Angry Black Girl

February 17, 2023June 12, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

I should go ahead and admit up front that I’m probably going to say the wrong thing, or at least say something the wrong way. This is NOT an effort to play my version of the “It’s SO Hard To Be A White Guy” card. It’s hard to be ANYONE these days, but if we were to somehow rank life’s complexities by demographic categories, “Old Straight White Guy” doesn’t even make the Top 10.

At the same time, I respectfully suggest we lose something important in the conversation when we’re afraid to discuss issues, perceptions, or interpersonal dynamics for fear we’ll be misunderstood or criticized. (Honestly, if I can’t embrace criticism, I should probably reconsider maintaining a website with “Education” in the title.)

A few days ago, one of my students – a Black girl around 16 or 17 – came to my room during my planning period. She was on her way to the office but wanted to vent about another teacher. While our faculty is more diverse than most, this particular educator also happens to be a straight white male.

If you’re in education, you know the tricky balancing act between allowing students to express their frustrations and appearing to condone their criticisms. I listened to her, asked a few clarifying questions, and reminded myself that while she was no doubt 100% sincere in what she was saying, teenagers aren’t generally renowned for their objectivity or accuracy.

Then again, it’s not like humans of ANY age are all that reliable when it comes to factual recall of emotionally loaded situations.

She was frustrated with this teacher’s decision to give her zeroes on several assignments he believed she’d allowed her friends to copy. Between you and me, I think it’s entirely possible she’d shared the work in question with her friends. (She’s done it in my class before.) I also think it’s likely this particular teacher was frustrated by his limited options for discouraging this widespread issue in our building and may not have been overly diplomatic about it.

Neither of which I thought appropriate to share with the young lady in front of me.

It’s what I DID say that left me feeling a bit out of touch – perhaps even idiotic.

For over two decades, I’ve been a fan of focusing on what WE can control. Yes, you’re angry with your mom. You feel what you feel – and that’s OK. You’re probably not going to change HER with your outrage however – so what parts can YOU control? Yes, these district policies are inane. Experience tells me that explaining this to the same superiors who didn’t seem to understand what I was talking about last time probably won’t alter them, and may end up categorizing me as a complainer and a generally negative person. So… what things CAN I control?

I’m sure you get the idea.

It was in this spirit that I suggested to my young lady that she might accomplish more if she took a few breaths and tried to approach this particular teacher more diplomatically once she’d calmed down. I know from experience that when teenagers are argumentative, it’s easy for teachers to get defensive – especially when they’re relatively new to the profession and come from workplace worlds where civility is the norm. Maybe your superior barks at you a bit, but you’re certainly not accustomed to someone half your age speaking to you in “that tone.” In short, maybe her approach could use some tweaking…?

In and of itself, I don’t think this is bad advice. Her response, however, made me rethink my entire framework.

“I’m not gonna put on fronts just so some white man is more comfortable when I know I’m right.”

I paused for a few seconds, although it felt like several hours.

“OK, I hear you. That’s fair. I’m not suggesting you be fake or play games – I just think there’s a time and place to try the calm, ‘professional’ approach because it’s appropriate and possibly more effective. But yeah, I definitely don’t want you to feel like you have to giggle and twirl your hair so he’s more comfortable.”

It wasn’t a terrible recovery on my part, but I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole thing.

I avoided taking a position on the other teacher’s policies, although I personally don’t like mixing grades with what is essentially a discipline issue (“cheating”), but I walked with her the rest of the way down to the office and hooked her up with an administrator I hoped would help her find an appropriate solution. I can’t solve everything, but I can advocate with the powers-that-be and show my support for her as a person.

It’s not the situation itself I’m wrestling with several days later – that’s above my pay grade. What’s nagging at me is the weird tension between what I think of as legitimate social-emotional learning** and some unintended variation of “you should smile more” or “have you tried acting ‘whiter’?”

Am I trying to pacify my “angry Black girls”? If so, am I doing it for their long-term happiness and success or my short-term comfort and convenience?

And yes, this is the part where I start to worry about being misunderstood.

