I stood beside Samara, my appointed student leader, with my lips shut tight, overly expressive eyes and a dry-erase marker in hand. I was ready to respond to my students in writing on the 13th annual National Day of Silence.
Samara read T.S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. “Let us go then, you and I, when the evening is spread out against the sky like a patient etherized upon a table…”
She paused to ask, “Is it significant, the we go etherized? Who are you and I?” I marveled as she led a student analysis of the piece.
As I witnessed my students weave one another’s insights into interpretive treasures, I realized that they had just granted me the greatest compliment on that silent day—an opportunity to observe their abilities as independent thinkers and learners without my direct guidance. They could learn without me!
This is one of my fondest memories of teaching in my Atlanta school and one of my most successful days as an educator.
The previous day I had attempted to put my silence into context for students with what we Southerners often call the “Come to Jesus” talk. I explained why I chose to participate in this national day of protest. As an undergraduate student I began to think about the world and my responsibility in it. This led me towards the path of teaching social justice.
As a teacher, I now had a voice and could facilitate the asking of difficult questions. I decided to sponsor the 15-member Gay-Straight Alliance. I wanted to ensure that my students, regardless of their sexual orientation, had a safe place to exist and to thrive.
I’d hoped to find the courage to remind my administration and nearby community members that all people deserve human dignity and ought to be given the opportunity to reap the comforts of community in the place that they live.
The realities of sponsoring a GSA surfaced. Several parents voiced ill-informed counter-protests. One said that the “I’m an ally!” stickers their children wore home evidenced my encouraging their kids to “go gay.” Students reported teachers challenging their silence, disrespecting their courageous decision to take a stand.
These conflicts required me to carefully defend the school’s participation in the Day of Silence to my boss, reminding him—a good Christian man who truly loved our students—that this day was first and foremost about student safety.
I was forced as a timid new teacher, to summon strength and defend my beliefs. I thought of the innocent student lives lost at the hands of bullying and intolerance. While I was not, in fact, trying to make kids “go gay,” I was hoping to exemplify compassion and help establish a refuge in our community. The provocation from my colleagues and unfounded complaints from parents reenergized and solidified my knowledge of the necessity of GSA’s in public schools.
If our goal as educators is to cultivate a community of life-long learners, then it must also be our goal to preserve the lives of those students who we wish to support.
Cook is an English and journalism teacher in Massachusetts.
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