I could have written an entire post in yesterday’s comments about the questions I read so I’ll devote some space here instead. It’s not as if, for example, I have to post something all month long just for the off chance that I may win a poster of Betty Boop or some other fascinating prize.
For the record, I do not itch due to freshly sprouting wings. Those are already there. You can’t see them in that picture of me on the masthead where I’m drinking out of a bowl with a handle nor can you see my halo. It’s a shiny, pretty platinum one, too. I keep that in a box under the bed. People tend to frown when I try to wear it all the time. Haters.
However, I think that question about the “race card” can be taken a few different ways. Do I hold onto it so that I can pull it out when I want to? Do I hold onto it in the event that I need it to make a point? It’s best to say that it is ever in my hand and it’s like an ace you’re holding that both invokes fear in you that someone else will know you have it and excitement that you are, in fact, holding it. Then, there’s the loathsome feeling that you’ve got to worry about having it to hold onto in the first place. Who put this card here? Do I like this card? Why are my eyes constantly scanning my hand? I WANT OUT OF THIS DAMN GAME IT’S MAKING ME CRAZY.
That barely scratches the surface of how that card makes me feel some days.
Perhaps I wouldn’t have brought it out had that parent not tried to make me feel that her daughter was victimized for being held to the same standard I would hold any student to, but I secretly knew it was coming. There’s no part of my being that allows me to forget that views of education hold that students be held to identical standards. Where I differ from my colleagues in the profession are how we support them, but that’s for another writing exercise. If this mother appealed to my senses as an educator with the best interest of students at heart, then it may have never occurred. But when I am confronted with the freeze-dried bullshit that I got that day then I have no choice but to react. (For the record, if we’re going for one, I immediately called my principal and said, “Just in case you get a phone call about this later let me give you a heads up…”).
So yes, I suppose it’s safe to say it’s in my face like this a lot. The Pollyanna in me says that I’m in a perfect position to relay these scenes, though it’s more a burden than a blessing. Practicing patience becomes second nature, but the Gestalt behaviorist pedagogy to which I ascribe allows me some measure of forgiveness when I come up against it. Whether that’s just the generic situation or the specific person in my face. Either way, it allows me to deal with it.
Retaliating students aren’t something I’m worried about either even though I realize any one of them is capable of it on a bad day. Pollyanna, again? you ask. No. That one is because I do not fear the students. Statistically speaking, they are probably more likely to hurt themselves or have another adult in their life hurt them than they are to bring a weapon to school with the intention to harm me. Even the girl whose mother hung up on me. If I were to get her one-on-one right now she would know without much prompting from me that I care for her and want the best. She would know that I am her advocate, the person who refuses to accept low expectations.
I’m ok with that. It’s enough for me.
Once, when I started teaching in a rough neighborhood some people from my church asked me if I were afraid to drive to that neighborhood and park my car and get out of it to walk into that building to teach.
Those kids, and they are kids, have to wake up in that neighborhood. They have to walk through the crack houses and past the liquor stores and the rent-to-own shops and the currency exchanges. They do it everyday just to come to school. If they can do that daily then so can I. Because I’m lucky enough to drive out of there to the safety and comfort of my home. So, no. I’m not scared. They’re kids. Just like the ones you’re raising. They have the same needs, the same yearnings.
That’s enough for me to get up and do it every day. If I have to look at those race cards I unwillingly hold while I do it, so be it.
They do it every day.
No matter how much of a “burden” it looks like, I deal with nothing compared to that.
November 8, 2007 @ 9:06 pm | Filed under NaBloPoMo | Permalink |
dawn Said,
November 8, 2007 @ 9:16 pm
They are just kids. Their life is rougher than anything I will ever have to experience. I can go to bed at night and not worry that I will have to sleep on my floor to stay safe from gunfire. I will not have to worry that merely standing on my sidewalk talking to my neighbor might get me shot. I had 3 students get shot in one semester. They are kids and they deserve to be loved by the adults in their lives and to be pushed to be the best that they can be. You do an great job. I hold you in the highest esteem. As for the race card…you use what works. It might not always feel right, but it might be that one thing that makes that one student listen. Love you…Rock on.
Kristin Said,
November 9, 2007 @ 7:08 am
I started to comment on this post earlier, but everything I wanted to say sounded vaguely Hallmark-ian… yet, I can’t come up with anything else, so I say, “Thank You” for being a teacher who cares.
Card available for .45
Gillian Said,
November 9, 2007 @ 7:46 am
You are a mixture of many races (mocha latte? dark cappuccino with frothy milky top?). Surely that works both for you and against you in lots of situations. If I had to guess I’d say you’re often “too black” to be taken seriously by some whites, “too white” to be taken seriously by some blacks. So it’s kind of nice to hear when you flip that around on them. When you talk to a black woman who assumes you’re white and prejudiced and you can say - please, lady, I’m in the same racial boat as you. Using that excuse to not play an active role in the health of your child is not going to work with me, let’s try another.
Tricia Said,
November 9, 2007 @ 10:43 am
I’ll have to read this again when I have more time to ingest it… I know you took no offense at my question, but I was thinking about it the other way- Does the question or fact of your racial heritage get ‘thrown at you’ (these being the important words here- I don’t know how to italicize in a comment- but hey I spelled italicize right on the first try!) often?
I think it’s a bit of a different question.
CJ Said,
November 9, 2007 @ 12:03 pm
I wouldn’t feel ashamed for using the race card. I mean, I use it, too. I’m not black, but Hispanic, which is bad as there’s such a backlash against Mexicans in America at this point. So there are different issues here that I face every day. But I use the race card plenty and I’m not ashamed of it. I won’t say I’m proud of it, but I feel like it’s more forced on me than anything else. I’m actually bi-racial, but I look Hispanic to plenty of people, although I have fair skin. So, I hate it when people assume things about me based on my appearance. Luckily, in my city, it’s 60% Hispanic, so I don’t face it so much at home. Sometimes, but not as often as other times. But when I travel it’s much worse. I can’t go into a department store without being followed around by the staff to make sure I don’t “steal anything”. People are just going to treat minorities poorly, and I think it’s up to people like us to make sure their viewpoints change and their ideologies change. I think you set a good example for your students and it’s fine to show them that even the minority students can achieve and that they need to see that it’s possible and they can do the things the other students do that had more opportunities than them. If you have to whip out the race card every now and then to reach them, then that’s what you have to do.
Trish K Said,
November 9, 2007 @ 12:09 pm
I am going to agree with Kristin above and sound like a Hallmark card. Thank you for a teacher and being a teacher that cares. I don’t think I would be able to do the job that you and other teachers do. Not because of the students, but because of the parents.
So, thank you again for being someone who cares.
Angela Said,
November 9, 2007 @ 8:01 pm
Seriously? You are so awesome. Seriously. (I almost NEVER use the word Awesome. I hold it so very high.)
Katy Said,
November 11, 2007 @ 3:52 am
Brava, Kelly. I love the way you address the issue of fear. Even though I worked in a low-income school I never felt afraid. If the kids and parents know that you care then often that is enough. Sigh. Missing work right now.
Kristen Said,
November 12, 2007 @ 4:30 pm
There’s a Betty Boop poster as a prize?
I’m sorry. I just had to go there.