I don’t want any of my students (but particularly my Black girls) to feel compelled to hide their feelings or their personalities in order to accommodate others (especially white men). At the same time, helping young people learn how to communicate more effectively and manage their emotions in productive ways is an entirely legitimate function of public education. I didn’t intend to suggest that she schmooze or play games to get what she wanted from her teacher or anyone else. I thought I was helping her learn how to handle an academic situation using what I think of as academic norms.

The fact that she didn’t easily distinguish between the two may simply be a reflection of her youth and her frustration at the situation. Nevertheless, it still bothers me that anything I said could be perceived as suggesting she needed to smile more and hide her feelings. It especially bothers me that I can’t say with absolute certainty (as an old straight white guy) that there’s no overlap between the two messages – between “professional behavior is important” and “stop being yourself so much.”

Whenever we cover “Indian Boarding Schools” in the late 19th century, I point out that these institutions weren’t just about teaching Amerindian youth how to speak English or how to do math. They were about changing their clothing, their hair, their language, their cultural norms, and their very beings. They were about making them “white.” This wasn’t a secret or something we can only discern through careful historical analysis; it was their stated goal and primary reason for existing.

We no longer openly promote such values in modern public schooling, and students don’t generally live here full time by force. We don’t cut their hair or tell them what shoes to wear (er… usually). I like to think we strive for loftier things like academic engagement and intellectual inspiration, but we have practical aspirations as well. I’d love for my kids to be happy as adults, but I’d also like to see them function effectively in society. Surely there are pathways towards personal fulfillment which still allow them to pay their own bills and take care of their families.

For many of my students, their skin color is already an impediment to that. Yes, things are in many ways much better than even a few generations ago, but there’s no denying that systemic racism and socially entrenched prejudices are still very much a thing. Then there’s the hair… the first names… the vernacular… the clothing choices…

And yes, there’s the tone. The volume. The perceived attitudes.

I’M NOT CRITICIZING ANY OF THOSE CHARACTERISTICS OR CHOICES. I’m acknowledging that as a society, we still have a ways to go with absolute and unbiased acceptance of one another. I don’t want my kids to sacrifice themselves on the altar of “if only they’d bothered to get to know the real me.” I want them to revolutionize the system from the inside, as it were, by first conquering it, THEN transforming it.

But I’m not them. And I know enough history to recognize that well-intentioned white guys throughout the centuries have believed with great conviction that they “know what’s best” for the marginalized. We’ve insisted they change their voices to better match our own. Adjust their expectations to accommodate our concerns. Trust our judgment about what’s most likely to be effective with people like, well… us.

I don’t think this is evil, or intentionally racist. I believe there’s a time to be strategic about changing hearts, minds, or grades. I also don’t think the teacher who first antagonized my young lady was doing so out of racist or sexist attitudes, subconscious or otherwise. This isn’t a “good guys” and “bad guys” scenario.

It’s just that I’m no longer entirely comfortable in my long-held convictions about what it means to be “successful,” or “professional,” or even “polite.” And maybe instead of wrestling with how to best assuage our “angry Black girls,” we should work a little harder at giving them less to be angry about.

** “Social-Emotional Learning”: Conservatives have successfully loaded this term with all sorts of outrage and fear, when in reality it simply means teaching young people how to manage their own emotions and interactions with others with a little maturity so they can function in school, the workplace, or society, without responding to everything like a spoiled toddler. As the right-wing has increasingly embraced fit-throwing, name-calling, perpetual victimhood, and violence as “the moral high ground,” it’s understandable they’d be troubled by the expectation that people learn to “grow up” a bit as they age. That shouldn’t mean we’re afraid to keep talking about it.

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.

RELATED POST: A Leap of Well-Intentioned Delusion

RELATED POST: Of Assumptions and Performative Wokeness

RELATED POST: Why Don’t You Just MAKE Them?

Blue Cereal Book Review – Bound: Blogging on Gender, Race, and Culture (Tressie McMillan Cottom)

April 7, 2016June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Disclaimers

I don’t really do book reviews. There are plenty out there already, and I’m not very good at it. But that’s not the biggest problem with my attempting this one.

