus buildings. Mildew consumes swaths of brick. Patches of mold surrounds wood building trim. Much of that trim is detached from sides and tops of buildings. There’s broken windows too. Our gymnasium, library, pool, and tennis court have been unuseable for decades. The 55-acre, 13-building campus looks condemned. Unofficially, Laurinburg Institute is closed.

In April our alumni association president apologized for lack of leadership since 2017. This was a tacit apology ensconced in conference call notes. She asked us to ‘make every effort to keep our ship from sinking’. That is, our alumni association. She also asked us to pay dues. Then she admits prioritizing involvement in other organizations over ours. We have 8 regional chapters. Four have no regional leaders. Seven have never had activities or members. Our president apologized. She promised to devote more time after June 30. Half of 2019 will be over. That’s when her duties with other organizations end. This person is also a Board of Trustees member at Laurinburg Institute.

We’re the only school in history with multiple mascots. None are proprietary. One looks like a bobcat. It’s screen printed on shirts issued to basketball players. Another looks like a mountain lion. That’s on our 2015 reunion shirts. Someone enlarged clip art of a tiger from Google IMAGES and hung it on the side of a building at Laurinburg Institute. That mascot looks like a Bengal and Tony the Tiger hybrid.

Hanging above that mascot is our school name in Carolina blue letters. School colors have traditionally been royal blue and gold. Navy blue and white has also been used. Still, our school seal is plastered in purple and gold on every page of our website. That same site references back-to-back championships noted in Sports Illustrated — though no banners exist for our five basketball championships. Coaches and players are still waiting for rings and shirts a decade later. Our leaders reference Dizzy Gillespie’s name religiously. There’s been no music program since the 1980s. All athletic programs have ended, too.

We contribute to our challenges as earlier stated. Laurinburg Institute is a shining example. Consider the dissipated prestige of our school. Note its condition and status. Imagine our alumni association president littering the official record of her organization with a tacit apology. There’s a hodgepodge of mascots and school colors. And, our school has no idea who or where thousands of its alumni are.

This nonsense exists because Laurinburg Institute is a family business. They operate with impunity. We’re a taut check and balance for the school. Until we’re included, this nonsense continues. We are alumni. All Laurinburg Institute ever needs is held in abundance by thousands of us throughout the world – starting with me.

Andre Mack is an Laurinburg Institute alumnus and can be reached at [email protected].

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