Something Has to Change

Nick Anderson | 5 Sep 2024

I’m tired. I’m so damn tired of watching a nation of knuckle draggers defend unfettered access to firearms and not the kids being killed by firearms legally obtained by those who ought not have access to them. The fourteen year old who killed four and injured at least 30 others used an AR-15 given to him by his father. The gift came shortly after the student was investigated for threats made against his school the year prior.

The moment we talk about common sense gun regulations similar to those required to drive a car—such as licensing and registration, health evaluations, etc.—the same knuckle draggers who demand extensive identification for those trying to exercise their right to vote cry out: “bUt ThE sEcOnD aMeNdMeNt!” Yet these same intentionally ignorant, peaked in high school stable geniuses piss on our right to free expression and our right to religious freedom (including freedom from religion). Many of them pose the solution that we “aRm ThE tEaChErS” when we can’t even find the money to keep school supplies in stock or pay our teachers a competitive salary.

While we are all guilty of hypocrisy in one form or another, the hypocrisy of this mouth breathing mass is literally killing our children. They’re worried that a student might read a book that exposes them to a world of ideas that might contradict the act of indoctrination they engage in with their kids. They are terrified of seeing queer youth being treated with dignity and respect. They are scared that students might see how many of our social, political, and societal systems are rigged against certain people groups—like women, the LGBTQIA+ and BIPOC communities, and the poor. Ideas scare them more than the inevitability of another school shooting.

Things must change.

And before anyone says this is “jUsT a FaCt Of LiFe,” we are the only country where this is a regularly occurring problem.

Things must change.

Digital Notebook #1: Cultivating Genius Ch. 3 Reflection

Identity is composed of notions of who we are, who others say we are (in both positive and negative ways), and whom we desire to be . . . Our identities (both cultural identities and others) are continually being (re)defined and revised while we reconsider who we are within our sociocultural and sociopolitical environment. Idenity is fluid, multilayered, and relational, and is also shaped by the social and cultural environment as well as by literacy practices . . .

-Gholdy Muhammad, Cultivating Genius: An Equity Framework for Culturally and Historically Responsive Literacy (Scholastic, 2020), 67.

Who do our students see reflected back at them in the classroom? If identity is the dynamic dance between who we think we are, who others assert we are, and who we want to be, what music are we as educators using to facilitate this dance for our students in the learning environment? What does our lyrical content, rhythm, tempo, and melody tell the learning community about itself–or at least, confesses what we believe about it? Do we create harmony and space to build beautiful life-affirming crescendos, or do we play a cacophonous discord of developmental harm?

Arguably, identity is at the heart of the matter in the ongoing battles over curriculum and information access (i.e. book banning) in public schools across the nation. Curriculum that provide opportunities for students to “deeply know themselves and the histories and truths of other diverse people . . . ” and to learn “about the cultures of [others] . . . ” so that they might know “how to respect, love, and live in harmony with others who don’t look or know the world as they do”1 is under fire by those who have enjoyed a privileged identity reflected the archaic imagery of what once was considered the national identity.2

Some laws and political stances, such as those in Idaho, Tennessee, Florida, and other states, both reinforce the archaic national identity and its privileging as well as argue for a position that students are to wait until “college or adulthood to discover self for the first time.”3 These same practices suggest that student identity is defined solely by students’ parents or guardians until they become adults. These practices harm students and produce emotionally and intellectually stunted adults. While being emotionally and intellectually stunted and lacking a sense of identity is ‘fine’ for those insisting on such laws and practices, it is unhealthy and harmful to our students.

Within every classroom, a set of educational standards and objectives are laid out. The goal is literacy. By literacy, I mean more than reading and writing. I mean literacy as “connected to acts of self-empowerment, self-determination, and self-liberation” and the accumulation of knowledge and the use of skills “as tools to further shape, define, and navigate their lives.”4 However, “[before] getting to literacy skill development such as decoding, fluency, comprehension, writing, or any other content-learning standards, students must authentically see themselves in the learning.”5 It is vital that students see themselves as equal partners in an educational experience that aims to help them develop into educated and fully realized humans, rather than passive spectators gaining skills from the leftover scraps of those who have been privileged to be active participants.

This requires that I, as an educator, must first see my students. I must discover who they are and the assets they bring to the classroom through their diverse backgrounds, languages, and experiences. Every student carries with them “funds of knowledge”6 that can be leveraged to their advantage. It is up to me, and all educators, to tap into these funds to better reach and teach our students. Moreso, we can use these funds to reflect our students back at themselves in the classroom in ways that both increase their literacy skills and allow them to further develop their identity.

The music I wish to orchestrate in my classroom is one that will facilitate a healthy dance between the intersecting elements of identity. As my students learn to critically evaluate Texts,7 apply logic and reason, question, challenge, and build up the tools with which they will transform the world, I want them to see themselves and others through a lens of humanity. Some might argue that recognizing culture, language, gender-identity, ethnicity, and race are counter-intuitive to a human centered lens, but these fail to understand the multifaceted elements and experiences that make us human. Likewise, these elements inform us of the conditions and experiences of others–allowing us to take note and intervene when the life and well-being of our fellow humans are placed at risk. To be honest, I believe that it is the fear of our students’ understanding of humanity that motivates those who argue against our students’ access to education and information.

