This past weekend I had the privilege of attending the National Coalition of Teachers of English (NCTE) national convention here in Atlanta. After taking about 24 hours to digest everything I've seen, heard, learned, and discussed, I've come to one conclusion...
I am emotionally exhausted.
The theme of this weekend was "Faces of Advocacy," and we watched this video. (It's nothing graphic, but it will leave you feeling a bit uncomfortable). We then had a discussion about bystanders vs. upstanders (hint- upstanders stand up). As I watched that video the second time through, I kept thinking about how much I'd like to go up to the projector and turn it off. It made me extraordinarily uncomfortable. With how high-speed our world is, just as quickly as I can turn something on, I can turn it off. As I sat at a table with educators discussing our reactions, another woman turned and said, "I'm so guilty of this with the news. I turn it off when stories are shown that make me sad or angry." I do this all of the time. Now, there are certain things I need to emotionally protect me from that can trigger me, but for the most part, I don't watch/listen because I don't want to know.
Privilege is a word that's been circulating quite frequently lately. I could go right on ahead and provide a list of the types of adversities I've faced in my life, but in truth, I've led a blessed life. When we lost my dad, my mom's friends swooped in and took care of so many things, many of which I'm just learning about. Our neighbors fed us for months and took care of me after school. My mom, sisters, and I grew closer as a family.
I've always had a roof over my head and food in my belly. I grew up in a house filled with books, with parents and grandparents who read constantly. I went to good schools. I got to dance in large part to the owners of the studio who helped make that happen. My parents made it possible to go on vacations. I joined Girl Scouts where I got to swim with manatees, go caving, learn about Savannah and Charleston history, and so much more.
I was never denied this opportunities because of the color of my skin or the economic bracket will fell in to. We may not be wealthy, but my mom was always able to make things happen.
I take this privilege with me into the classroom. I will say, for the most part, my students do have opportunities many do not. Our school receives the proper funding to go on field trips, and we are able to provide our students with the items necessary to be successful in school. My school is not located in a low economic area. I do, however, teach many students of color, and I teach a large population of young African American males. And every time I hear about something on the news I think, "How am I going to talk about this with my boys?"
I was called racist 3 times last year, and it shook me to the core. In all 3 of these instances it was because I had to call home over a disciplinary issue. Jason Reynolds, an author/activist spoke this weekend about a teacher who made an impact on him. He said she was strict and that he called her a racist when she really wasn't. I often think, "if only these parents knew how many tears I shed over their boys. I see their sons on a daily basis, and in some ways, they're my boys, too." It takes me swallowing a big slice of humble pie and realizing that in calling me racist, some of these parents think they're protecting their sons.
The truth is, I am a white, middle class female. Yes, there are ways in which I am not privileged simply because I am a female, but there are so many ways in which I am. I stay off of social media posts about race because I often think about what I can add to the discussion. I don't know that fear. I've never walked in those shoes. However, as a Language Arts teacher, I am in a position of privilege to have discussions with my students. We all will have to acknowledge the fact that I'm certainly not the end all be all, but just because I haven't lived these experiences doesn't mean that I can't be a facilitator of a discussion.
By nature, I am a feeler. I very much feel other people's emotions and I bring them home with me. This adds even more to my ability to tune out the ugly in this world. I'm reading a book right now called Copper Son by Sharon Draper about a young girl who is torn from her village in Africa to become a slave in pre-revolutionary America. I have cringed. I have cried. This is someone's history, and it could very well be the history of many of the faces I see each morning.
After this weekend, I feel so burdened for the world, especially for my kiddos. You see, we don't talk about it a whole lot, but teachers, we love fiercely. We would not survive in this profession if it weren't for the students in our classrooms. Sometimes that's all that gets us up in the morning.
If I want to be an excellent educator, I cannot hide behind my privilege. I must talk about it, and talk about ways my students can change this world for the better. My classroom holds the unwritten history of America, and I cannot sit idly by and stay comfortable.
I have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Whether that means reading articles, listening to the news, or having conversations. I must answer the call.
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