As we embark upon another school year, my 22nd as a teacher,
I am sitting with the usual excitement, anxiety and sense that there must still
be something else to get done. But I am
also struck with a profound sadness with Ferguson, Missouri and the death of Michael
Brown dominating the news. I spent 17
years teaching in Missouri, 14 of them teaching African-American Studies. I have had dozens, if not hundreds of
students that could have been Michael Brown.
I don't pretend to know what happened and I am not here to comment on the hundreds of issues this awful, devastating event raises. I am saddened by the loss of a family and community. I am struck by my memories of so many students who may have been just like Michael.
I don't pretend to know what happened and I am not here to comment on the hundreds of issues this awful, devastating event raises. I am saddened by the loss of a family and community. I am struck by my memories of so many students who may have been just like Michael.
I read an article last week about Michael. He was described as a good kid in the sense
that he did little to bring attention to himself. Apparently it took a lot of support to get
him through school. Parents had to
really push at times. But he stayed out of
trouble. How many students have we had
that just blended in and avoided attention and were therefore defined as good
kids? How much potential went
unrecognized? How many of these kids
were African-American boys?
I have had too many young, African-American men who fit this
description. The reasons are different
for every kid. Some dealt with poverty
or a lack of role models. Others came
from homes struggling with abuse of all kinds.
Some came from homes with adults that didn’t value education because of
their own negative experiences. Some
came from excellent homes with involved families that valued an education. Some simply felt lost, excluded and ignored.
However, they all had dreams, they were all capable, and they
all had their own unique passions and interests.
The results were just as varied. Most of these young men have become
successful in a myriad of ways – college students, good fathers and business
and civic leaders. Others have had
different routes to and through adulthood.
But what I have seen over and over from these guys is an
aching to be heard, respected and given a genuinely fair shot at being
successful and safely being themselves.
Isn’t this what all of our
kids want? Why do we so often struggle
giving this to our African-American boys?
If we allow any of our students to feel disenfranchised,
alienated, disrespected or hopeless we run the risk of ending up with angry,
unhappy, hopeless adults – and we don’t need any more of that.
This year pledge to notice the students who blend in and
avoid being noticed. Find out what their
dreams are. Teach them something about
being resilient in the face of a challenge.
Be the adult they can lean on and learn from. Listen, respect, validate, support.
We’ve all heard the maxim about teaching them well because every
student you have is somebody’s baby. But
what if you taught them not like they were somebody else’s baby, but like they
might marry yours!