Education is liberation, and liberation threatens the status quo; it disrupts the power structure. If our students learn to authentically see and understand themselves, defended by a bulwark of education and literacy, then they will be much harder to control. They will be less likely to accept the identities thrust upon them by others. When students see themselves in the curriculum, when they discover how literacy can give shape to their identities and understanding of the world around them, I theorize they are more likely to buy into the work it will take to ultimately empower them to create their own paths and forge their own destinies.

———-
1. Gholdy Muhammad, Cultivating Genius: An Equity Framework for Culturally and Historically Responsive Literacy (Scholastic, 2020), 67.
2. The national identity is composed of the myths, legends, and edited stories of the United States that portray white Western, Judeo-Christian ideals and white men as the Paragons of America. Non-white and non-cis-heteronormative people are considered “lesser” or “less than” American when compared to white, cis, heteronormative, American men. This is reflected in cultural dog whistles, state and federal laws, policies and practices, and our societal institutions. Several texts are available which explore this issue in great detail, including: White Too Long: The Legacy of White Supremacy in American Christianity by Dr. Robert P. Jones, The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together by Dr. Heather McGhee, Linguistic Justice: Black Language, Literacy, and Pedagogy by Dr. April Baker-Bell, Critical Race Theory: The Key Writings That Formed the Movement by Dr. Kimberlé Crenshaw, et. al., and many others. (Yes. I have read all of these texts, and I strongly recommend them them.)
3. Muhammad, Cultivating Genius, 67.
4. Muhammad, Cultivating Genius, 22.
5. Muhammad, Cultivating Genius, 69.
6. Norma Gonzales, Luis C. Moll, and Cathy Amanti, Funds of Knowledge: Theorizing Practices in Household, Communities, and Classrooms (Routledge, 2005).

7. By “Texts,” I mean capital “T” Texts. Texts refers to more that just the written word. It referst to all media, information sources, systems, policies, practices, life scripts, and every medium by which we come to know ourselves and the world around us.

Why I Teach . . .

Education is liberation. Too often, we are spoken to in the language of “can’t.” There are too many reasons why we “can’t” do something:

“No, you cannot be a musician.” “No, you cannot be an astronaut.” “No, you cannot find non-capitalistic solutions to homelessness, hunger, poverty, or violence.”

The reasons for the “can’ts” are often burdened by a sense of ‘the way things have always been,’ threats to the status quo, and fear—”play it safe; this is how you make money and live successfully.”

These burdens can be convincing because our society has been raised by generations of ‘intuitive thinkers’ rather than critical and reflective thinkers. The latter challenges the status quo and drives us toward innovation and progress; the former relies on whether a thing ‘feels’ true, and too often that feeling is underpinned by fear leading to pattern repitition and innovative paralysis.

I teach because I believe the world can be better. I teach because I believe students get just one life to live, and therefore, I owe it to them to equip them with the best tools and strategies that will allow them to make the most out of that one life. I teach because students need to know that their one life is not lived in solitude but interconnected with the lives and the world around them.

No student should be forced to limit their aspirations for the sake of “financial security.” Have you seen the economy? Groceries have gone up by 25%, surpassing the average 11% inflation rate because of unchecked and unfettered corporate greed—financial security is an illusion.

I want my students to know they can change the world and steer us toward a more inclusive and equitable reality where community and people are seen through a lens of humanity rather than our current lens of commodity.

Education is liberation, and our students deserve the freedom to be the best humans they can be. They deserve to live fulfilling, meaningful lives they can be proud of.

This is why I teach.

We Never Wanted to Look

Based on true events.

A black student, resolved never to let them
make him feel lesser, is expelled when he
stuffs slurs back into the mouth of some
privileged white kid. The white kid finds a
rally coming to his aid, pouring out
sympathy for the injuries delivered by the
savage, the tiger, the animal, the thug he
provoked—they’re just so loud and violent.

In the same breath, kids on the football
team reenact the brutal qualities of their
fathers as they wrap stones in sheets of
paper and chuck them at the queer kids
when the adults aren’t watching, and I
swear, these mother fuckers are never
watching. This way, when the queer kids
open up their wrists in the hope of ‘better
luck next time,’ the adults can claim they
never saw it coming.

In a classroom, Mr. Peterson, a nominally
qualified science teacher, tells the
brown kids that systemic racism is a lie—
racism, he tells them, ended with the
civil war, biology was settled in six days,
and the most important question you can
ask yourself is: is there life after death? I
wonder if he knows the number of kids
racing to uncover the answer because of
people like him.

The spirit of cruelty is alive and well, here.
Cultivated by a system and culture caught
up in the march of June 1929, when over
three-hundred klansmen made their way
down Draper Street to insist this small
town is for whites only—with the exception
of that one black family they allow to live
on the outskirts to prove to the world that
they’re not just a bunch of bigots.

Broken mirrors and skipping records have
a lot in common with this place. We are unable
to see ourselves with any honesty,
unable to get up and change that goddamn
minstrel tune we’ve been playing since
1873. We’re afraid to look up because the
trees have eyes. We know this because we
hung them there, like the brown Christ we
nail to a tree annually, on every Good
Friday. Is it a wonder, then, that the image
of breaking the shells of rainbow colored
eggs is lost on us?

Look, there are a lot of things you can try
in our small town, just not love or
compassion or mercy or acceptance,
because that—that is just some anti-
American, communists bullshit, and we
don’t take kindly to that sort of thing
around here.