Uncomfortable? Good, Me Too
I've been quiet around here for the past 9 months. Life was one thing and then another. But most of that wasn't on my mind in terms of writing publicly. However, now. Now is different. Now my words, while still not something eloquent, they are meant to be shared.
If you're new around here, welcome. I ramble and write sometimes in odd patterns.
I'm trying my best to get my emotions out right now, but I cannot promise that this will be even a decent piece of writing.
The biggest thing on my mind right now is my students. For a plethora of reasons. But let's get to the one at the core. I had 16 students on my roster when we were told we wouldn't be returning to school. 16 students. 15 of those students are Black. 1 is Hispanic. Of those 15 Black students, 9 of them are boys. 9 of them are going to grow up and become Black men. 9 of them.
16 students. 15 Black. 1 Hispanic. 9 Boys. 7 Girls.
9 Black boys. Nine. 9 Black boys who are going to grow up and become Black men. 9 Black boys whom I love with my whole heart. 9 Black boys who like legos and playing tag and reading books. 9 Blacks boys who couldn't get enough of the live bird video feed we watched. 9 Black boys who rush to be the first one to grab my hand.
Those 9 Black boys are going to grow up. They are going to become Black men. And I want them to exist in a world that is kinder to them. I want them to be able to chase all of their dreams without fear that their skin color is going to stand in the way.
6 Black girls. 6 Black girls who have changed my heart and life forever. 6 Black girls who are fascinated with my hair. 6 Black girls who love coloring and GoNoodle and reading books. 6 Black girls who heard over and over again that they can be anything they want to be. 6 Black girls who constantly changed seats to sit next to me.
Those 6 Black girls are going to grow up. They are going to become Black women. And I want them to exist in a world that is kinder to them. I want them to be able to chase their dreams without fear that their skin color (or gender) is going to stand in the way.
1 Hispanic girl. 1 Hispanic girl who is resilient and full of love. 1 Hispanic girl who loves memory games and sidewalk chalk and reading books. 1 Hispanic girl who waltz into my classroom only 6 weeks before we began remote learning.
That Hispanic girl is going to grow up. She is going to become a Hispanic woman. And I want her to exist in a world that is kinder to her. I want her to be able to chase her dreams without fear that her skin color (or gender) is going to stand in the way.
16 young people. 16 young people who are going to grow up. 16 young people who I have hopefully influenced for the better. They are my children, my littles, my family. And we protect our family. We stand together. I hope that when they are grown, the world looks different. I hope that when they are grown, the world is a kinder place. I hope that when they are grown, they truly are all treated equally.
I've been reading a post that has been cycling through the social media food chain about how teachers react to students with big emotions. How we react when a child throws a chair. How we react when a child yells and cries and protests the things we ask them to do. And while I cannot speak for every educator, I can speak for myself.
How do I react?
I sit with them. I ask them how they are feeling and why they are feeling that way. I ask them if I can do something to help them. I ask them what they need. And sometimes, I don't ask them anything. Sometimes I let them be angry. Because my goodness, emotions are real and they demand to be felt. And yes, you can push them down and bottle them up inside (but spoiler: they'll explode later).
I teach them to breath, to count to 10, to squeeze a stress ball, to sit with the weighted pillow on their lap, to flip the calm jar and watch it. I give them strategies. But I don't expect them to move past their emotions without an outlet. I don't expect them to "get over it." I let them process and I let them tell what I can do.
I'm not perfect. I'm not saying that I don't ever yell. I'm not saying that I'm always cool, calm, and collected myself. Because that would be a lie. Hi, I'm human. So are they. We work through it, together.
Right now:
I have a lot to learn and that can be overwhelming. But it is work that needs to be done. I urge you to listen and learn as well. Find the lane that speaks to you, get in it, and follow through.
I'm not perfect. Neither are you. But we can walk through this together.
If you're new around here, welcome. I ramble and write sometimes in odd patterns.