The real issue – at least potentially – is that I’m an old straight white guy about to share my thoughts on a collection of essays, the subjects of which often involve the annoying tendency of old straight white guys to think they deserve final critique of everything.

So the irony is a problem.

To make matters worse, just before my final edit of this particular review, I managed to annoy the book’s author on Twitter while trying to be, um… adorable. Funny. Like we’re all buds and stuff.

The kind of buds where I follow her on Twitter and she has no idea who I am and no reason to care.

But I’m an old straight white guy with conservative roots who’s been trying to get my head around an entire universe of realities of which I couldn’t even conceive, let alone accept, a decade ago – realities involving gender, race, and culture, oddly enough. I read, and I listen, but I’ll never be as educated as some of the people trying to explain it all to me, nor will I ever have their experiences as people NOT part of the asserted ‘norm’.

It’s simply not possible.

Tressie McMillan Cottom needs absolutely nothing from me. I, on the other hand, need her. And that’s where this gets even more complicated – before I even get to the review…

See, Cottom writes at a level that stretches me, but doesn’t lose me. She writes with conviction I can’t quite fathom, but which doesn’t alienate me. She uses language I can almost keep up with – sometimes I have to reread a few passages, but I get most of it eventually – without bewildering me. And she writes in a voice that continues to draw me in – without… offending? Scaring? Wounding me – at least in too unfair a way?

Yeah, that’s where it’s kinda maybe weird, because I’m not sure I’m her target audience. I AM confident she’s not lying awake at night wondering if she’s chosen her examples or modified her rhetoric just right for maximum appeal to, well… folks like me.

But the fact that someone of my background, my modest intellect, my mixed emotions anytime terms like ‘cultural appropriation’ or ‘intersectionality’ are bandied about, can learn and gain so much from this collection of essays is exactly WHY I feel compelled to push it on my old straight white cohorts – especially those who’ve found my rants and babbling so bewildering over the past year or two when it comes to issues of equity or socio-political power structures.

Cottom says it better. And she’s smarter. Knowledgeable. Legit, even – degrees and everything. She writes as an academic secure enough in her expertise not to take herself too seriously while never leaving you in doubt as to just how serious she is.

And that’s how half of a book review ends up being disclaimers questioning my right to even comment. And yet…

The Essays

Many of the essays included in Bound can be found on Cottom’s website, but were chosen for this collection at the request of regular readers. Some of them assume a familiarity with recent events you may not actually share, but it’s easy enough to pick up the general scenarios from Cottom’s commentary.

As I struggled to express earlier, Cottom’s written “voice” has a way of holding you agape while inserting hard truths straight into your paradigm. Take this bit from “The Logic of Stupid Poor People”:

We hates us some poor people. First, they insist on being poor when it is so easy to not be poor. They do things like buy expensive designer belts and $2500 luxury handbags… If you are poor, why do you spend money on useless status symbols like handbags and belts and clothes and shoes and televisions and cars?

I love effective use of tone. I try it often, and succeed at it occasionally. But not like this. The undercurrents are immediate and irresistible.

One thing I’ve learned is that one person’s illogical belief is another person’s survival skill. And nothing is more logical than trying to survive…
I remember my mother taking a next-door neighbor down to the social service agency. The elderly woman had been denied benefits to care for the granddaughter she was raising. The woman had been denied in the genteel bureaucratic way – lots of waiting, forms, and deadlines she could not quite navigate.
I watched my mother put on her best Diana Ross “Mahogany” outfit: a camel colored cape with matching slacks and knee-high boots… I must have said something about why we had to do this. Vivian fixed me with a stare as she was slipping on her pearl earrings and told me that people who can do, must do.
It took half a day but something about my mother’s performance of a respectable black person – her Queen’s English, her Mahogany outfit, her straight bob and pearl earrings – got done what the elderly lady next door had not been able to get done in over a year. I learned, watching my mother, that there was a price we had to pay to signal to gatekeepers that we were worthy of engaging…

Sometimes her world-weariness bleeds through, even as she’s analyzing events in primarily academic terms. “When You Forget to Whistle Vivaldi” addresses the death of Jonathan Ferrell, a young black man who was in a car wreck and stumbled to a nearby home for help. Frightened (white) homeowners called the police, who in typical fashion rolled up and shot the black guy without waiting to see what was going on.

