race issues in the classroom

When I became a mother everybody laughed and joked with me that babies don't come with instruction manuals. And yet, I found that raising a baby was not quite so hard as everybody made out. A lot of it was intuition. A lot of it was talking to other people, watching other parents, making mistakes, correcting...

Sadly, what I find much more difficult is dealing with students. At least, on the human level, not the professional one. I had five years of instruction manuals before ever setting foot in a classroom. And since then, nine more years with one on one relationships, conferences, meetings, more instruction manuals... and yet, certain issues were never addressed in any of those books or meetings. Or, if they were, I didn't get the lesson.

The issue of racism was certainly addressed. At least in the historical context. And in the context of this is unjust. We cannot allow bully students to use race as weapon. But, I can't remember anybody ever sitting down with us and levelling with us about how to talk to students about racism. Nobody ever talked to me about how to walk the tightrope between acknowledging injustices and cultural differences without watering down expectations and crippling my students through accomodations.

How exactly do I even the playing field, and give my students all the tools they need to succeed in life without furthering the injustices already there?

And how do I do all of that while still addressing the curriculum? Do I put the Spanish on hold to discuss racial tension in the classroom? Do I reprimand the offending student and continue with the lesson thus holding everyone to the same high standards?

More thoughts on racism

I never really thought about racism as pertinent. I also never really considered the idea of white priviledge. If anybody had mentioned it to me as a child, I would have laughed at them. After all, I grew up in a single parent home. I attended ten different schools by the time I graduated high school. I remember the shame and the stigma of wearing clothes that were out of style and didn't quite fit because they were bought at Good Will, or donated as some act of charity. To this day I cannot stomach the thought of powdered milk or Wonder Bread, they were staples in the food the local church dropped off on our porch. And I hate using coupons, they remind me of the food stamps my mother used to purchase our groceries.

Racism wasn't really discussed in my family other than to say that it was bad. Most of my friends were white, but not all of them. My friends were chosen more from the demographics in my classes than any other reason. And I do remember thinking quite clearly that I could not be racist because my best friend was black. That was in 9th grade. So, as much as racism was not discussed, obviously the idea of it was a part of my consciousness. Dating a black boy later in high school proved to be disastrous. But again, it never occurred to me to think any more on the subject than that my father was anachronistic.

It wasn't until I lived in another country and was surrounded by another language and another culture, that I began to think critically about my own culture in terms of race. There I sat, in a cafe speaking in English with an American friend. I don't remember what we were talking about, but the rest of the events are burned into my memory. A stranger came and sat down at the table with us. He asked us if we were American, since he heard us speaking in English. We told him that yes, we were. Then he asked us if either one of us had ever met a black person. We were both shocked. It offended our sensibilities that 1. a stranger would sit at our table and intrude into our conversation and 2. that he would blatantly talk about race. We told him that yes, we both knew black people. He was intrigued. He wanted to know what they were like. If we were friends with any, etc. I told him that some of my best friends were black, and he actually physically recoiled. He asked how I could be friends with a black person, they were all gangsters, they all carried guns, cussed, etc. Then I asked him, if he had never met a single black person, how he knew this to be true. His answer shocked me, and still has me thinking years later. See? He knew all of this was true because he watched American movies.

I came home, I spoke to my classes in the university about this. I started watching movies and television more critically. If I didn't know this culture, what would I think watching this? What images are we broadcasting to the world about our views, our beliefs, ourselves?

Then this summer I was taking a course for grad school. I had to interview professionals about ethnic and cultural minorities in schools and how we can better serve our gifted students who are minorities. The woman I interviewed told me that growing up she was raised never to hate white people. Her father had always told her that without white people, there would still be slaves.

Just like the comment made to me in that cafe, and the book I read after completing the interview, this comment has stuck with me. It was a complete paradigm shift for me. I'd never looked at the race issue from that side before. But it was very liberating to hear. I find that since that conversation, I am less hesitant in opening dialogues and talking to people. It is almost as if I am not ashamed of being white, which comment sounds very odd because I am not ashamed of who I am, but I don't know how else to explain the change inside. It was also a burden. I hear racist ideas and views in things people say without even thinking. I see racist images in the media. I see racism in the classroom. And now I ask myself, am I behaving in the manner of an abolitionist? Or am I being part of the silent majority who believes something is wrong but who will not speak up out of fear?

Racism

As part of my coursework, I read the book Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? and other conversations about race by Beverly Daniel Tatum. The book is written on a very conversational level, it's not very difficult to read in that sense. But, it was difficult to read on another level. The author points out that we are conditioned not to talk about race, or even to acknowledge differences in race.

Since I have read it, thoughts just keep permeating and percolating through my consciousness. Mostly though, I see and hear racism everywhere now. Once I thought that racism was nearly non-existent in our modern society. Now I am surrounded by it. Innocuous comments that people say without even thinking reek of it. Comments about "ebonics", comments about customers in restaurants... it sickens me, it saddens me, and in large part, it leaves me feeling confused. What do I, as a white woman, do to stand up to what I see as wrong? How do I point out that these things are not right? That they are racist slurs?

Two thoughts have really stuck with me since I read the book this summer. The first is a conversation the author had with her young son about why some people are black, and how to acknowledge racial differences without being offensive, even with young children. As I talk with my own young children, I think of the conversation she had with her son, and I hope I am teaching him well.

The second thing that really sticks in my mind is that white people don't mean to be racist. The context for this was hiring practices. She writes that often white people will hire white people over other equally qualified candidates without ever realizing that this could be racist. We like to be around people that are similar to us, and so without even realizing our internal biases, we perpetuate old patterns. She went on to say that white people often don't intend to be racist, and if the intention of diversity is clearly made to be a priority at the outset, then this pattern of preference for white candidates is often mitigated.

I was asked to select a student of the month for September. I had two students in mind, when the above thought came ringing through my mind. And then I thought of the board downstairs with the pictures of the students of the month for all the different departments. Most of them were white. Considering the demographics of my school, that isn't too surprising. But, the black students on the board were up there for the vocation and sports, not for the academic classes. I thought about my two students again. They are both fantastic students, with bubbly personalities. They both help their classmates out, are willing to try things they might get wrong, and are happy to play along with my eccentricities. In short, they were equally qualified in my book. One girl is white, the other is black. One girl is an honors student, the other is in AVID (a program designed to help students who might otherwise not be college bound). It doesn't take a genius to guess which girl I picked.

And it has meant so much to her and her family. She told me that it has given her confidence that she can succeed even if she isn't as smart as everybody else.

more thoughts on the achievement gap

Of course, by closing the achievement gap, we aren't saying that all students have to score the same, or that we have to hold our brightest students back.

What we are saying is that we have to find a way to make sure that we are not imposing glass ceilings on students. When we look at the data and we see that African American and other minority students score two standard deviations below middle-class Caucasian students, we have to see something other than just bright students scoring well. We have to see a system of ingrained racism. We have to find a solution.

But, that solution also cannot come at the expense of holding bright students back.