Carson v. Makin (My Free Exercise Can Beat Up Your Wall of Separation)

June 22, 2022June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 2 Comments

Well, any pretense Chief Justice John Roberts has been maintaining about being in any way “moderate” or “reasonable” seems to have been blown to hell this week. The Court’s decision in Carson v. Makin (2022) accelerates the jurisprudential slide away from the proverbial “wall of separation” and elevates the “free exercise” of the minority with the most influence in federal government over the right of anyone else not to pay for it. In the process, the Supreme Court is now openly deriding the suggestion that states have an obligation (or even the right?) to provide a secular public education for kids to begin with.

In Zelman v. Simmons-Harris (2002), the Supreme Court decided that state voucher programs providing funding for students to attend private schools – even religious institutions – can be constitutional. It relied heavily on the role of “parent choice” to determine where state funds were actually spent. Even if the majority of vouchers were used at private religious institutions, as long as there were valid secular options and the choices were made by families rather than the government, the program did not violate the Establishment Clause.

In Trinity Lutheran Church of Columbia, Inc., v. Comer (2017), the Court required the state of Missouri to include churches or other religious organization in a state program to modernize playgrounds. This was the first time the Court determined that the U.S. Constitution required government to provide direct public assistance to religious institutions. In so doing, it called into question the validity of “the Blaine Amendment” – provisions in many state constitutions which prohibit direct support of sectarian institutions. Usually, this meant schools.

In Espinoza v. Montana Department of Revenue (2020), the Court determined that excluding religious schools from voucher programs violated the Free Exercise Clause of the First Amendment. The Court had previously distinguished between what funds were being used to DO (meaning that general good being done by religious institutions might still qualify for public funding) vs. distinctions based on what an institution WAS or BELIEVED. Restricting public funding based on what was being promoted might be OK; restricting it based on the beliefs or values of the institution was NOT. In Espinoza, despite token acknowledgement of this historical consideration in the majority opinion, in practice the distinction was clearly beginning to crumble.

In Our Lady of Guadalupe School v. Morrissey-Berry (2020), the Supreme Court extended its earlier ruling in Hosanna-Tabor Evangelical Lutheran Church and School v. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (2012) and determined that for purposes of hiring, firing, or other human resources type decisions, teachers and staff at religious schools were clergy. Normal protections regarding age, illness, sexuality, political affiliations, race, unexpected life events, etc., simply did not and could not apply. It didn’t matter whether the teacher in question was even a member of the faith – they could be hired and fired at will and treated however the institution wishes to treat them with little redress.

As I said so very profoundly in “Have To” History: A Wall of Education…

The combination of Espinoza v. Montana and Our Lady of Guadalupe (decided during the same session) seemed to set up something of a paradox. Private religious schools are primarily “schools” when it’s time to hand out tax dollars but primarily “churches” when the specter of accountability appears. This is a tad frustrating for public school advocates who see tax dollars being redirected for religious uses minus any real expectations or accountability.

I know – makes you wish you’d already bought the book, doesn’t it?

Now comes Carson v. Makin, in which the Court has just ruled that if Maine wishes to provide ANY assistance or aid to non-public schools, it cannot exclude religious institutions, no matter what policies they uphold or which doctrines they teach as part of that education. This is particularly problematic in Maine, where apparently there are many areas without secondary public schooling options, but the larger principle will impact educational institutions in every state, regardless of local wishes or logistics.

I’ll post a separate breakdown of the ruling in the next few days, but for now I’ll simply link to some of the better summaries of the decision by others. I don’t think any of them are behind paywalls, but honestly I lose track sometimes, so my apologies if any of the links take you to a dead end.

“Supreme Court Rejects Maine’s Ban on Aid to Religious Schools” (The New York Times) – this is one of the more balanced and succinct articles on the list and a good place to start if you don’t know much about the case to begin with.

“The Supreme Court Just Forced Maine to Fund Religious Education. It Won’t Stop There.” (Slate) – this one offers excellent analysis of the likely impact of this case and shares many of my own concerns. There are also plenty of helpful links to related cases and analyses embedded in the article itself. As a teaser, here’s the opening paragraph:

The Supreme Court’s conservative supermajority effectively declared on Tuesday that the separation of church and state—a principle enshrined in the Constitution—is, itself, unconstitutional. Its 6–3 decision in Carson v. Makin requires Maine to give public money to private religious schools, steamrolling decades of precedent in a race to compel state funding of religion. Carson is radical enough on its own, but the implications of the ruling are even more frightening: As Justice Stephen Breyer noted in dissent, it has the potential to dismantle secular public education in the United States.

“The Supreme Court Tears a New Hole in the Wall Separating Church and State” (Vox) – another excellent analysis of the case, although the tone is slightly less horrified than that of the folks at Slate or myself. I particularly like this analogy:

Think of it this way: Suppose that a state provides grants to help private institutions set up food banks and soup kitchens. If a church sought one of these grants, it could not be denied because of its Christian identity. But the state could require the church to spend 100 percent of the grant money it receives on secular activities such as feeding the poor, and not on religious activity such as distributing Bibles to the needy.
Carson effectively eliminates this distinction between organizations that have a religious identity, and organizations that want to use government funds for religious purposes. After Carson, a private school may not only receive a government tuition subsidy, it may also use that subsidy to fund explicitly religious instruction.