Of course, the oft-quoted idiom that respectability politics will not save you is true. Just as wearing long johns is not a preventative measure against rape for women, affecting middle class white behaviors is not a protective measure but a talisman. In exerting any measure of control over signaling that we are not dangerous or violent or criminal we are mostly assuaging the cognitive stress that constant management of social situations causes.
That stress has real consequences…. When the object of a stereotype is aware of the negative perception of her, that awareness constrains all manner of ability and performance. From testing scores of women who know the others in the room believe women cannot do math to missing a sport play when one is reminded that Asians don’t have hops. The effects of stereotype threat are real…
It’s like running too many programs in the background of your computer as you try to play a YouTube video. Just as the extra processing, invisible to the naked eye, impacts the video experience, the cognitive version compromises the functioning of our most sophisticated machines: human bodies…
{For} all we social scientists like to talk about structural privilege it might be this social-psychological privilege that is the most valuable. Imagine the productivity of your laptop when all background programs are closed. Now imagine your life when those background processes are rarely, if ever, activated because of the social position your genetic characteristics afford you.

That’s a whole lotta reality in so few sentences and such academically pragmatic language. I didn’t even get defensive reading it, and that’s kinda my thing when tackling uncomfortable subjects.

Cottom’s not pointing fingers. She’s observing and analyzing, calling things as she sees them for both academic’s sake and the inherent value of honest evaluation. That I’d have to love, even if I disagreed on a few details here and there . I’m not sure I do, but it seems like I should in order to maintain a little credibility – like we’d argue collegiately over drinks or something.

In the end, Cottom may be writing in the language of degreed analysis, but her… spirit is simply nudging us to ask better questions and make better decisions. As a public educator, nothing could make me happier than for such a mindset to take wide root.

From “MOOCs, Profit, and Prestige Cartels”:

If we accept my story of profit and higher education market we get to different kinds of questions that lead to different kinds of policies. Rather than disrupting higher education because it does not serve the needs of the market we can ask the market why it does not serve the interests of human beings.
Why, as corporations increasingly use their moral authority and political will to limit their tax exposure and their contribution to social institutions like k-12 schools, why is public education being refashioned to provide them the “human capital” they require to continue their abdication of the greater social good?

Why, indeed.

Whatever Cottom’s intent, whether or not I’m accurately discerning her thinking, I’m thankful for her willingness to put it out there for the rest of us to do with as we will. Writing is inherently risky, and writing on topics so subject to inflammatory rhetoric and intentional misunderstanding is wonderfully bold.

But to do it so well – that… that’s a gift to the rest of us. Especially those of us who arguably have the least right to enjoy the fruits of such labors.

Thank you.

RELATED LINK: tressiemc.com / “Some Of Us Are Brave” {Tressie Cottom’s Website}

RELATED LINK: “To learn, we have to be social”: Talking Twitter and Teaching with Tressie McMillan Cottom {discover.wordpress.com}

RELATED LINK: Tressie McMillan Cottom on theatlantic.com {links to her writing for The Atlantic}

RELATED LINK: Tressie McMillan Cottom on dissentmagazine.org {links to her writing for Dissent}

40 Credits & A Mule, Part VI: Return of the Jedi

January 15, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

This is part 6 of 7 – some recap seems in order:

Who gets to be a ‘full’ American? Who gets suffrage, representation, and due process?

Land-owners were the initial default. Land provided opportunity, American Dream-style. It was a universal measure of personal responsibility and capability. It inculcated virtue, and perhaps won supernatural favor. And, finally, it gave you a vested interest in the success of the young nation.

What began as a checklist for civic participation became the default measure of a man. What was intended to protect representative government from the incompetent or slothful became an anchor on those who didn’t fit certain checklists as of 225 years ago. You are unworthy. Not quite a full American – and thus not quite a full person.

