Paul was angry. There was nothing extraordinary or even unique about the situation that angered him. He simply felt that a teacher was “tripping” and being unfair. This is my second year with Paul. I currently teach his 11th-grade U.S. History course. We have a very strong connection, so he felt comfortable coming to me to discuss his problem. He was not so much looking for advice as looking to vent.
I listened and was engaged, but Paul was unreceptive when I attempted to offer perspective. I pulled him into my classroom the next morning and attempted to check in with him again.
Paul explained that he had been told to remain silent during study hall, but was reading questions and answers aloud in an attempt to study. The supervising teacher, whose course Paul was studying, told Paul he would have to remain after study hall ended and study quietly. I asked Paul to consider why he was so angry. His reply to my question came swiftly: “It was stupid! I wasn’t even talking to anyone, just reading the question out loud. That is how I study.”
I understood Paul’s anger. I’m familiar with the frustration of being silenced and controlled. I told Paul that the teacher was not trying to control him, but simply requiring his respect. Paul’s response was simply “I don’t care.” There it was. I could see that he did care. So did I.
I heard the desperation in my voice. I needed Paul to understand that what had happened was much bigger than him and the other teacher. Bigger than the study hall in which the disagreement took place. Even bigger than the 20 minutes Paul would spend in an extended study hall as a consequence of his behavior.
I fear for the many black and brown—overwhelmingly male—children whose anger is seen as a threat. Reaction to that anger is often punitive in schools and can lead, later, to penitentiaries. Minneapolis, where I teach and Paul attends school, is a city with one of the worst “achievement gaps” in the nation. Without quality education, research tells us, imprisonment becomes exponentially more probable. I needed Paul to understand that his apathy is an early station on the road to a bleak future, but is on the road nonetheless.
That path can be reversed. It will take effort on everyone’s part: all the Pauls and every educator who interacts with them. We must first recalibrate our perception as educators. We must realize that our students are not broken. They are beautiful, intelligent, dignified souls. They are also under attack.
I followed up with the teacher who had saddled Paul with detention. She believed that he needed to be taught discipline and respect. These crucial traits must be honored, but we educators sometimes rely too much on our intentions and don’t spend enough time considering the impact of our actions. I understand the challenges of supervising study hall. Paul was not hurting anyone by reading aloud, nor was he a distraction. A simple conversation in the hallway about respect for stated expectations—or, better yet, applying the principle of extinction by removing any incentive or reward for the behavior you want to change—would have sufficed. Instead, Paul was left feeling punished, not taught. The distinction is not insignificant.
I missed a crucial opportunity, I didn’t insist on a follow up conversation with the teacher. I should have. I should have processed the interaction with her and let her know Paul did not take it as a learning experience but as a punitive one. We could have brainstormed together how to reach Paul, drawing on each of our experiences with him. We would have both been better for it.
In hindsight, I would have told that teacher that we need to become excellent at learning the motivation or purpose underlying a student’s behavior. By asking questions and engaging our students, we can gain insight into the causes of their behavior as well as model respect.
We must also become excellent, active listeners. Active listening models the respect we want to see in our students and makes us more likely to respond according to their needs.
I recommend several books that have been helpful for my classroom practice. Savage Inequalities: Children in America’s Schools by Jonathan Kozol, Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? by Beverly Daniel Tatum, Racism Without Racists: Color-Blind Racism and the Persistence of Racial Inequality in America by Eduardo Bonilla-Silva, and The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander and Cornel West have all given me greater insights into my students.
Helping students like Paul can be an overwhelming and enormous task. But we can do it. We must do it now.
Williams-Virden is a high school social studies teacher in Minneapolis.
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