Even if you’re a religious person yourself, which specific theology do you think it’s most likely your tax dollars will be supporting going forward? If you need a hint, check out the dominant voices in the Republican Party over the past few years.

“Court’s Excellent Free-Exercise Ruling in Carson v. Makin” (National Review) – even if you’re not familiar with National Review, the title should tip you off that they’re not at all displeased with this decision. I’m including this piece partly to pretend I’m fair and balanced, but mostly because it includes some relevant background and perspective not present in the other links. Like most conservative voices, it deals with the worst of the decision by simply ignoring the obvious ramifications, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a read.

“How Supreme Court Ruling Lays Groundwork for Religious Charter Schools” (The Washington Post) – I have a digital subscription, but WP might do one of those “limited number of free articles” things. This one covers the important stuff but focuses especially on the “status-use distinction” mentioned above.

Finally, here’s a PDF of the Court’s written decision, including dissents from the usual suspects. As I’ve lovingly suggested in both of my books on our nation’s highest court, these aren’t as hard to read as they may seem when you first peruse them. Some of the language gets wonky, and the formatting is at times off-putting, but most of the various opinions are quite accessible and worth your time.

I hope to give this one further attention and perhaps draw attention to my own thoughts and concerns in the next few days. As always, your comments are welcome below.

Arts In The Apocalypse

June 10, 2022June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

If you keep up with education news at all, you know all the usual struggles – class sizes, standardized testing, general hostility towards educators by whoever’s looking to score points with conservatives that week, etc. One of the biggies is the ongoing battle to keep the arts in public education. Every time budgets are tight (and they usually are), one of the first things to go is music, or the visual arts, or drama. Even when those classes survive, they’re the first to become “dumping grounds” for students who’ve shown no particular interest in anything but have to be SOMEWHERE. “Hey, anyone can draw a picture or hit a drum, right?”

Either way, we as a society continue to show a dismissiveness towards the arts which we’d never tolerate towards Algebra III, Indiana State History, Astronomy, or even Basketball. We still claim to value reading, but our focus is increasingly utilitarian. Why waste time and energy reading books for pleasure? (Even many otherwise wonderful English teachers express horror at the stuff their kids read if given “too much choice”; presumably, unless it’s “good for you,” we shouldn’t be reading it in school.) And the idea that students should be encouraged to WRITE anything not purely academic… perish the thought!

Given the kind of money we’re all apparently happy to pay to watch pro sports, download music, go to movies, or read fiction of questionable quality, this strikes me as something of a paradox. Plus, it’s stupid.

Of all the terrible ideas we’ve heard in recent years regarding public education (and there’ve been a LOT of them), few do more immediate and universal damage than cutting arts programs. Thomas Jefferson once said that if he had to choose between “government without newspapers or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.” In the same spirit, I’d like to explain why in dark times such as these, if given the choice between focusing more resources on “academic” programming or pouring it into arts education, I’ll gladly argue for the latter.

1) Well-Rounded Students Are Better Students

Pretty much every civilized nation in the history of mankind has included some variation of the arts in whatever education its people determined to be appropriate. The Ancient Greeks pushed plenty of music, drama, and literature right alongside all that math and philosophy we still celebrate today. The Classical Chinese valued poetry, music, and calligraphy as much as math or political philosophy. No upscale European education was considered complete without instruction in formal dance and a thorough familiarity with classic literature.

Participating in arts education tends to increase achievement in more mundane academic subjects as well. This is a useful point to bring up for school boards or grumpy administrators, but let’s not get too sidetracked by this little pedagogical bonus. If you ask me about my favorite books, musicals, songs, or paintings, and I respond by carrying on about how the newest Bowling For Soup album really helped me focus on repairing the fence in my back yard or explain that I’m counting on an upcoming local production of Something Rotten to help me better strategize ways to reduce credit card debt, I doubt you’d invite me to your next cookout.

Sadly, you’d miss my talk on how the culinary arts make us better at plasma physics.

Supporting the arts because of their positive impact on other subjects is a bit like dating a girl because she has so many attractive friends. The arts matter because of what they are and what they do – all by themselves. The rest is gravy.

2) The Arts Promote Social & Emotional Learning (SEL)

Yeah, I said it. Educators simply must refuse to stop using useful terms any time the disingenuous or ignorant appropriate them for their own propaganda and demagoguery.

Social and Emotional Learning (SEL) refers to a very important, but very normal, part of growing up and learning how to become a useful member of a complex society. It’s all the stuff that goes into figuring out who we are individually as well as collectively and learning how to manage our emotions and respond to the emotions of others so we can function in small groups, large groups, or alone.

