![]() Kids cannot graduate high school like me, thinking that the root of all problems is the people that don’t look like them. I want to teach students that they are the only force that can change this world. I want to teach them to think critically about their position in the world, to question everything, to dig and fight and demand answers. ![]() My interest is in working with students that have been under-served by this society. If I seem too eager, it’s because the world needs this change to start happening now. If I seem too optimistic, it’s because I am. If I seem too passionate, it’s because I am. Instead, we must give them the tools to navigate and fix it. We must stop preparing our children to enter an unjust, biased, backwards world. It will be fixed by teachers learning along side students, growing with them, tackling these complex issues with determination and diversity. It will be fixed by giving young people a platform to speak and by listening to their voices. It will be fixed by re-framing what “smart” looks like and letting kids see themselves as knowledge- holders. It will be fixed by teachers willing to spark difficult conversations and let them play out in the classroom. It will not be mended by self-automated cars or Facebook or investment bankers. In order to do this, it’s important to realize that the world will not be fixed by the next Apple watch. I no longer wanted to “fix” kids I wanted to fix the world. I got angry.Īs I became aware of the systematic inequality that reverberates through this world, my perspective shifted. I said their names: “Trayvon Martin,” “Eric Garner,” “Alton Sterling,” “Philando Castille.” I watched as 46 unarmed club-goers were murdered in Orlando and the climate of homophobia that lead to such a tragedy. ![]() I witnessed mass incarceration as the private prison industry expanded. Their voices echo in my head: “Go back to where they came from.” I heard educated members of my family condemn undocumented immigrants, refugees, and people of color. I watched poor resource allocation lead to the death of thousands affected by natural disasters. I heard Alicia Garza, the founder of Black Lives Matter, speak to my university as black boys were murdered by an institution that swore to protect them. I watched Brock Turner serve a laughable sentence after sexually assaulting an unconscious woman next to a dumpster. I saw mass shootings in Paris, in Colorado, in California, in Oregon, in South Carolina, in Texas, in Connecticut as gun lobbyists pushed to keep guns accessible to all. ![]() I listened to Donald Trump address a nation with dark, hateful rhetoric that sought to criminalize everyone that doesn’t look like him. I tell you this not because I’m proud of it, but because in one way, it was the beginning of my teaching career. And in another, it’s a representation of how ignorant I was, even as a high school graduate (with good grades!).Īs I moved through four years of college at The University of Nebraska-Lincoln, I became aware of my surroundings for the first time. I was stuck in a white savior complex of my own design. I tossed around words like “inner city,” “at risk kids,” and “under-privileged,” in my majority white, suburban high school, dreaming up scenes where black and brown kids sat quietly in rows, answering my questions, learning from me, in true Hilary Swank fashion. So, naturally, I gravitated toward the English classroom. Now you have to understand, I was no good with science and even worse with math. Not Romeo and Juliet, or To Kill a Mockingbird. My desire to become a teacher stemmed from a naïve proclamation at age 12: “I want to save the world!” Although I like to be surrounded by books, books are not what made me want to become an English teacher. The desire didn’t come from Wuthering Heights, or Frankenstein.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |