Family

I was apprehensive about beginning a unit on the concept of home in my high school art class. I’m still getting to know my students and was wary of delving in to such a personal topic without knowing what it might bring up for them. I want a curriculum centered on students’ lives, but also like to have an idea of what to expect.

Each March 7, Stephanie and her husband John will invite immediate family members to the house to celebrate their son, Alexander, now 3. And every year, she’ll ask people not to bring gifts, but she knows the grandparents will not listen. She will serve cake. Friends will send cards and messages of congratulations. Pictures will be taken and loaded into photo albums.

A family of four came to speak to my high school juniors and seniors. Two dads and their 16-year-old daughter and 17-year-old son talked about their family, the adoption process and their experiences with discrimination and prejudice.

When I was growing up, most of my friends’ families had a mom and a dad. A few parents were divorced and that meant stepdads and stepmoms were also in the picture. That was about the extent of family diversity in my experience. During my teaching credential program, I learned about children having two moms or two dads. I made a mental note to remember this. I have discovered that family configurations are limitless and I now work to be inclusive, aware and respectful.

On a recent rainy afternoon, our 20 kindergarteners were kept indoors for playtime. I stood near a group of four children stringing beads for bracelets and necklaces.

Levi explained he was making a bracelet for his daddy.

The child next to him, Catherine, blurted out angrily, “I hate daddies!”

Levi searched for words, looked at Catherine and asked, “Why do you hate daddies?” He repeated it a few times.
“I don’t have a daddy,” Catherine replied. “I hate daddies.”

I like to switch things up every once in a while, so I assigned my high school students a project I’d never done before—a gift book. In addition to the academic value, I hoped to strengthen at least one teen-adult connection at a time when it’s sometimes hard to just grunt, “Good morning,” without an argument. (I know this because I have two teens in my own house.) I also wanted students to be able to create a keepsake to give a loved one during the holiday season. Many students could not afford to buy anything. In our rural school, many students come from low-income homes.

When I was in elementary school, it was common to overhear adults say that children were from “broken homes” if they lived with a single mom or dad or sometimes with grandparents. One of those families belonged to my friend Ellie, who lived with her mom. So I asked my father, a Congregational minister, why some people thought Ellie’s family was broken? Dad gently explained that strong families, Ellie’s included, have three characteristics: love, connectedness and commitment.

Melea hates school. 

She is 4 years old and was adopted at birth by two gay men. Her dads (Mark and Sam) are Caucasian and Melea is African American-Latino.

Shrinking there on the stool in the science classroom, I just want to gather my ungraded quizzes and my dignity and flee to freedom. But, I don’t. I sit there, paralyzed by the assault.

“We are not your enemies,” I finally counter. “We are not Blake’s enemies.”

During the school year, I try to empower my students to make their own decisions and form their own opinions. I begin with a unit I call, “Question Authority.” Students investigate all kinds of authorities, including government, media, and history. It’s a powerful unit that leaves kids shocked (“Food labels can say fat-free even if there’s fat in the food?”), disappointed (“Those models in the magazine are all Photoshopped?”), and angry (“We imprisoned people just because of their ethnic heritage?”). They learn to develop a critical lens with which to question the reality they once blindly accepted.