Any time you decide not to eat an entire bag of Double Stuff Oreos because you’ll ruin your dinner and feel gross afterwards, you’re demonstrating SEL. Any time you set aside your phone so you can focus on finishing your math homework first, that’s SEL. Taking a deep breath when your co-worker is being difficult and trying to figure out what’s going on with him before responding (instead of simply screaming, crying, and throwing coffee on him) shows you’ve managed some SEL. In short, if you’ve ever successfully managed a team, contributed to a discussion, or participated in a book club or Bible study, congratulations – you must have learned a little SEL somewhere along the way.

Probably in school.

The alternative, of course, is to become a sociopath – completely isolated and unable to process or accommodate the opinions, feelings, or ethical constraints of others. You can go halfway and settle for only caring about people just like you and refusing to understand anyone or anything beyond your own closed little world, but that’s not usually the most profitable or personally fulfilling course.

Music, drama, literature, and the arts are all different ways of exploring the human condition and the experiences, insights, and emotions of others. We don’t have to emulate or even “like” every character or idea expressed in order to benefit from understanding them better. It’s also likely that we’ll continually discover more about our own thoughts, feelings, hopes, fears, dysfunctions, and potential as we “become” others by singing their songs, reading their words, or acting out their lives.

Empathy isn’t a touch-feely weakness the left uses to force out God and make room for socialism. It’s a form of understanding – of wisdom. It’s related to the same internal imaginings which allow us to learn history or better understand political or economic principles. It’s why we’re able to care about our families and friends enough to argue about what’s best for them. It’s also why most of us don’t want to shoot up our schools or workplaces, and why we’re so hurt and angry at those who enable such things. Even if you don’t like most other people, some general understanding of their feelings and beliefs, not to mention a few basic “people skills,” are essential for success in most professions or communities.

It’s not just the emotions and ideas of others, of course. Art helps us confront and recognize our own desires, fears, lusts, hopes, and foibles as well. Emotions should never be in complete charge of our choices, but they DO matter, and understanding them is part of becoming a mature, self-reliant individual able to function in a complicated world.

3) Art Challenges Us

You’ve probably heard that court jesters in the Middle Ages could often say things to royalty that would result in imprisonment or execution for anyone else. Whether or not this was universally true, art (including humor) often communicates difficult or unpopular ideas in creative, engaging ways and challenges us to question our own thoughts, feeling, and assumptions about almost anything.

The stand-up comedy of Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, or George Carlin could be offensive. (Bruce was arrested multiple times for obscenity.) Not everyone finds every comedian equally funny, and sometimes we pass the mic to someone with absolutely nothing useful to say but plenty of vulgar or hateful ways to say it. Other times, however, humor speaks truth to power. Sometimes, jokes shape how we think about the world around us more than the mere sharing of information ever could (just ask Jon Stewart).

Theater has a long history of exploring the human condition via comedy, drama, or even by breaking into song every few minutes. Literature isn’t always heavy, but even seemingly light texts often have a way of undermining our assumptions about society, government, love, family, good, evil, or life itself. The visual arts and many forms of music are particularly good at skipping right past our defenses into our subconscious mind and spiritual-emotional centers to rattle our norms.

The impact of music or visual arts doesn’t even have to be consciously understood or remotely logical to impact us in meaningful ways. There are still R.E.M. songs I still don’t fully understand thirty-some years later but which stir me and “matter” to me. I can explain some of why They Might Be Giants has been my favorite band for decades, but much of it eludes empirical clarification. Even if your musical druthers lean towards Taylor Swift, YoungBoy, or BTS, you’re exploring emotions and ideas when you put those headphones on.

Art in all its forms stimulates more than our rational selves, which in turn supports thinking more clearly and – in many cases – making better choices. Even if we decide “logic” or “reason” should triumph at the end of the day, our thinking is better informed with plenty of the arts in the mix.

Yes, much of this occurs by listening, watching, reading, etc. We interact with art even when we’re not the artist. Better understanding, however, requires picking up that flute, trying out for that role, or filling that canvas. No one enjoys and appreciates poetry more than other poets. No one bathes in sound more than struggling musicians. If schools don’t help kids dive into some form of art themselves, their lives are likely to be far less rich as a result.

4) Art Requires Personal Investment & Risk

There have been a few prodigies throughout history when it comes to various artistic endeavors, but the vast majority of us start by playing an instrument badly, writing embarrassing stories, acting atrociously, or painting amateur messes with as much fervor as we can muster. For the vast majority of humans, art requires diving in with complete commitment and producing total crap at first.

Any parent who’s ever attended a child’s dance recital, middle school orchestra performance, school play, or first soccer game knows this. The best painters, singers, and writers in the world have long histories of necessary failures along their roads to success. Far more of us have even longer trails of mediocrity and mixed results which may never lead to fame and fortune.

If you’re an educator or informed parent, you know where I’m going with this. Failure is an essential part of learning. Period. This is just as true of bowling, origami, or street magic as it is of argumentative essays. Falling short allows us to get better. To adjust. To try again. In doing that, we develop confidence. Perseverance. “Grit.”

People who never take risks or who’ve never been allowed to experience their own failures usually end up – well, you know how they end up. You’ve watched it happen enough by now to know.

5) Art Brings Joy

Finally, our artistic endeavors – whatever their form – have a way of periodically producing something really cool. We nail that one musical passage. We write that one great paragraph or post. We paint or sculpt or photograph that one thing that brings us joy, or fulfillment, or which provokes others in some important way.

We shine.

That’s pretty good for our perseverance and grit as well, but more importantly, it’s wonderful. It’s art. It’s magic. And for a moment, it makes this fallen, stupid world beautiful. It makes us beautiful. It makes everything else worth it… just for a moment.

If that seems overstated to you, or unnecessarily melodramatic, or even a bit flaky, they may I respectfully suggest you consider taking up an instrument? Or a paintbrush? Or a pen? Join a local drama club? Write a short story? Sing along with a favorite song? It will probably do you some good, even at this point in your life.

Too bad no one pushed you to get more involved in the arts when you were in school.

Accountability vs. Opportunity

June 1, 2022June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 3 Comments

One of the coaches in my district approached me last week and asked if I had a moment to talk about a few students. Each of them had come pretty close to passing my class but had fallen short largely due to things entirely within their control – not turning in study guides for easy points, not participating in review sessions, etc.

While my interactions with this particular coach had always been friendly enough, we don’t really know each other all that well. He was clearly concerned about how he came across, repeatedly reassuring me that he wasn’t asking me to do anything I didn’t think was appropriate. Once we got past the pleasantries and multiple disclaimers, his basic question was this: would I be willing to revisit these students’ grades and see if there was some “wiggle room”… if maybe they might be made eligible to play ball next year?

I can hear some of your reactions even as I type. How dare he! That’s what’s wrong with high school athletics! How will these kids ever learn responsibility with these sorts of people enabling them?!? The gall! The moxie! The fruvous! And I get it – that’s probably how I would have reacted only a few short years ago.

Three things stopped me from immediately saying no.

The first was how graciously he approached the issue. He wanted to make sure there was nothing suggesting pressure from him or anyone else to do anything I might be uncomfortable with or consider unethical – and I think he meant it. These kids weren’t athletic superstars or anything. I teach freshmen, and while they may have potential, none of them are critical to the success of anything happening on a track, field, or court next year. In his mind, it was about what being involved and playing sports MIGHT do for them overall – including, but not limited to, academically.

He was genuinely interested in listening to and answering my questions and hearing my thoughts on the issue beyond “yes” or “no.” Once I understood what he was asking me, I think I said something like, “So… I guess what this comes down to is what has the best chance of being good for these kids. Is it the tough lesson of failure and natural consequences thereof? Or is it the potential learning experience that occurs when part of a team struggling together to get better?” That’s the point at which he relaxed. Even if I said no to some or all of them, he seemed relieved that we at least shared a basic conception of the issue.

The second reason I considered his question is that the kids in question are genuinely good kids, at least most of the time. They’ve each shown flashes of far more ability than their grades would suggest. I know something of their hopes and visions for their futures, and while ambitious, they’re all certainly plausible. (None of them are counting on the NBA or YouTube stardom to get them through adulthood.) These weren’t kids with a 12% or a history of serious discipline problems; they just didn’t always show the focus or determination one might hope.

These were also kids who might have made better academic choices if they had a bit more of a foundation of good decision-making on which to build. There’s nothing stopping them from being that success story who prevails against the odds, but not everyone lives on the front end of the Bell Curve. Some kids respond to their circumstances by fitting into their circumstances. Maybe they could use a different sort of nudge.

Finally, there was my stubborn belief in the power of extracurriculars in kids’ lives. I’ve had the honor of working closely with too many coaches to buy into most stereotypes of their priorities or abilities. Sure, there are some bozos – but that’s true of any position in public education. Thankfully, those are generally the exception rather than the rule. Educators sign up to coach for the same reason others sign up to teach English or AP Calculus – they want to help kids.

The district I was in for many years in Oklahoma had a massive athletic program, a huge marching band, a semi-professional drama team, and so on. There were certainly a few times I could have lived with fewer pep assemblies or some more balanced scheduling. For the most part, however, one thing was all but certain about students involved in extracurriculars: they passed their classes and they graduated.

I can’t guarantee they always loved learning in all its forms, but they cared very much about grades and doing well academically. Some of this was about eligibility, but it was also about the culture of being involved. It was a positive sort of peer pressure – a “be true to your school” kinda vibe. I don’t want to oversell it; there were still problems here and there. Overall, though, I’d rather push for kids to get involved in SOMETHING than hope they’ll spend an extra hour a night doing homework instead.

If that were even a real dichotomy, I mean.

So the question before me was one of probabilities and teacher philosophy. Coach was quite transparent about the fact that he couldn’t guarantee anything either way. While he hoped he’d be able to work with these kids as they continued through high school, there was no certainty they’d stay on the team. Playing or not, there was no way to know if they’d take advantage of the extra support and improve academically going forward. It’s possible I might nudge their grades up a few percentage points and all I’d be doing was feeding their delusions about how school works.

On the other hand, I could hold the line and they’d fail a required class, rendering them ineligible to play. I’ve had students for whom that would be a painful but powerful lesson – pulling a 58% in a class they could have easily passed, then taking the natural consequences. It’s just that I’m not sure these are those students.

