Last spring, a fifth-grade girl approached me in the lunchroom with a question. Asalah is a Muslim student from Yemen. Our connection had started right there in the school cafeteria two years ago. I was passing out trays and sporks when the third-grade version of Asalah approached me with a question about whether or not the “ham” sandwich was really pork. I told her no, that it was turkey, and shared with her that my religion, Judaism, has dietary laws as well and that I don’t eat pork either. We’ve been pals ever since.
But this time, Asalah had a very different question—one that sent my mind to a thousand confused places. “How can I tell my teacher I don’t want her to touch me like that?” she wanted to know.
Why would Asalah’s teacher possibly put her hands on a student? I collected myself, and replied with a question. “What do you mean, touch you like that? Like what, Asalah? I need you to tell me.”
Asalah described an event from the rooftop play yard that morning. Her teacher was giving the class the fifth-grade Physical Fitness Test, part of the collection of state assessments given in our district every spring. One measurement involves estimating a student’s percentage of body fat using a set of calipers. The teacher grasps loose skin at the back of the student’s upper arm with one hand and places the calipers on either side of the skin with the other, reads the calipers and compares the reading to a chart to interpret the results.
Asalah’s teacher had given the assessment before and knows that some kids don’t want to take their sweatshirt off or to be measured in front of others. What she didn’t know was that for our Middle Eastern students it can feel very uncomfortable—even disgraceful—if they are touched in public by an adult who is not a member of their family. The training that the district provides around how to administer the assessments had not addressed that at all.
I thanked Asalah for confiding in me and promised her that I’d speak with her teacher. As I walked down the hallway, though, I knew that the first person I needed to check in with was our principal. She and I both have experience living in the Middle East and are very aware that children from these cultures are not used to being touched by adults outside their family. We realized that none of the fifth-grade teaching team was familiar with the need to approach this with sensitivity. We drafted a list of possibilities to consider going into next spring’s testing session. We are planning a community meeting for families of fifth-graders to explain the assessment and find out about what options for administering it might feel comfortable to them.
Muslim students are not the only ones for whom we need to be mindful when entering their physical space. That said, I do feel a particular responsibility to these children in our community. Perhaps it’s the fact that their people and mine come from the same part of the world. Maybe it’s the discrimination I’ve seen in the wake of 9/11. Regardless, I encourage all of us to remember that what may seem like a common, daily practice to us may be unfamiliar and even uncomfortable to children from other cultures. Religion is one element of student identity to consider as we get to know the children and build our classroom communities.
Teaching Tolerance offers many resources for use in approaching these issues, including this activity for the middle grades about understanding a variety of religious beliefs.
Kotleba is an instructional reform facilitator in California.
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