The food justice unit was one of the most successful of the year. Until the meltdown.
Students had watched Food, Inc., read several articles about food production and created masterful multimedia presentations on their learning. They were now presenting. Omar chose several pictures of his favorite dishes. He told us about them and how they were made. Then he interjected a seemingly innocent joke.
“Maybe you wouldn’t like this carne asada, though. Maybe it’s too spicy for you, guerito,” Omar said cheekily, using a Spanish word sometimes used to describe blond, light skinned Americans, and nodding his chin at Victor.
“You little bugger,” Victor whipped back and was almost out of his seat; his consternation was intense and immediate.
“Omar, that’s enough. Victor, please sit down,” I mustered in my best teacher voice, but their friends had quickly rallied and a raucous, slang-infused verbal debate was raging.
When the classroom did calm, we started the next presentation. I took the two boys, one at a time, into the hallway. This was one of those moments when you, as teacher, have to consider myriad variables and respond on the spot with sensitivity and wisdom. The messages we send in these situations reverberate not only in our classrooms, but also in the school, and in students’ lives and identities.
Here is what I know about these two boys.
Omar speaks to me very calmly, waiting while I work with other students until I have time to talk with him one on one. His mother attends parent-teacher conferences every time and he translates honestly for her, even when the report is less than positive. He likes to laugh and make sarcastic jokes. He picks up his sister from her elementary school every day after school.
His contexts: older brother, single-parent household, father in prison, bilingual, English language learner, Hispanic, male, freshman.
Victor works very hard this year. After a very unsuccessful freshman year last year, he’s taking all the same classes again, with the addition of one key elective: Air Force Junior ROTC. His work ethic and self-advocacy skills have improved tenfold. He does not like working in groups with Spanish speakers when they speak Spanish. He loves reading about hunting, guns and the military. He wants to graduate in five years, improving on his older siblings’ records.
His contexts: youngest child, single-parent household, mom owns a thrift store, English speaker, white, male, repeat freshman.
Then, once I consider these boys’ unique identities, I lead into the conversations with open-ended questions. I reign in my indignation at their disrespect for each other, my bias toward one context or another and I prepare to listen openly to their interpretations. “So, how’re you? What’s going on?”
Omar: “I was just playing, Miss. He got all huffy.”
Victor: “He’s always trying to piss me off.”
After a classroom meltdown like the one we just experienced, I am not going to whip out a team builder on the spot. There are text resources abounding that offer activities to combat racism and build community. But right now tensions are high. The most important thing is to deescalate the boys’ emotions individually.
I do my best to remind each boy of their complex identities and ask them to look at the situation from the other boy’s perspective. Both boys are quickly repentant once removed from the classroom glare of their peers’ scrutiny.
“It really stinks that someone made fun of you. It’s ok to feel angry,” I said to Victor. “But think before you react. Stay calm and be the mature young man I know you are.”
To
Omar, I said, “Think how you would feel if someone called
you a name you didn't like or made fun of something important to you. I know
you like to make jokes, and you are a funny guy. But you must know what jokes
are appropriate. That one was not.”
When I brought them together, each boy stopped short of an apology. We will have a follow-up conversation to mend the relationship between them.
After each boy has returned to the classroom, I take a moment for myself in the blessed hallway. What provoked these boys’ outbursts? How can we keep it from happening again? Generational poverty and the racism that is magnified by that hardship certainly play a role. The transition our neighborhood has undergone and the resulting stratification of populations also comes to mind.
In my role as classroom teacher, I cannot immediately change those larger contexts. But by reflecting on them, students and teachers alike become aware and therefore able to make small changes in their own individual situations.
Every time we stop and consider the complex identities of our peers and ourselves, we are one step closer to understanding. One more brick is removed from the dividing wall of racism.
Eden is a high school language arts teacher in Colorado.
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