That sort of resilience requires a support system, or at least some personal experience with overcoming obstacles or riding out the storm or whatever. One of the most difficult things about working with kids from marginalized backgrounds is that they haven’t all developed much resilience because they haven’t experienced true “winning” very often – if ever. One of the biggest struggles my district faces is getting kids to come to school in the first place, especially if they’re not passing anything.

Failure can be a powerful teacher. I believe in the positives of failure. But it doesn’t work the same way or mean the same thing to everyone. Sometimes it’s just one more failure.

There was one other reality to consider. While there’s no doubt in my mind any of these kids could have passed my class with a little more effort, the true difference between a 57% and a 61% is painfully subjective and impacted by any number of factors. I’d love to tell you that my English instruction and assessment is so data-driven and pedagogically holy that every tenth of a percentage point reflects a very specific level of skills and knowledge in each student, but in reality most of it’s just a matter of showing up, turning in work, and being receptive to teacher suggestions so that next week’s writing is a bit better than last week’s.

English matters. Grammar and effective communication and close reading are all important, not just in academic contexts, but in life and in many professions and in terms of personal fulfillment. Then again, teamwork also matters. Learning the importance of individual effort while remaining part of a group matters. Persevering and struggling to get better at something matters. The thrill of victory and the agony of flying off that ski slope week after week matter. The unique relationships kids have with coaches which are never quite the same as they have with other teachers – those especially matter.

So what would be best for these specific kids? What would have the greatest chance of setting them up for success – not just next year, but in years to come? What’s the ethical thing to do? The professional thing to do? The right thing to do?

If the answer seems obvious, I respectfully suggest you’re missing something.

If I do it, I told my colleague, the students would have to be fully informed of the decision (as opposed to thinking they’d somehow “slid by” at the last minute). This isn’t about wanting credit for the decision (I’m not sure enough of myself to feel too pious about it). It’s about wanting them to understand the reasoning behind it and the opportunity they have to take advantage of the moment. “There are adults in this building who believe you have better things in you than what you’ve shown so far and who want to give you the chance to express them. We’re trying to open the door a bit; what you do with it is up to you.”

Apparently this was already part of his approach. Go figure.

I don’t like different rules for different kids, even if it means opportunity for some of them. On the other hand, if I’m going to be wrong, I’d rather it be because I was too hopeful – too optimistic about the possibilities.

I chose the lady over the tiger this time. I nudged the grades up a few points. I’m comfortable with the decision, but not overly so – certainly not enough to insist it’s what anyone else should do. I hope they make the most of it.

Heathers: The Musical

May 28, 2022June 12, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful.
I pray, I pray, I pray for a better way
If we changed back then, we could change again
We can be beautiful…
Just not today.
(“Beautiful,” from Heathers: The Musical)

I’ve been fixated on Heathers recently, probably because the musical version has been revived and is currently running in London’s West End. Many of you no doubt remember the 1989 movie starring Winona Ryder and Christian Slater, a film which sparked an undying love for Doris Day (“Que Sera Sera… whatever will be, will be…”), even though she didn’t sing the version used in the film, and which elevated Shannon Doherty to a level of pop culture credibility even Beverly Hills 90210 couldn’t destroy.

Not long before we left Oklahoma, I came across a promo for Heathers: The Musical being staged by a local troupe at the Tulsa PAC (in, um… one of the ‘smaller’ theaters hidden within). My wife and I went, and while she was underwhelmed, I was immediately hooked. This was one of the darkest, most joyful, shameless, full-of-hope productions of anything I’d ever experienced.

Also, there was a rather clever song about testicles which shouldn’t have worked, but totally did. Kudos to the lads who managed to sell THAT one musically and comedically.

It turns out the show had run Off-Broadway for several years to mixed reviews, starting way back in 2014. Much like the movie, it’s a dark comedy which exploits murder, suicide, homophobia, and teen sexcapades (including attempted date rape) for laughs alongside an almost preachy sort of moralizing. Apparently not everyone loves that.

Come back girl, now don’t play hurt – if you don’t want me starin’, why you wearin’ that skirt?
We can’t be tamed and we can’t be blamed; it’s all your fault that we’re inflamed!
‘Cause once, you were grody and grotty – now you’ve got a body like a Maserati!
Stroke my fur, make me purr! Hey! You wanted to be popular!
You’re welcome – look where you are…
You’re welcome, come get your football star!
You’re welcome – you’ve joined the pros.
Once we squeeze you, you’ll stay squoze.
You’re welcome!
(“You’re Welcome,” from Heathers: The Musical)

For the record, our protagonist escapes that particular situation then murders them both. But, you know… in a fun way.

Dark or not, the messaging of the various musical incarnations is far more overtly positive than the film. Veronica (the protagonist, played by Winona Ryder in the original) is less bad-ass and more earnest, and several supporting characters come across more sympathetically than they did without all the singing. Some of the songs have to grow on you, but are generally at their best when overly ambitious. That ‘shamelessness’ I referenced earlier applies to the sunshiny bits as much as it does the dark humor – and in my opinion, somewhat sanctifies itself in the process.