The issue became your state of being rather than whatever rules you had or hadn’t mastered, or whatever goals you hadn’t met. It was self-perpetuating and self-reinforcing. It became circular:

Presumption: You provide for yourself and your family, so you are worthy to help run the country. You own land and do responsible things? Here’s your ballot.

Evolution: You provide and are provided for – because you are worthy. You own land because you’re so responsible – here’s your halo.

I suggest we’re doing something similar with education today – both public and higher.

Consider Alyssa – a wonderful young lady in AP classes from a two-parent Methodist family. She works hard, makes good grades, stays out of any real trouble, and wants to be a neuroscientist. Obviously she deserves some credit for her accomplishments. She’s demonstrated great capability, and made good decisions.

She’s also from the right family, and – more importantly – the right ZIP code. She goes to the right school, has the right social circle, the right economic status, and the right looks. She’s the right amount healthy and she was born at the right time for her particular skill set to shine. None of these things are entirely in her control.

She’s our ‘white homesteader.’ She’s done nothing malicious in making her ‘land’ productive. She does tend to wonder what’s wrong with students who don’t do the same – not out of racism or vanity, but simply because it’s bewildering to her that anyone would not want to do well, or not be able to do well. It’s just not that hard.

Compare her to Dionne – another wonderful young lady, but one from very different circumstances. Her life might be happy enough, or it might be reality-show dysfunctional, but in any case does NOT unfold in the same universe as Alyssa’s. All of the rules are different and their experiences mutually exclusive.

Dionne’s AP Chem grade (or the fact that she’s not even taking AP Chem) reflects many things OTHER THAN her capability or choices. Her ability and agency matter a great deal as well, but they’re not sovereign.

Dionne is a beautiful black girl, descended from freedmen. Plenty of Black Americans ‘bought in’ to Anglo-American values – they sought land, self-sufficiency, education, progress, etc. But they weren’t merely denied the resources to join such a culture – they were actively punished for making progress along those lines.

This didn’t stop the dominant culture from belittling them for not matching their successes, of course. It doesn’t prevent belittling those today who at some point simply changed their priorities and dropped out of that particular value system.

In Dionne’s case the issue is not emulating prior conditions, but overcoming them.

Anders is a kid who doesn’t want to be in your class – or anyone’s class – at ALL, near as you can tell. He’s not particularly defiant, but he’s also rarely tempted to give much. It would take three of him to make one passing student. His test scores put you on lists and you’re constantly asked to send him work he’s already ignored. You go to meetings about him called by his counselor; the parent chair is always empty.

Anders is my Amerindian, although he might be Hispanic, or White, or Black, or whatever – there are racial issues wound up in these, but they’re not exclusive or always definitive. Many Amerindians had no interest in the Anglo-American value system or way of life, but they were forced to partake – and stakes were high if they failed. They lacked buy-in, but they also were denied good tools, seed, land, etc. It’s not much of a stretch to think a comparable state exists between many teenagers and whatever public school system holds them captive in 2015.

Pick something your kids spend time on that you totally don’t understand – video games, soccer, angsty music, whatever. Something you at least partly despise. Master it. Spend the hours it takes to really get decent at Call of Duty. Practice soccer until you’re good enough to compete. Consume YouTube until you want to run hot skewers into your eyes and ears to make the bad things stop!

That’s how Anders feels about Grammar, and Physics. He may be right.

I’ll add a Zack – they’re always named something like ‘Zack’ – who’s surviving AP Chem and otherwise getting by even though he’s NOT particularly bright and doesn’t have a great work ethic. He’s charismatic, knows how to play the game, and while not exactly a charlatan, succeeds more through people skills and an instinct for edu-bureaucracy than anything. He’s probably destined for administration.

Which of these are worthy? Which deserve to be a full American? To get a full ride to an elite university? Which are making the best use of the opportunities presented to them, however flawed they may be?

You’re so thankful for Alyssa – students like her give you the energy to get through the day. But how often is Alyssa essentially rewarded for her upbringing and Dionne marginalized for not ‘working hard enough’? How angry does Anders make you even though he doesn’t really do anything to you other than not be taught? Zack’s an annoying little turd, but he’s passing and no one’s mad at you because of him so… whatever.

