I'm taking an amazing class at the zen center. It's called Harmony of Difference and Equality in the Context of Identity Politics. What made me want to take it was the description: "We will examine how issues of race, sexual orientation, and gender inform our practice."
The issue of race has been a really important part of my teaching over the past ten years and studying it has transformed my life. Lately, though, it has fallen by the wayside as the racial makeup of my school has changed toward the less diverse, and I have focused my interests elsewhere. I've never been happy about this, and wondered about my motivations for studying it if it appeared to have been just a "phase" in my life.
But even in our first class, we already had "difficult" conversations about our own biases, assumptions, and experiences with issues of race, gender, class, etc. By "difficult" conversations, I'm referring to conversations we have that are really uncomfortable, where we talk about things that everyone sees but doesn't want to admit. It isn't always so much about the topic of conversation as it is about staying in it and being as honest as possible so that we start to learn from each other. This, for me, has been the most transformative part of my studying of race and racism: how to stay in the conversation, how to foster these discussions, because racism can only exist as long as we allow it to, and we only allow it to exist if we keep denying its existence. That's a much bigger conversation and hopefully someday I can post about it but for now, let's just say that I was really happy to be in a class that had the structure and intent to foster these conversations.
But what this blogpost really is about...is the homework. The first night, the teacher gave us a bunch of handouts, one of which she asked us to keep present with us throughout our daily interactions with others. For me, it was like a set of precepts for living in a way that dismantles the institutions of racism/ sexism/ oppression in general. There are eight of them, but I was so intrigued and overwhelmed by the first one that I had to just stop there. Here it is: (Directing the Mind Towards Practices in Diversity by Larry Yang, LCSW 2004)
Aware of the suffering caused by imposing one's own opinions or cultural beliefs upon another human being, I undertake the training to refrain from forcing others, in any way- through authority, threat, financial incentive, or education- to adopt my own belief system. I commit to respecting every human being's right to be different, while working towards the elimination of suffering of all beings.
The first thing that stood out to me was the line, "Aware of the suffering caused by imposing one's own opinions or cultural beliefs upon another human being..."
I realized that I do this all the time; that I am constantly asking the kids to change their behavior to fit my beliefs about how a classroom should run, what you should look like when you are "paying attention," how you should talk, etc.
At first, I wanted to avoid this truth by suggesting that I needed to modify their behavior, that I'm a teacher, and that by nature of my profession, I am supposed to change children, broaden their minds and train them to be "students." But then I read the second part: "I commit to respecting every human being's right to be different..."
I pictured my third graders, and all their differences: their quirkiness, craziness, their stuff that drives me crazy and I pictured how much suffering they must feel when I don't accept this in them, when I try to change them into something else. I realized that they have a right to be different, that we all have a right, in fact it's our life's compulsion to express this difference, to be who we truly are.
And then I thought, "This...this is really important. This might be the most important thing that I do in my classroom this year: allow the children to actually be themselves, to somehow find a way to allow all of us to coexist in this room in a way where we all can be our true selves."
So, on Monday morning, I went in to my classroom with the intent to "respect every human
being's right to be different." I vowed to see their "differences" as their right, as their assertion of their self, to see "difference" as an equally valid participant in our classroom instead of something that I needed to change.
To be honest, it actually started out pretty well. The kids came in to do their "math message" and I watched them with a pretty open mind. They were supposed to cut out their fact triangles and write their initials on them. Some kids were meticulous cutters, others were writing their initials in artistic letters and I thought, "That's different." Some wanted to write their initials first, others wanted to wait until the end to put their scraps in the recycle bin, others wanted to walk around and collect the scraps and I thought, "That's different." Some wanted to dance around the room or bounce up and down beside their chair and I thought, "Okay, are they actually doing the task that I asked?" and they were so I thought, "That's different," and let it be. But then they started distracting others from doing the task so I asked them to stay at their own seats.
Then I saw someone standing out in the hallway, staring at the art that I had displayed and I
thought," That's different." But then I thought, "Wait, that may be different, but that's not
learning, he's going to be way behind or even miss the assignment." So I gently guided him
back to his desk and turned to the correct page in his math journal and asked him if he had
cut out his fact triangles yet. He said no and then started cutting.
And this was different too. Normally I would have called out his name and told him to pay attention. I'm pretty sure that when I do this, he feels bad about himself for "not paying attention." But in this interaction, when I just accepted that he was intrigued by the art in the hallway and simply guided him back to his desk, he was able to just do it. There wasn't any suffering involved, there wasn't any imposing of my beliefs upon his, there was just a simple direction to the task at hand.
Now, in full disclosure, I pretty much lost it in the afternoon after being all "That's different" all morning long. I yelled at them for talking with their friends during the read-aloud and totally called them out for reading together during independent reading time. But today, I also let them twirl around during vocabulary and laughed with them as they flopped on chairs and discussed parts of speech. I'm slowly letting go of my need to control them and that's bringing me way less suffering and I think it's making them happier too.
But as I write this post, I also see a really important distinction being made. Before, I thought that it would be impossible for me to be their teacher and not impose my values and beliefs on them. How could I possibly "educate" them without asking them to adopt behaviors or ideas that I believe are crucial to their understanding of learning in general and third grade standards in particular? But as I reflect on my interaction with the art kid in the hallway, I realize that I did that without judgment, that he was able to be himself and do what I asked him to do. I feel like there's a way to do this, to accept their behaviors, even those that seem disruptive, in a way that allows them to learn and be themselves. I also feel like I have to do this, that they have a right to be who they are and I can no longer oppress or diminish that.
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