I don’t seem to be entirely alone in this assessment. Not only is the show doing quite well in London at the moment, but it’s managed to remain oddly popular with high school drama classes and other local-type thespians. Demand was such that the creators eventually produced a separate, PG-ish version for use in settings where repeated uses of f-bombs and slang for various sexual organs might prove distracting. Clearly there’s something about this show that speaks to the high school experience powerfully enough that drama teachers around the country keep going to their principals to explain why they’re inviting parents to a production with such a high mortality rate and a liberal use of language which under normal circumstances could get you suspended for bullying (or arrested for hate crimes).

There are also several English-as-a-second-language versions out there that will really rock your afternoon, if you’re so inclined.

That said, it’s certainly not everyone’s cup of pathos, and I won’t take it personally if you end up not loving it in the same way. (My wife and I don’t agree about this movie or this musical at all, but we seem to still be getting along OK. Love means learning to accept that sometimes she’s just plain wrong about big, important things.) What’s more interesting to me at the moment is why this particular musical resonates with me as strongly as it does.

I’m reasonable enough to recognize that despite the passion of its fans, this show is no Waitress, Hamilton, or Something Rotten. So what is it that keeps me searching YouTube for poor quality videos of high school productions or sketchy rehearsal footage from abroad? Why have I twice spent actual money for bootlegs not nearly as good as what I can find online for free?

I think it’s all that scarred, broken, but ubiquitous hope shining out through the sleaze.

Now, I say my boy’s in heaven, and he’s tanning by the pool.
The cherubim walk with him and him, and Jesus says it’s cool!
They don’t have crime or hatred, there’s no bigotry or cursin’ –
Just friendly fellows dressed up like their favorite Village Person!
Well, I used to see a homo and go reachin’ for my gun –
But now I’ve learned to love – I love my dead gay son!
(“I Love My Dead Gay Son,” from Heathers: The Musical)

More specifically, my affection for this twisted musical stems from three basic sources…

First, there’s the whole “high school is brutal and terrifying” element which runs throughout. Even the popular and powerful kids are full of fears, insecurities, and foibles. We all know this – it’s not exactly news. But it’s portrayed so vividly here that it plucks my little educator heartstrings. While handled differently, it reminds me in many ways of the first three seasons of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. In that world, typical high school struggles manifested as literal monsters for Buffy to, um… “slay.” In Heathers, those same struggles are simply hyperbolized, making the execution of various antagonists a bit harsher than watching Sarah Geller stake demons, vampires, or those rubbery fish-boys who ate the school nurse.

Either way, however, it’s worth remembering that when you’re seventeen, the stuff that’s happening to you in the cafeteria or at the dance may genuinely be the WORST thing that’s ever happened in your life to that point. Minimizing high school trauma – like belittling high school relationships – is ignorant and elitist. I’d also argue that when it comes to artistic expressions of that trauma – be it Sixteen Candles or Carrie – it’s important to recognize the difference between hyperbolized fiction and actually promoting homicide or romanticizing death. It’s art offering commentary on life… not a documentary or public service announcement. (You can tell by all the singing and the way the actors dress differently to play multiple roles.)

Deep inside of everyone there’s a hot ball of shame
Guilt, regret, anxiety – fears we dare not name
But, if we show the ugly parts that we hide away
They turn out to be beautiful by the light of day!
Why not shine, shine, shine a light on your deepest fears?
Let in sunlight now and your pain will disappear!
Shine, shine, shine – and your scars and your flaws
Will look lovely because you shine!
(“Shine A Light,” from Heathers: The Musical)

Second, I love the idea that hope and acceptance and making life suck less often means the most when done by messed up people in small, inadequate ways. I don’t think it’s much of a spoiler (it’s been over thirty years, after all) to reference the famous ending of the 1989 movie in which Veronica invites Martha (an outcast who botched her own suicide attempt) to rent some movies and make microwave popcorn. The musical closes on a similarly humble note. The massive celebratory group number is effectively post-curtain; the actual denouement (and the antidote to interpersonal horror) is an act of individual kindness and personal refusal to play those reindeer games.

We live in dark times. There are voices still insisting we can change the big problems, and maybe they’re right. It’s worth being reminded, however, that many of the most important things we can do start with much smaller acts. If I were going to start a religion, I’d probably focus on this sort of thing – the feeding, healing, helping, and encouraging of those most marginalized. (It’s a terrible way to take over the world, however, so I doubt it would ever catch on.)

The point is, Heathers – for all its hyperbole and theatrics – is anchored in small, one-on-one human relationships. It’s about the importance of how you speak to people at lunch or how you treat them when they do something embarrassing. These things are huge… because they’re small.

