During the school year, it’s a thousand things plus the shootings.
In the summer, it’s just the shootings.
During the school year, as my privilege allows, there is so much else—a thousand other stories and tasks to clutter my mind. There’s this student’s sudden homelessness, and that boy’s rage, and this teacher’s distress about that boy’s rage, and this student’s Physics grade, and this student’s allegation of sexual harassment, and the investigation, and this girl’s Advanced Placement exam, and Math curriculum alignment, and this student’s mother’s addiction, and a ceremony to plan, or this meeting, and the next assembly, and then school closed for the shooting threat.
The school year is busy. But with summer comes more time to hear the dissonance and silence.
Now that it’s summer, the steady pulse of violence against children beats louder between my ears and at the back of my eyes. July brings more time to sit with the picture of the child washed up on the beach. More time to hear the news from the border, again and again and again, and hear the crying children. More time to lie in bed in the morning, with the image of the boy falling as he runs from the police, his body folding, playing again across my eyelids, my own sons still asleep.
In the summertime I go to conferences, where I hear educators champion student “efficacy” and “voice.” Rarely is there ever any mention of democracy or justice. Equity is the word we’ll hear; it’s as close as most of us get to an ideal like justice or democracy.
Student voice for what? Efficacy for what?
The answer these conferences seem to offer, in air-conditioned rooms with trays of cookies and souvenir water bottles, is that we must honor the whole child and help each student reach his or her fullest potential.
And that’s it.
The answer’s not wrong; it’s just incomplete. Cultivating each student’s voice matters, but we need to recognize why. Individual agency—the idea that young people feel worth and power when their voices are honored—is clearly a part of it. But there are other reasons, as well.
He gave language to his needs and hopes. He said he was confused and afraid. He said that over and over.
We need to recognize—and celebrate—the ways that students can use their voices to create a more just and democratic society. I am not saying that we should see any one child as a means to a social end. I am saying, however, that the act of teaching the child is, in a democratic society, about more than any one individual child.
A healthy democracy requires that diverse voices engage in civil, civic discourse and that the habits of citizenship be intentionally practiced and learned. When young people in our schools practice these habits it must include nothing less than the work of solving our most pressing problems.
We can’t stop with a simple assertion about the value of the whole child because we can’t untangle children from the world they live in. At some point, every afternoon, the whole child has to walk out of the classroom door.
Earlier this summer, after Antwon Rose was killed, his mother shared with the world a poem he’d written. In it, he gave language to his needs and hopes. He said he was confused and afraid. He said that over and over.
He used his voice. Why do we stay silent?
Fear is one reason: fear of controversy, fear of parents’ concerns about appropriateness, or students’ accusations of bias, or the wounds these conversations can re-open. And, for some of us, fear of our own identity, our ignorance, our isolation, our uncertainty and our complicity.
There are ways to prepare and proceed carefully with honest discussions about what’s going on outside our classrooms, but there’s no way to address the fear other than just getting started.
For guidance on facilitating tough classroom conversations, check out Let’s Talk! Discussing Race, Racism and Other Difficult Topics with Students.
If you’re looking for guidance, know that many people are already doing this work. The resources are out there, compiled, searchable, thoughtfully articulated, ready for reinvention or tailoring to your particular context. Read or re-read this powerful article by Dulce-Marie Flecha; see the paragraph that begins, “But you are not inventing the wheel.” You can find my own go-to resources, including Teaching Tolerance, in this piece.
Another resource I have read with colleagues is this Education Week interview with Beverly Daniel Tatum, in which she offers advice to K–12 school leaders:
"Embrace the conversations. Sometimes people want to avoid them. There’s a lot of hesitation sometimes to talk about race and racism in our society because people feel that it will cause conflict. But the reality is, conflict often arises because we are not talking."
For what it’s worth, please know I’ve got your back—and so do many others. Let me know if you want to discuss how to approach a critical or controversial topic. Reach out if you’d like me to talk with your principal about the work you are envisioning.
Educators cannot stay silent about the broader social contexts in which we work. At our conferences, in our lesson plans, at the photocopier and in the hall, it’s time for us to embrace these conversations.
Hawkes is principal at Randolph Union Middle/High School in Randolph, Vermont. You can follow him on Twitter @ElijahHawkes.
0 COMMENTS