I'm trying my best to get my emotions out right now, but I cannot promise that this will be even a decent piece of writing.
16 students. 15 Black. 1 Hispanic. 9 Boys. 7 Girls.
9 Black boys. Nine. 9 Black boys who are going to grow up and become Black men. 9 Black boys whom I love with my whole heart. 9 Black boys who like legos and playing tag and reading books. 9 Blacks boys who couldn't get enough of the live bird video feed we watched. 9 Black boys who rush to be the first one to grab my hand.
Those 9 Black boys are going to grow up. They are going to become Black men. And I want them to exist in a world that is kinder to them. I want them to be able to chase all of their dreams without fear that their skin color is going to stand in the way.
6 Black girls. 6 Black girls who have changed my heart and life forever. 6 Black girls who are fascinated with my hair. 6 Black girls who love coloring and GoNoodle and reading books. 6 Black girls who heard over and over again that they can be anything they want to be. 6 Black girls who constantly changed seats to sit next to me.
Those 6 Black girls are going to grow up. They are going to become Black women. And I want them to exist in a world that is kinder to them. I want them to be able to chase their dreams without fear that their skin color (or gender) is going to stand in the way.
1 Hispanic girl. 1 Hispanic girl who is resilient and full of love. 1 Hispanic girl who loves memory games and sidewalk chalk and reading books. 1 Hispanic girl who waltz into my classroom only 6 weeks before we began remote learning.
That Hispanic girl is going to grow up. She is going to become a Hispanic woman. And I want her to exist in a world that is kinder to her. I want her to be able to chase her dreams without fear that her skin color (or gender) is going to stand in the way.
16 young people. 16 young people who are going to grow up. 16 young people who I have hopefully influenced for the better. They are my children, my littles, my family. And we protect our family. We stand together. I hope that when they are grown, the world looks different. I hope that when they are grown, the world is a kinder place. I hope that when they are grown, they truly are all treated equally.
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| They've got big dreams for the future |
I've been reading a post that has been cycling through the social media food chain about how teachers react to students with big emotions. How we react when a child throws a chair. How we react when a child yells and cries and protests the things we ask them to do. And while I cannot speak for every educator, I can speak for myself.
How do I react?
I sit with them. I ask them how they are feeling and why they are feeling that way. I ask them if I can do something to help them. I ask them what they need. And sometimes, I don't ask them anything. Sometimes I let them be angry. Because my goodness, emotions are real and they demand to be felt. And yes, you can push them down and bottle them up inside (but spoiler: they'll explode later).
I teach them to breath, to count to 10, to squeeze a stress ball, to sit with the weighted pillow on their lap, to flip the calm jar and watch it. I give them strategies. But I don't expect them to move past their emotions without an outlet. I don't expect them to "get over it." I let them process and I let them tell what I can do.
I'm not perfect. I'm not saying that I don't ever yell. I'm not saying that I'm always cool, calm, and collected myself. Because that would be a lie. Hi, I'm human. So are they. We work through it, together.
Right now:
I'm struggling because I'm feeling BIG emotions in BIG ways and I'm not quite sure how to sit with them.
I'm working on processing. I'm talking to the people who help.
I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm hurt. I'm confused.
Big emotions. I've had to sit with them. I've been able to talk about them. I've been allowed to react in all sorts of ways. Ways that I get to act because of the color of my skin. I've screamed, I've cried, I've ran, I've punched, I've yelled, I've thrown things. Privilege. I get to do all of these things because of white privilege.
I have a lot to learn and that can be overwhelming. But it is work that needs to be done. I urge you to listen and learn as well. Find the lane that speaks to you, get in it, and follow through.
I'm not perfect. Neither are you. But we can walk through this together.
Beautifully written with courage and an open heart. I feel more optimistic about the world my wonderful bi-racial grandchildren will get to live in because of educators like you guiding our youth!
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