Everyone’s pushing. Everyone’s fighting.
Storms are approaching – there’s nowhere to hide.
If I say the wrong thing, or I wear the wrong outfit
They’ll throw me right over the side.
I’m hugging my knees and the captain is pointing –
Well, who made her captain?
Still, the weakest must go…
The tiniest lifeboat, full of people I know.
The tiniest lifeboat, full of people I know.
(“Lifeboat,” from Heathers: The Musical)

Finally – and I’m not necessarily proud of this one – I like how untethered it is by concerns of propriety or its own potential to offend pretty much anyone. While I’m weary and horrified at the ugliness of our political leaders, religious organizations, and societal spokespeople, I’ve never been able to get too worked up by “offensive” comedians or other artists. I’m not saying I find them all funny or enjoyable, or that I want my tax dollars to pay for crucifixes to get dunked in urine or whatever. There are plenty of people whose comments don’t interest me and whose words or music I find trite and desperate.

Nevertheless, I’m not a huge fan of censoring or shutting down voices I find problematic. Boycott those sponsors and label those lies when appropriate, but I can’t very well throw fits on social media about this or that joke, song, film, or tweet I found loathsome while lamenting the neo-book-burning recently begun by the Republican Party in schools across America. I realize not all speech is constitutionally protected and not all expressions should remain commercially profitable. I’m not ready to tattoo Protocols of the Elders of Zion on my bare butt and run through the mall naked “on principle” – but neither will I discourage true artists from questioning and challenging us via their art.

Plus, I suppose I love a good bit of juvenile snark when well-applied in service of the greater good. And, in the end, that’s what Heathers is all about. Hope in the midst of hell – even when that hell includes high school.

{Minor Update – The London version of Heathers: The Musical is streaming for free on Roku. You don’t have to buy anything or subscribe to anything to watch it. There are some updates to the show which aren’t important for first-timers to recognize, but it’s a high-quality live recording if you’re curious what I’m carrying on about. And just in case your’e wondering, I’m not getting anything out of this. Shockingly, I’m not that central to the British Musical scene.}

8 Lessons For White Teachers In “Urban” Schools

May 18, 2022June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

I wrote recently about some of the challenges of being an old white guy from a non-descript middle-class background teaching in a high-poverty, majority-minority school. My goal was to be honest about some of the difficulties without veering into whining or – worse – appearing to criticize my kids. Whatever my struggles, they pale (if you’ll pardon the expression) compared to many of theirs.

It’s in that same spirit that I’d like to share some end-of-the-year thoughts for anyone who might find themselves in a similar situation at some point, either as a newbie teacher or as an experienced educator moving into an unfamiliar district. I offer no data, no documentation, and no guarantees – merely hard-won insights based on my subjective experiences.

Still, let’s be honest – I’m much, MUCH wiser than most of those “real” experts, so let’s just assume this list is canon until proven otherwise.

(1) You Don’t Actually “Get It”

My first year here, a veteran teacher (also white) took me aside and told me to read the books and go to the workshops and do everything I could to understand my kids, but to recognize that we’ll NEVER be as “woke” as they are. “You and I will never quite understand what it’s like to be in their worlds, and if you pretend you do, they’ll see right through you.”

This was (and is) good advice, whatever your demographic details. Do the reading. Pay attention to the conversations. Understand the research. But don’t presume you “get it” unless their world was your world first.

(2) Own Your Biases & Assumptions

Repeat this to yourself out loud at least once each day before you head to work: “I may not think so, but I have biases. I make assumptions and form generalities which are sometimes incorrect. This is a natural, human thing to do and doesn’t make me a bad person – but it can hinder my efforts to be a good teacher unless I’m careful. What should I be questioning about my own thoughts or feelings today?”

Here’s an easy example: many of my students like rap and hip-hop (are those even different things these days?) A significant minority, however, prefer K-Pop, 90’s-era grunge, or some other genre not normally associated with “those kids.” If I simply assume they all like rap and hip-hop, it builds unnecessary barriers from something I’d hoped would build connections. Something with a bit more bite: for years, I’ve called students by their last names – “Mr. ___” or “Miss ___” as a sign of respect and an attempt to elevate expectations. Here, this produces outraged reactions and verbal hostility beyond what I ever could have imagined. This is not hyperbole – it’s a very consistent reaction among 90% of my students when I slip up and forget. Whatever my intentions, it simply doesn’t mean to them what I think it should mean – so I adjust.

It’s actually not that difficult to avoid egregiously offensive stereotyping (assuming you’re not clueless or a complete tool). It’s the little things that catch you off guard and trip you up. Even if you don’t offend or horrify anyone, you’ll feel silly and it won’t do much for that whole “rapport” thing you’re going for.

(3) You Need Thick Skin.

This is true of teaching in general, but (as I wrote about a few weeks ago) broken kids tend to radiate anger and hurt and fear and other emotional concoctions I can’t even properly identify.

It’s fairly rare in my building for a kid to lash out at a teacher directly. I’ll get “attitude” or the occasional snub when attempting to speak to someone (usually from kids I don’t actually have in class, and thus with whom I have little or no relationship). From time to time a student will unexpectedly dig in on something small and escalate the situation past what seems reasonable, but these are separate events to be managed – not an ubiquitous feature of the environment.

