Articles

I love my neighborhood. On any given morning at the bus stop, I hear five different languages being spoken. While the words and sounds are different, the context is the same.

I lean against my classroom door, fielding questions about last night’s homework and passing out early morning hellos. I watch students disperse into their assigned first-period classes. As I steal a quick sip of my morning coffee, I find myself pausing at this thought: A supposedly unbiased computer system serendipitously placed our students into their respective classes, but is this all there is to mixing it up? No.

I wish I could introduce Santos to many residents in my state. Santos is a fifth-grader at my school. I want to keep him safe. He was in my classroom for the first half of second grade. His parents are migrant workers, so when the spring, summer and fall work on South Carolina farms slows and stops for the winter, they take their family to other places and look for life-sustaining employment. Over the past three years, Santos has spent part of the school years here and part away.

The sixth-graders at Roxboro Middle School tumbled through the doors and into the lunchroom, looking around for places at the tables. The security officer didn’t need a bullhorn; his voice carried.

It was more than just a change of scenery for Cole Archer. Today, he moved from his usual center lunch table to the front of the lunchroom to sit with five schoolmates he generally only sees in the halls and in classes.

Hackberry Hill Elementary takes its Mix It Up At Lunch day seriously–and so do its kids. They arrived in waves during lunch and recess on Tuesday, eager and ready for fun activities.

Raige Hollis always liked the idea of talking to classmates. In fact, he says he's "friends with everybody." So when his high school announced plans for a Mix It Up at Lunch Day, Hollis, captain of the football team and senior classman, was all in. But some of his classmates at Laconia High School in New Hampshire were less excited about sitting down to lunch with folks who were not part of their usual circles.

I was putting my 6-year-old son to bed recently when he excitedly announced that he was going to be in the school play. “Peter Pan,” he said.

As a teacher, being responsive to each child’s needs, strengths and interests requires knowing each child and the developmentally appropriate strategies for each child.

I see my cocoa brown hand grab the handle of the door. I take a deep breath. I already know what I will see and I am sure I will know what I feel. I step into the room and professionally scan the room so fast no one even knows I am doing it. It’s what I expect. I accept I am the “only one” with a tan that never goes away. I am the only African-American in the room.