What to say?

Racism has once again risen to the top of the national consciousness, with the shooting in Charleston this week, as well as the consciousness in my classroom, as my 8th graders work through Monster.

On Friday we had a class discussion about how Steve (protagonist in Monster) is profiled as a black guy on trial, or a "thug," as my students said. We talked about how this comes up in the book and society. One girl raised the point that black and white criminals are treated differently by the news. After school I was scrolling through Facebook and noticed an opinion article about how black shooters are called "terrorists" and "thugs," but white shooters are called "mentally ill."

Friday afternoon we had a TFA small group session to reflect on the shooting and how to discuss it with students and coworkers. The shooting has not come up among my students yet. We were discussing racism in ELA, but a racism that stereotypes black men. If a black man had shot people this week, it would become part of this "single story" (as Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie says in her TED talk that everyone must watch if they haven't yet). But as far as I can see, Dylann Roof doesn't affect what it means for me to be white. This is wrong.

Our discussion about how to talk to students about events like this brought back a memory from student teaching. The bell had rung in 7th hour, signaling the end of the day, and most students had left, but two boys (both black) remained, as they were often wont to. One was joking around about exiting through the emergency fire door, when he spotted a police car just outside in the parking lot.

"Oh, maybe I shouldn't--I don't want to be randomly arrested," he said.

"Police don't just randomly arrest people," I said.

There was a pause. Both boys looked at me.

"Police shouldn't just randomly arrest people," I corrected.

"Yeah, or shoot people in the back," one boy added. He let out a laugh, realized that was the wrong response, and then it went silent.

So, I'm not sure how to talk to anyone about these things, besides that you listen. And probably think through what you say more before you say it. That's worked for me in most situations. And people often tell me more than I ever expected. Just be there. Ask. And then really listen.

At an earlier TFA small group discussion about race, an elementary teacher had mentioned that race didn't seem to come up in her classroom, so maybe this discussion was more relevant to relating to parents. I raised my hand and pointed out that that may be true in elementary, but it came up all the time in secondary. When I was student teaching, it felt like not a day went by that some kid didn't accuse me of being racist. I was "racist" when I told a black student to be quiet and do his work, "racist" when I told a black student, no, he couldn't go to the bathroom, because the bell was going to ring in 10 minutes, and he could go then.

"That's racist! Black people have to pee more," he told me, to which a white student added, "That's true. I went to school with a lot black people last year, so I know."

When students would lament issues of their personal lives to me, I felt for them, but I can't fully imagine what it is to go through life as a not white person. I know what it is to go through life as a white girl, and perhaps as a white woman. I know how boys and men treat me sometimes. But I cannot fully understand what it is to be a black girl on a bus.

People say that sometimes to be good at school is to be seen as "acting white." This is obviously as awful stereotype. All people are intelligent, and people of all races can excel at school. But when American school culture is so middle class white, you have to wonder a little. We need to fight that battle on both ends.

Saturday night David and I went to a concert at Levitt Shell, which hosts 50 free outdoor concerts every summer. Each concert has a sponsor, and Saturday's was a church, so the pastor made a couple of remarks before the concert began. She said that she could not go without mentioning Charleston, and how her heart was broken for the people there. She said that her church was sending origami crane prayers to Emanuel AME, "with love from Memphis," and if anyone wanted to participate, there was paper at the back.

And then we sat back and watched a beautiful sight. We watched a crowd of people, old and young, black and white (and other colors, too), get up, dance, and mingle, and celebrate being here, alive, in Memphis, together. Among my favorites were the older lady with a tambourine, the 4-year-old girl playing an air guitar, and the 2-year-old girl attempting to break dance. It reminded me of the Tales of the Kingdom book series, like this is a little bit of how we'll act on the new earth. 

Shalom,
Anneke