In my experience, it’s the sheer volume and intensity of the unspoken emotions which can be crippling. I don’t want to sound overly mystic or touchy-feely, but the real challenge isn’t usually specific kids with specific attitudes, expressions, or behaviors I can identify – it’s the intangible waves of doubt and anger and injustice and posturing and uneasiness.

(4) Be Consistent (Within Reason)

This is a biggie in almost any classroom situation, but I’d argue it’s exponentially more important with kids from broken backgrounds and disenfranchised demographics. If you’re strict about the rules, be the same level of strict every day, with every student, as best you can without obvious harm. If you’re lax about late work, be the same amount lax throughout the year whenever feasible. Perhaps most importantly, leave your personal emotions in the car and be the person they need you to be no matter how you really feel that day.

Teenagers in general have an exaggerated sense of injustice – and my kids take this to whole new levels. They also tend to take things far more personally than other groups. Let a teacher be absent for a few days without providing a good reason (in the eyes of their kids) and even the students who don’t like them begin wrestling with abandonment issues. Speak more harshly than you intend or overlook a question in the middle of a chaotic moment and you might as well have slapped them right in the id.

This doesn’t mean you can’t hold kids accountable or that you should never adjust based on circumstances. Just remain aware of anything which might be perceived as “unfair” and be prepared to justify it to yourself, your kids, and anyone up the chain.

(5) Don’t Expect Consistency In Return.

This, too, can be a “teenager” thing no matter what their demographics. It seems far more volatile with my current kids, however, than with groups I’ve had in the past, not just in terms of attendance, behavior, or academics, but emotionally as well. It’s like they’re controlled by dozens of internal game show wheels constantly being re-spun to see what comes out next.

I have a young lady who rarely (if ever) makes the slightest attempt to participate in anything educational. She’s not always disruptive, but neither will she go through the motions with us just to be cooperative. When I make an effort to speak to her during more relaxed moments (just as I do with most kids from time to time) she’s often resentful, bordering on rude. On the other hand, when I leave her alone for more than a day, she asks me why I’m “ignoring” her and sounds genuinely offended.

Today after school, a young man I don’t remember ever seeing or speaking to saw me in the hall, called my name, then gave me a quick combination fist-bump-bro-hug-finger-snap-something that caught me completely off guard. I think I hid my surprise pretty well, but I still don’t know what I did to earn the exchange.

(6) Be Kind (Not Soft)

Some groups respond well to sarcasm and abuse as a love language. I was brutal to my suburban freshmen (of all colors), but no matter how cruel I managed to be, they ate it up and decided it made us “tight.” My current kids can be quite ugly with one another without seeming to take it badly, but I know instinctively (and without any doubt) that it would be a terrible idea for me to join the dozens. I can be a good teacher and develop productive relationships with my kids without sharing the dynamics they have with our security team (all of whom are Black) or some of the other staff. It’s not about me proving anything or earning “wokeness” bonus points; it’s about what’s best for the kids in front of me.

I’ve raised my voice to a full class a few times throughout the year when necessary to get their attention, but it’s my conviction that there are few – if any – situations in which an old white man yelling at individual students of color will lead to better outcomes. Maybe it’s the mamby-pamby liberal in me, but I just can’t stomach it. Plus, I’m not sure anger or hostility (no matter how strategic) is particularly effective with any demographics, at least these days. Maybe they never were.

Be firm. Follow through on consequences. Expect the best. But recognize that the sort of posturing or emotional responses which might be excusable (if not ideal) in other circumstances may do irredeemable damage to your relationship with those already marginalized – and possibly to the kids themselves.

(7) Don’t Patronize

Under no circumstances should you try to be cooler or hipper or more “down with the kids” than you truly are. If you actually play that video game, love that album, or eat that food, then bond away when situationally appropriate. But dear god, PLEASE don’t try to use slang you don’t fully understand or emulate speech patterns which are not your own. I’m not suggesting you have to maintain a commitment to the Queen’s English or refuse to learn their language in order to improve communication; I’m merely pointing out what a bad idea it is to be disingenuous – however noble your intentions.

They’ll eventually explain to you anything you’re not understanding about their slang or their approach. Enjoy those moments, but don’t think they free you up to make a fool of yourself.

(8) It’s Not Personal.

As with much on this list, this is a good thing to keep in mind with any students in any situation, but it’s particularly apt with underserved kids. Some days, you’ll feel like you’re making progress and developing some good communication; the next day, they want nothing to do with you or your (seemingly) pointless lessons. If you rely on positive interactions to sustain you, you’ll find yourself deflated by negative feedback or disengaged days. There’s a messy balance between “reading the room” enough to adjust what you’re doing for maximum effectiveness and the need to simply push ahead with what you know to be right even when they’re giving you nothing to draw on.

Keep talking to your peers (the good ones, anyway). It’s OK to vent as long as you soon come back around to the things in your control and your professional and ethical commitments to figuring out what’s best for the young folks in your care – whether they love it or not. Don’t be afraid of asking for help with uncomfortable issues, but neither should you assume that every awkward moment or frustrating interaction is about race, or poverty, or culture, or whatever. Sometimes teaching is just weird and people are just complicated.

Especially teenagers.

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