'And Maybe I Can Change That Too'

One of the greatest challenges I faced this past year was trying to find a way to effectively break down the racist ideas held by two of my 12th grade students. As their Special Education teacher, I worked with Sean and Nikolos in their inclusion English class and resource period.

We were reading Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye so we were discussing daily the poisonous impact that racism has on society. One of our assignments required them to write their opinion of Profile of a Writer: Toni Morrison [1], a video in which Morrison describes the connections she sees between our history of slavery and how it still continues to have an effect on American society and particularly the black community.

In the video she argues that rates of crime and divorce among African Americans can be directly attributed to the lingering effects of slavery. I had thought that my students were going to find this argument to be a persuasive one and I was sure that their papers were going to be filled with ideas about how our society could work to eliminate these detrimental influences.

However, when we set to work on this assignment in resource class, Nikolos suddenly put down his pen. At first I thought it was because he was frustrated with brainstorming, but this was hardly the case.

"Mr. Luhman, I understand that they had it really tough back during slavery, but that was a long time ago. What does that have to do with anything that's going on today?

"I mean ... I'm not a racist or anything, but they just don't seem to want to help themselves. My uncle and mother came over from Greece and they were real poor and didn't speak the language or anything but they busted their butts to make a living, they didn't turn to crime or drugs or any stuff like that."

"Yeah," Sean chimed in, "I think they're like ... like kinda lazy and then they use the slavery thing like a crutch. I'm not racist either, I mean I've got lots of black friends, you know me, but when I hang with my boys down in the Bronx they all seem to got problems. It's like everybody knows somebody who's in jail, and there's a lot of divorce and kids having kids. It's kinda like what Nick said, you know, Italian and Greek families want to be here and they want to help each other. They don't act like that."

I could feel myself starting to get revved up and angry over their comments. "What do you think might be causing these things to happen within a particular community of people? It’s not the color of a person’s skin that causes these things to happen, is it? I'm sure you both know black families that are not affected by crime and divorce; aren't there other forces at work in the world that could be affecting the rate at which these occur?"

It quickly became evident that Morrison's comments in the film had not made an impact on them.

"I think they just want to live that way," Nikolos added coolly. "I mean, they could choose to live differently if they really wanted to. Nobody's making them stay where they are."

As they sat nodding at each other, their mutual beliefs beginning to reinforce one another, I realized that what had presented itself to me was, in fact, an incredible opportunity.

The more intimate setting of the resource room had made these two boys comfortable enough to share with me what they truly believed. Now that their opinions were out in the open, I could try to find a way to get them to see the issue differently.

I decided to employ the Socratic method of questioning. I removed every trace of judgment from my voice and then began to ask questions that sought to clarify what they believed and how they came to believe it.

Asking questions in this way was going to be the best way to get them to think critically about their own beliefs without their becoming defensive.

"Okay, wait a second," I said, "let me see if I understand everything you've just told me. Tell me again in what ways you think Greek and Italian families are different from black."

I then proceeded to construct a 'T' chart on the board, I listed their points on the left-hand side and then I asked questions that required them to elaborate on these points:

"What do you mean when you say Italian families wanted to be here in America? In what ways did those family members support each other?"

Being only second or third generation Americans themselves, both students were very capable of drawing on their own family histories. They spoke at length about the deliberate choices their ancestors made in order to seek a better life, they talked about the tradition of large extended families and the various forms of financial and emotional support they offered.

"Okay," I said, "I can see your points very clearly. So now, let's take a look at black families in America and ask some of these same questions: Why did black families want to come to America?"

"Oh, wait a minute," Sean said, his eyes lighting up with that sort of begrudging recognition that comes with the realization that something you've just said isn't going to hold water. "I see where this is going."

Again, I merely asked them questions and I encouraged them to elaborate as much as possible on their answers:

"Were the members of slave families able to support each other? What happened to those families when they arrived at the auction blocks? What was the quality of life like on a plantation for a slave family? What effects do you think this had on them emotionally and socially? What prospects did they have to look forward to in the future?"

"All right, so I kinda see what you're saying," Nikolos proclaimed, "but I still don't see how all that stuff has any connection to the crime and divorce and all the other stuff that's going on today."

I realized I needed to set up an analogy that made sense to them, something that used their own personal capital.

Both of these boys had been classified with severe emotional challenges; I thought I might be able to get them to see a connection between the effect of their own abusive family histories and the larger historical dynamic that has so negatively affected the lives of so many African Americans.

"See what you think about this idea," I said, and I began to draw a family tree on the board. "If I physically abuse my children, what are the chances that my children will probably abuse their children as well?"

Both boys agreed that unless someone intervened or sought counseling that the chance of the cycle continuing was very high. When I asked them if they thought the cycle of abuse could continue for up to four generations, they both agreed that it was very possible and that they themselves had heard or seen it permeate at least three generations.

"Can you estimate how many years will go by if a problem like this does get passed on for four generations?"

Sean was amazed by the arithmetic. "That's like ... like a hundred and fifty years! Maybe more!"

Nikolos, however, still had reservations regarding my analogy. "Yeah, but Mr. Luhman, if you know you've got problems you've got to take responsibility for them and do something about them. They don't seem to do that."

Strangely enough, it was Sean who now offered a rebuttal. "It's not easy to do that though. Even if your parents are messed up, you don't wanna feel like you're disrespecting your family, especially if they're all you got. I mean, sometimes you don't even know you got a problem because that's all you're used to is problems."

The two then began to banter back and forth over the subject, arguing the pros and cons of each other's points of view. Sadly, they were hardly ten minutes into this lively conversation when the bell for the end of the period rang.

"That's the bell already!" My disappointment escalated even more when I saw that the two boys had reflexively begun to pack up their books, still arguing their points of view. I would have to wait until tomorrow's class to find out what they felt they had learned.

I reluctantly dismissed them both, but as the two of them headed out through the door, Sean hesitated a moment as if he were trying to decide whether or not to tell me something he had on his mind.

"You know, Mr. Luhman, every guy in my family all the way back to my grandfather drinks and curses and throws stuff when he gets angry. Today was making me think that maybe all that goes back to my grandpa's experiences back in Ireland and even here in America.

"I mean, he didn't have it as bad as the slaves, but his life was still pretty rough. I was thinking ... you know … maybe who I am has a lot to do with who he was. And maybe I can change that too."

David Luhman is a Special Education and English teacher at Dobbs Ferry High School in Dobbs Ferry, NY.