Thanks to the prompting of my friend Allison, another English teacher in our great state of Iowa, I published a version of my last blog post in Saturday's Des Moines Register. You can read the original blog post here and the newspaper version here. I learned a few lessons from this publishing experience, so I thought I would process that here. Revision is Hard The Register wanted 700 words, and I started with more than 900. Ironically, I repeatedly tell my writing students, "You're not married to your words." As I started pushing the backspace key, though, I felt like I was breaking marriage vows. Truman Capote once said, "I believe more in the scissors than I do in the pencil," but apparently that's easier to believe when you're preaching it to students. I eventually (and painfully!) made it to 722, and thankfully the editor agreed to make that work. Humility is Key I didn't sleep well Friday night because I knew that my op-ed would be in Saturday's paper. In the early morning hours, I tossed and turned, picturing my name in print. I woke up early to look at the online version before we purchased a print copy, and I was proud of what I saw. For some reason, I imagined that friends and family members would respond to seeing my article published. I played out fantasies of emails from hometown acquaintances and phone calls from family members. Instead I heard positive remarks from a few adoptive mom friends and teacher acquaintances. I received a few random emails (some encouraging, others not) from strangers. My dear sweet husband and children were supportive, but looking back now, my initial fantasies are laughable. If I ever attempt to publish again, I will set the bar of my expectations noticeably lower and stay ever-so humble. Writing is Brave This lesson is one I learn every time I click "post" on a blog post, but even more so, I saw this in the companion op-ed piece that was published next to mine. Elliot Smith, a high school junior from Valley High School in West Des Moines, wrote an eloquent, courageous piece about racism in his school. It's one thing for me to write about the way I see implicit bias play out in our small school, but it takes a much greater level of bravery to call out peers in a statewide publication. As a teacher, I want to see that same risk-taking in my students. Revision, humility, bravery. That might be my writing process in a nutshell. Pour it all out on paper in a brave and bloody mess, mush it around and take the scissors to it, and then share to the world with no expectations. Yes, that sounds about right. And now I'll click "post" again.
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Well, I did it. I was scared, and I couldn't predict the outcome. But still, I did it. Last Friday in my American Novel class, we talked about racism. But we didn't just talk about racism in Tom Robinson's day because we had just finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird. Instead I took my class, part of a student body that is 98% white, out of their comfort zone. This conversation followed on the heels of my introduction to this article, explaining the strong need for anti-racist curriculum in our schools. I knew that if I wanted to be an ally, I needed to use my position as a teacher, especially in a context as rich as Mockingbird. To be honest, I've been scared. This is a hot-button issue for me, one that hits close to home. I didn't know how I would react when brought face-to-face with the biases I knew many of my students cling to. Because I wanted the conversation to be perfect, my answers to be articulate, my fear caused me to avoid the issue. I was weak. Sure, we had short conversations in passing and I passed along articles to students in emails and as comments in journals, but I had never centered an entire lesson about the ways that racism exists today. That changed last week, though, at the prompting of my principal. He observed me lead a class fish bowl discussion towards the end of our reading of Lee's classic novel, and in his observation notes, he wrote, "This novel gives great opportunities to connect with current thoughts/situations dealing with discrimination and prejudice. What have you done to discuss these connections?" The answer was nothing, and I felt deeply convicted. I tucked away my fear and dug right in the next class period. First, we read this article that introduced the students to the concept of racial bias and microaggressions. We needed to read the examples and learn the lexicon that could help us in our Socratic Seminar for the day. I gave students time to read and process. Next, I introduced the question: How is racism today different from racism during To Kill a Mockingbird? This group can sometimes be reticent during discussion, but on this day they opened up. From the inside of our little homogeneous bubble, many of them admitted to being surprised by the statistics about job searches and housing and poverty. "I had no idea that you would have a harder time just getting a job interview if you were black," one usually shy girl announced. Another boy astutely observed, "I think people like to read books like Mockingbird because then they can say, 'Well, at least racism isn't as bad as it was then.'" Their eyes were being opened. Finally, I zeroed in on our own microcosm. "How do you see this play out in our school?" I asked. I asked knowing that for the past several years working in a school with very few minority students, I have watched the "token" black or Hispanic student be made into a stereotype. I watched as the lone Asian student was expected to always do well in math and science and was teased mercilessly if he didn't know an answer. I stood witness as the lone Hispanic boy laughed unconvincingly as other students joked with him about stealing cars and crossing the border. I was a bystander as a biracial student begrudgingly accepted a nickname that focused on her hair, an aspect that made her "other." Last week I watched as another black student half-heartedly laughed along as a classmate proclaimed in the hall, "Oh, it's just because you're black." One young man in our discussion that day bravely pointed out that the students laugh to minimize differences, that in a school like ours, we try to make racial differences a big joke. I prodded them. "What do we do in moments like these? What if the minority student is laughing along? Is the joke acceptable then? Why are we comfortable being bystanders?" Students told of a jazz band competition where a clinician used the derogatory term "retard." These students were shocked, but of course the man was in position of authority over them, so they remained silent. I don't judge these students for their silence. I've obviously been silent, too. But the question remains: How can we ALL do better? This time we had the conversation. We scratched the painful surface and sat in our discomfort. It wasn't a perfect conversation, and I was frustrated at some of their answers and preconceived notions. And like many conversations like this, we presented more questions and provided few answers, but still we talked. Even now the topic settles here in my classroom, like a dust we can't escape, one we shouldn't escape. Studies show that children as young as four are noticing and sorting according to differences. Our seemingly innocuous "colorblind" approach is clearly not working, especially in places like my current school where we have few minority students. As a parent and an educator and a human, I implore my fellow parents, teachers, and humans: We must have these conversations. We must talk to our young people about race. Our country's problems will not go away with silence. Decades of proof stand in testimony to that. It might not be perfect, and it might even be scary. We might not get the results we want. But we need to open the dialogue. Let's start today. It's a new semester and a new group of students participating in Write Whatcha Want Wednesday (#WWWW), and I'm beyond excited.
Given an authentic audience, freedom, and time, my students radiate brilliance. More students created themed blogs this semester, so the students are really getting a chance to show off their passions. Some examples: Kenny is writing about survival. Morgan is writing about tattoos. Thor is writing about all science-related topics. Jayden is writing about a fictional trip around the world. Shaelyn is exploring her faith. You can follow along with all of our blogs using this Symbaloo. Part of my English 2 curriculum includes reading from independently selected reading books during the beginning of class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. (Tuesdays and Thursdays are reserved for class journals.) Because I want students engaged with these texts, I also periodically have them create something associated with their selected books. Last semester it was an idea borrowed from Lessons with Laughter and this Highland Virtual Learning Wikispace. My students created book trailers in an attempt to "sell" their book to other readers. We used Animoto (with the educational license) and went through a production process together. Here's the handout of instructions that I shared with my students. After their trailers were complete, students created and printed QR codes for their trailers and celebrated together by watching their classmates' projects. Now their books and codes are displayed outside my classroom in our class "Readbox." Students were engaged and committed to their learning during this project. Not only did they walk away with a greater understanding of their books, but they also learned more about the art of persuasion and the importance of tone. Additionally, they have another technology tool to use in the future. We did this project the week leading into semester tests, so the timing probably wasn't the best. I'm proud of their efforts, though, and I love having the colorful display outside of my room. This is definitely a project I will use again in the future. Here's Marilyn's book trailer for City of Bones. Here's Emily's book trailer for Paper Towns. Here's Jeremiah's book trailer for The Kill Order. |
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September 2020
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