Anders has been given very little reason to adopt the same values and goals as the rest. For all our talk of nurturing kids’ individual strengths, his just aren’t on the curriculum map – and there’s nothing you can personally do about that. Dionne may have tuned out, but no wonder – even when she does ‘buy in’, she lacks many of the proper tools and supplies, literally as well as figuratively.

And Zack… well, there’s always that kid who just does OK for reasons you never quite understand, yes?

Changing the nature of American public school won’t be accomplished by ‘higher standards’ or tougher testing. We can argue about this set of standards or that for another ten years if you like, but – and I hate to be the one to break this to you – for the vast majority of kids not currently ‘succeeding’ in our schools, it just doesn’t matter one tiny little damn.

We have a culture fundamentally shaped by our past – that’s how history works, it’s why we study it. We have generations of mostly well-intentioned peeps whose views of one another are shaped by that history. Our psyches are riddled with logical fallacies and vestigial reactions we don’t even recognize. It’s not rational, it’s not fair, and it’s sure as hell not standardized.

We have a rather narrow definition of what sort of learning is valued and tested and college and career ready, and that means a rather narrow idea of just what kind of education we’re willing to begrudgingly and inadequately finance. Our definition ignores more reality than it includes.

Meaningful change might INVOLVE academic standards and teaching strategies, but it won’t be founded on them. It’s going to be people-heavy and cliché-light. It may not even begin in school. That’s what I’ll tackle in the next and final post on this topic.

It’s taken me six parts to try to unwind my version of the problem. That leaves me exactly one last segment in which to resolve it. I’m not optimistic.

Related Post: 40 Credits & A Mule, Part I – This Land

Dear Student of Color…

November 21, 2014June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 3 Comments

I should start with a warning that I’m probably going to say the wrong thing. I know this because I often say the wrong thing – not just with you, or with other students of color, but in general. Saying the wrong thing is something of a specialty of mine.

In this situation, however, the wrong thing is more daunting than usual. Here I am, an old white guy – one of a hundred or so Caucasians staffing this school, except for one assistant principal, one para, the security guard who subs when the regular guy is gone, and of course most of the custodial staff. And I want to talk to you about race – as if I have the slightest credibility to do so. You’ll feel partially obligated to listen, but I have no idea how it will actually be received or understood.

I’d like to apologize for – well, everything. I don’t mean this sarcastically or melodramatically, and under no circumstances am I interested in riding the liberal guilt train through your limited time here and expecting you to know how to respond. I’m pretty sure, though, that I’ve said or done things in our short time together which validate everything you find annoying about old white people, or perhaps add whole new things to the list.

It’s just… I try to avoid allowing racial subject matter to carry stigma or the wrong sort of power into my classroom or my interactions with students. Embarrassed whispers and the rushed clichés do little to improve our understanding of one another or anything we’re trying to learn.

I’m also trying to stay out of the sandtrap of comfortable white avoidance. It’s dishonest to simply steer around anything inflammatory, or reduce loaded issues to pre-compartmentalized tropes. It’s far too easy to reduce the most important human realities of social studies, literature, or history to abstractions with far less power to confuse or scare us.

We distance ourselves from the strange creatures all those centuries ago capable of Indian Removal, Slavery, War with Mexico, or Japanese Internment Camps. I’m not ignoring that in some ways we’ve made huge strides towards equality and mutual respect and kumbaya – but we’re afraid to confess man’s eternal drive to camp with “us” and go to war with “them”. We tell ourselves you’re not developmentally ready to question or explore the evolutionary, social, political, or fiscal aspects of our collective urge to form teams and fight over land, food, women, cultural norms, or oblong inflated pigskins.

I’m sure in my efforts to be transparent and ‘real’ I’ve often only managed crass, or clichéd, or awkward, or just… wrong. I may make things worse as often as better, but if the alternative is to avoid these discussions altogether, I’ll keep taking that risk.

I apologize for my muddling, though, and I hope you recognize my intent if not my navigational skills.

