Shushing

/

I have never—nor will I ever—shush a child. Okay, let me revise that. I’ve probably shushed a baby, which is pretty much my point. Now I’ll be the first to admit that I wasn’t there at the dawn of time, so I can’t say for sure when this business began, but I can say, unequivocally, that from time immemorial, adults have shushed children, teachers have shushed students and stereotyped librarians in horn-rimmed glasses and pencil skirts have shushed all of us.

“Not I,” I shout, trying to keep the big picture in mind: prioritizing relationships and cultivating a Belonging Classroom. Shushing is downright deleterious to those goals.

I want my students to talk more. I want them to be brave and take risks and say audacious things. I want them to question me, question each other and question what they have taken at face value. When I do get their attention, what I say must be worth interrupting that flow of ideas. I ask myself, Why do I want their attention? Is there another way to impart this information? If their talking is not about our shared work, then How can I make our work more meaningful and engaging? And when I do need their undivided attention, I get it in a way that reinforces my care and respect for them as well as my own joy in teaching them. Laquisha Hall, Baltimore’s 2018 Teacher of the Year, garnered some delightful strategies.

Aside from reinforcing the message that our students are helpless babies, shushing has another dangerous element. The best classroom relationships are among individuals. When I reprimand my students en masse, I’m creating or cementing an adversarial dynamic, one that, given the emotionally tumultuous state of teenagers, could quickly spark a mob mentality. Then I will be shushing…fellow teachers as I find a good place to hide.

Postscript: When I asked the renowned grammarian Uncle Dennis about the subject/verb agreement in the opening sentence, I confirmed that it was not—nor would it ever be—grammatically correct. After sanctioning my usage in the interest of rhetoric, he queried, “Why are you being so picky with such an idiomatic verb?” Why indeed.

White Teachers of Black Students

/
White Teachers of Black Students

As a white person raised in the US, I can’t help but be a product of my environment, which is a society where “whiteness” is tantamount to power, privilege and supremacy. As much as I cringe to write it, simply by virtue of benefitting from this system, I am racist.

As an anti-racist white person, which is how I describe myself to my students, I continue to work toward understanding and dismantling the underpinnings of systemic racism. I do this by learning more and I do this by teaching more. Teaching my students about racism strengthens their critical-thinking skills and helps me create a belonging classroom. My learning about racism means examining how my whiteness affects how I relate to my students of color.

Read More

Sometimes Grandma is Racist

/
Sometimes Grandma is Racist

But, the thing is, that’s how systemic racism works for white people. Its insidious nature is predicated on our emotional attachments, our egos and the high value we place on being polite. Our fond reminiscences might not bear up under scrutiny. What we thought was merit could just as likely be privilege. Being an upstander might mean a cold shoulder at the water cooler.

Read More

Names Are Sacred

/
Names Are Sacred

After all, as I regularly remind my students, there are many ways to be a person and everyone gets to decide what kind of person they want to be. That said, a key component to systemic racism (ironically paired with cultural appropriation) is cultural denigration — the idea that the marginalized culture is somehow inferior to the dominant culture. This denigration is manifested in a perpetual cycle of micro-aggressions children of first-generation families experience each day.

Read More