February Can't Come Fast Enough

The first few years that I was at The Storefront we had Black History Month Extravaganzas! Students sang Bob Marley and Cassandra Wilson. They performed scenes from A Raisin in the Sun, For Colored Girls, Fences, and The Colored Museum, and recited passages by Ralph Ellison and Sojourner Truth. We rehearsed for weeks and when it was over the feeling of accomplishment shared by all was so powerful.

Circa 2005

As years went on and the work of Blacks, Latinos, Asian-Americans, and Native Americans became embedded in all aspects of the curriculum at The Storefront, I didn't see the need for a Black History Month Assembly anymore.  In my arrogance, I even began to question the need for Black History Month at all.  I was now dealing with kids who complained that they read "too much" by black authors, and claimed that they "knew all there was to know about black history" in the 7th grade.

Well, that was then- and right now I'm counting down the seconds until February.  Consider some statements I have heard from 6th and 7th graders in the past few weeks:

• "Watch out.  We might get Ebola" (upon seeing visitors who were clearly from East Africa on a tour of the school).
• "We have the day off because of that 'black holiday'" (referring to Martin Luther King Day).
• "There were some good slave masters."
• "Black people need to let go of the past.  Slavery and Segregation were a long time ago."
• "I disagree with Martin Luther King.  I think that race relations would be better today if blacks were given their rights more gradually." 

I'm all for encouraging critical thinking, but in 6th grade you think that you can disagree with Martin Luther King?

However, the comment that almost sent me over the edge (and onto the unemployment line) was a "joke."  It began with an incomprehensible riddle about "broken Asian children" that one of the comedian's classmates quickly called out as racist.

Not content to exit the stage gracefully, said comedian decided to tell another joke. "How do you keep a kid from jumping on the bed?" she said. "Put some velcro on the ceiling."  I swear, as much as I read and write about racism, every time I'm faced with it, my first response is disbelief.

Me:  WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?

6th Grader: (repeats the joke still laughing, but somewhat sheepishly)

Me: Little girl, please don't think that I don't know that the real joke is how to do stop a black kid from jumping on the bed!"

6th Grader: I know, but I took that word out to make it sound less bad . . . 

Me: That is incredibly racist and inappropriate!

6th Grader: What????  Why???  I don't get it!!!

The rest of the class during Showtime at the Apollo

Obviously, I wouldn't characterize the majority of my students as racist.  I'm not sure if it is even possible to say that a child is racist.  Sure, they can hold racist beliefs but they are still in the process of forming who they are as people and establishing their position in the world.  There's still hope when they are in Middle-School.

Nevertheless, some of what comes out of the mouths of these babes is pure foolishness.  I'm almost glad that there aren't any black kids in my classes to have to deal with this nonsense.  The irony is that some of the students who seem to have the most conservative views about race are the ones who are most attached to me.  They are also the ones who (outside of their comments) I like the most.

My students are extremely wealthy.  They don't wear coats to school in January because they are dropped off and picked up by their drivers.  They sneak into the bathroom during math class to buy $150.00 watches from Amazon.  But these same students interview their drivers for family history projects and claim that their garage attendant is like their "second father."  I think that in their minds I am in the same category as the driver and garage attendant (and not necessarily just because I'm black).

I'm not Viola Davis but I have had plenty of Mae Mobleys throughout my teaching career.

These kids have to experience a huge level of confusion feeling bonded with people of color, and then hearing intolerance on racial and class issues from their parents.  I think that sometimes they say crazy things to me because they are testing whether or not I care enough about them not to abandon them, and because on some level they want them disproven.

So, my solution is Black History Month.  This February, Shakespeare and the Ancient Greeks are going to sit at the back of the proverbial bus while I teach what I teach best.  Stay tuned . . .