I see my cocoa brown hand grab the handle of the door. I take a deep breath. I already know what I will see and I am sure I will know what I feel. I step into the room and professionally scan the room so fast no one even knows I am doing it. It’s what I expect. I accept I am the “only one” with a tan that never goes away.
I am the only African-American in the room.
This has been a repeat occurrence my entire life. I have entered classrooms, offices, conventions, houses, churches, synagogues, libraries, stores and schools. Each time I enter these places I wonder if I will be the “only one.”
When I was 6, taking that step into a place where I might be the “only one” terrified me. As I got older that initial feeling started to decrease and then started to transform into something else––something powerful. I tell my own children it is the “power of one.” Now I look at my solo status as an opportunity to make others feel comfortable with differences and to overcome my own insecurities.
Even as a second-grade teacher heading to my first staff meeting I sensed that oneness again. I remember looking at my colleagues and seeing expressions of acceptance, of welcoming and of curiosity. I didn’t feel like that 6–year-old. I knew we would make connections that would empower and encourage me to see beyond being the “only one.” It would be powerful.
But can my students feel that power?
It is my role to help them realize that being the “only one” doesn’t have to stay an uncomfortable situation. Even though students may feel isolated, it is our job as teachers to notice, use our intuition and help them intermingle and connect.
I remember an African-American student who enrolled late to our predominantly Caucasian, suburban school. A week later, I saw him walking with his hood-covered head hanging low like a sad puppy. When I asked his teacher how he was doing, she said at first she was worried he may have some special needs because he was uncommunicative and withdrawn. She later discovered he was an amazing writer with an immense imagination. She felt that he was experiencing culture shock. His previous school had been in a very urban and diverse community.
His teacher and I discussed our own childhood experiences and found that even though she was Caucasian, we shared the feeling of isolation, being the “only one” and later the transformation into empowerment. We decided together to monitor, encourage and engage that student.
There was a pay off!
That student began taking off his hood and sharing some of the most brilliant thoughts and stories both in writing and with his peers. He was a bit of an introvert but that seemed more of a choice. In social circles he thrived despite being the only African-American.
More and more students will enter doors, scan the room and realize they are the only ones of a particular race, culture, sex or even belief system. However, that can become the unifier, not the divider. It should be a confidence booster, not an insecurity.
It is our duty as teachers to look out for children showing signs of isolation. We must build bridges and help students make connections. Eventually every student should feel the “power of one.”
Rucker is an elementary school teacher in California.
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