As to race or other elements which make people more interesting, most of my understanding is second-hand. Through no control of my own, I was born a straight white male, and a fairly conservative one at that. As my preferred political party lost their collective minds over time, I drifted towards a kind of libertarian idealism… but one willing to settle for liberal efforts until some sort of educational revolution makes self-sufficiency a plausible –

You know what? I’m rambling, and I know from our last quiz that most of you don’t actually know the meaning of half of the things I just said.

What I’m getting at, though, is that it wasn’t until I started teaching that I started really caring about and trying to understand why some students act this way or that, while others are more likely to do such and such. In the abstract I have limited patience for talk of the ‘culture of poverty’ or ‘racial identity development’ – I just want anyone without a clearly defined disorder to make some effort to do their work, show a little mutual respect, and not be, you know… annoying.

But my students aren’t abstracts. Like you, they’re right here – with names and personalities and wants and needs and everything. And most of the time I really like them. My beliefs or opinions or emotional reactions to abstracts or groups of abstracts were no longer helpful.

I found I could care deeply about my students and still not ‘get’ them, which made it difficult to really fulfill that whole touch-the-future teacher thing.

That’s not always because of race, of course. White kids can make no damn sense plenty of times, and there are limitless reasons why I may grasp one kid’s world more intuitively than another’s. But clearly there are… trends. Visual clues who I’d ‘get’ and who I’d not. Even outside of class, stuff I’d hear or read began to resonate differently because they were suddenly not about abstract types of theoretical people but MY KIDS.

As you continue to read and learn and experience things, you’ll discover that “us” and “them” loses its endurance when real faces and names enter the picture. You know from our last unit how important it is to demonize and “other”-ize the enemy in times of war. Without effective propaganda and group buy-in, it’s rather difficult to get super-excited about shooting someone in the face or blowing up their family. You may have noticed that even in ‘shooter’ video games you’re generally mowing down masses of generic scary looking –

I’m getting distracted again. I’m sorry. I’m not sure I’m doing a very good job here.

I guess what I want you to know is that I’m trying. I’m reading books about racial dynamics and adolescence and trying to understand more about cultural norms and common experiences without reducing you or anyone else in my care to a category – the Asian, the Mexican, the Beautiful Strong Dark Black Girl. I’m on social media listening, asking, and sometimes annoying those I think useful. I don’t mean to annoy, but they can handle themselves – they’re of age and not my personal responsibility.

You are, at least while you’re here.

I hope you feel free to speak to me about anything related to… you know, stuff. Feel equally free NOT to speak to me about it. My ignorance may impact you, but it’s not your responsibility. You don’t owe me lessons on your world – you’re 14. That’s also why I won’t actually have this conversation with you. It’s just me and my Eleven Faithful Followers on the interwebs.

One more thing, though – something I probably WILL approach you with before the year is out. You know we have a pretty diverse group of students here. We’ve talked in class about what a huge advantage that is for us collectively, and I mean that – it’s not inspirational fluff like most of what we fill you with. But you’ve probably also noticed that, as I referenced above, we have a painful scarcity of teachers of color. I assure you the mass of old white folks running things really do mean well, but we’re somewhat limited by being, um… a bunch of old white folks.

As you move through high school and decide where to go for college… as you discover the strange mix of amazing options and inexplicable hurdles which await you… please consider teaching.

You’re one of my best – and I don’t mean “for your race” or whatever. I mean you’re quality – period. You’ll have more options than I could have imagined at your age. I’m not telling you not to follow your calling if it lies elsewhere. I’m certainly not telling you money and professional respect don’t matter, because they do – and you won’t get much of either if you teach anywhere in this beloved state.

But what you could do, if you’re so led, is to be that teacher you didn’t have. That example, that reference point, that option, that important part of the equation that we’re not nearly close enough to at the moment. I don’t know if I can promise you’ll change the world in the kind of dramatic ways we see in the movies, but – at the risk of being a little cheesy – we all change the world by what we do while we’re here. We all make “a difference”, for better or worse.

Consider making this one, better than me, for the ones who’ll be you when you’re me. Consider being amazing for them in small, thankless ways, because I wasn’t, or couldn’t, or just didn’t.

Thanks for hearing me out. You should head to class.