#springvalleyhigh

In the first video below, Ta-Nehisi Coates suggests that we (society, the American people in a democracy) are using police to do things that maybe they shouldn't be doing. Or, that as we question the decisions and actions of police, we should also be asking why and how public policies put police in certain spaces in the first place.

A I watched the disturbing (and for many viewers, triggering) video of a police officer in South Carolina violently, brutally, taking down a Black 15-year old female student in a classroom - a space that should be empowering, safe, and joyous - I found myself thinking about the policies that have police called School Resource Officers (SROs) in schools in the first place.  And I was also wondering what decisions the leading adult in that classroom - the teacher - made that brought the officer into that classroom.   Here's the video.

A couple weeks ago, a student was being defiant to me in a way that was challenging the power dynamics of the classroom. I mean that he was declaring his autonomy so unapologetically, and so intentionally disregarding my attempts at authority, that he made me feel defensive.  I had asked and then told him, several times, to put his cell phone away. Normally that's all I do.  If a student doesn't put it away, they are not committed to learning that day, and we'll try again tomorrow.  But this kid wanted to get a rise out of me.  He told me he wouldn't put it away.  I told him I'd take it.  He said I couldn't.  I said the principal could.  He said she couldn't.  Then he said he could sue me.  Ha! I tried to de-escalate the situation by using it as a teaching opportunity about how expensive lawyers are.  He didn't really want to de-escalate though, and put the phone right up in front of his face.

This is when I felt the need to be the powerful one.  I'm about to tell you the decisions I made, and why I empathize with the teacher in the video.  But through that empathy, I'm still critical that the teacher put his student at risk by calling the SRO on her.

This is what I did. I called the office and asked if the principal could come take this students phone.  I was told she was in a meeting, but that they could send security over to the room.  Without thinking, I said yes, and hung up the phone.  I immediately felt ill.  I had called security on a kid for not putting his phone away.

I quickly walked over to the student, kneeled down and very calmly told him this.  "I have called security to come take your phone.  I really don't want security in this classroom, so you can choose at this time to put your phone away, or have security take it.  If you put it away now, I'll tell security that we're cool here."  Literally as security showed up at our classroom door, the student put his phone away.  I waved security away, and they didn't enter.

Watching this disgusting video, I wonder what would've happened if the student I was interacting with hadn't put his phone away.  Would he have peacefully refused to cooperate with what he probably perceived as a bullshit situation?  If so, what would the security guard have done?  Would I be a bystander to anything that continued to unfold?

I'm also upset with myself that I called security on a student about something as minor as a phone. It's not something I'll do again. 

Power is palpable in schools.  Many students become forgotten and discarded - sometimes assaulted - in what is rather insane commitment by educators to preserve a great deal of power over youth. Particularly youth of color. Particularly Black youth.  What was the teacher trying to preserve when they called the SRO into that classroom? And what was the SRO trying to preserve when he assaulted that girl?  I don't think "preserving the learning environment" works here, because that police officer disrupted that "learning environment" way more than anything that girl could have been doing.  I think if we - educators - answer these questions more honestly, we will feel uncomfortable. I do.

Students as other people's children

In the few years I've worked with high school youth, almost all of my favorite memories involve students and their parents.

Lisa Delpit, who I mention in the Why the name? section of this blog, has a book called Other People's Children.  I recommend it. I've found it extremely helpful to look at students as the children of other people.  The extreme majority of whom are loving their kids, fighting and sacrificing for their kids, and trying to navigate complicated relationships with their kids.

Sometimes it's easy to forget that high schoolers, especially the defiant ones, the ones who on the worst days make me think how nice a cubicle must be, are someone's kid.  An example.  One student who as been assigned to my classroom is pretty damn defiant.  He's said things and made certain hand gestures at me that I'm not going to explain here. In the moment, I can have some real negative thoughts about this kid. And it's easy for me to see him in a vacuum, because in an a way classrooms are vacuums. I have a pretty de-contextualized view of this student for 4.5 hours a week.

A few nights ago, I sat down with this student, a few other teachers, his parents and his younger siblings, and an interpreter.  His parents are awesome!  They have high expectations for him.  They want to know from us when he's defiant.  They are noticing he is changing, and have some concerns.  The student's dad shared that he wants to teach his son to treat all people with respect. We were all serious, but had some laughs too. 

Yesterday, when I saw this student again, I thought about his parents.  There was context to this student.  He might be an asshole now, but his parents are cool. He's a teenager, he's changing, and if enough people patiently lift this student up, I think he's going to be okay.  Maybe he'll even thrive. I see this student a lot differently now, as other people's child.

I've sat in meetings with parents and students, and watched how parents look at their children.  With pride, with concern, with annoyance, sometimes with an anger that you see comes from love.  I've seen students laugh with their parents, say nice things to their parents you can tell haven't been said in a while, and also stare at the floor, avoiding eye contact. Perhaps ashamed.

It's all interesting, and it makes me want to step up my game as a teacher.  Other people are trusting me to educate their child.  It's a big deal.  But it also helps me be more patient and more understanding of students, because I see them in the context of their families.

But best of all, the next time this student flips me the bird I can call his dad and know he might miss out on a trip to Mexico this summer!