Love

It’s official. My first year of teaching is OVER, and I could honestly not be any happier. It’s been a year of tumultuous ups and downs and crying and laughing and moments I won’t ever forget. I wrote my students a letter and had them read it this past week. I told them I couldn’t read it to them because I would start crying, to which they excitedly BEGGED me to read it to them. I received sweet and genuine letters from students, an abundance of hugs, and “we will miss you” yells down the hall.

This year has been met with mild, infrequent, opposition, as I was a member of an organization that is what some would consider highly controversial in the Education world. We, as Teach for America members, are often considered undereducated, underprepared, too expensive, or even, in some cases, not worth the money or time it takes to hire us in school systems.

I cannot speak to these opinions. I can only speak to my intentions as a teacher – as a human. I have fallen in love with teaching, and would be the first to admit I have a long way to go in terms of Professional Development. I would also be the first to admit, however, that some of the best teachers I EVER had in life weren’t necessarily those with Education Degrees and weren’t Pedagogical Masters, though some had all of these qualifications, to be sure.

The teachers I still remember, who taught me the most about life, were those who always let me know I was loved, supported, and capable of ANYTHING in this life. They didn’t always say the right things, sometimes they lost a paper of mine, or maybe they even lashed out in anger. However, they showed me the resilience I needed to be successful in life.

I love my students, and want nothing but the best for them. I appreciate them for their daily lessons on patience, grit, and LOVE. I owe my new life perspectives to my students, and, by default, to this organization some might always be wary of.

I hope you all know that love and mutual respect, at the end of the day, is the most important thing we can show one another. I hope my kids felt the love in the words of my letter (found below), and if any of you are struggling, know someone, somewhere, feels this love for you as well.

“So, this is the last day in a year of firsts. It was the first time you walked the halls of a high school. It was the first time (maybe) you got to see Dr. ______ lose his mind at a pep rally. Some of you had never heard of Shakespeare. What’s a Haiku? Some got a “B” for the first time because high school is a little harder than middle school. Some of you had first boyfriends and girlfriends. Some of you felt disappointment, some felt joy, and none of you felt those two things for the last time.

It was a year of firsts for me though, too. My freshman year, if you will. I learned that pencils disappear really quickly– I mean REALLY quickly. group work isn’t as easy to sell as I originally thought it would be. I talk more than I realized. Grading papers takes forever, and writing a test takes even longer. Being a young teacher is an interesting experience — I have boyfriends, husbands, girlfriends and NO friends depending on the day, and some of you went to great lengths to find pictures of me from college (don’t do that by the way… NOT cool).

It was also the first time in my life I realized how much love a human is capable of feeling. I remember a few years ago, watching the story of the Sandy Hook shooting. I remember one story, out of all the accounts of the tragedy, resonated with me most of all.

Victoria Soto was a 27 year-old first grade teacher. December 14th, 2012 started out like any normal day, but it turned into a day that would go down in American History. Tragically, on this day, Adam Lanza entered Sandy Hook Elementary school, opening fire on those inside. 28 people died that day, including 20 6-7 year-olds, 6 faculty members, Lanza’s mother, and Adam himself. This deadly rampage left an impression on me that I couldn’t and still can’t shake, even to this day. But Victoria, who hid her first graders in a closet, told Lanza they were in the auditorium, and then threw herself in front of a torrent of bullets as some students ran from their hiding spot- has always haunted me.

How does a 27 year-old woman, with her whole life in front of her, sacrifice herself in such a horrific and tragic way?

I searched the depths of my mind and soul and heart for that answer for months after the shooting, and I never could come up with an answer.

Until this year. Until I met each one of you.

I never understood what it meant to believe in someone so entirely, so completely, that you only imagine the best for them. I never knew what it would mean to care about someone’s wellbeing and health and conscience as much as I care about each of you. And I never knew how I could imagine my life gone in place of someone else’s. Until you all. I imagine you all in the future and you’re in the career of your dreams, married with kids, or not married without kids, and happy. You might live in Inez, making it a better place, or you might live in Montana. I can’t imagine the details, and I guess that’s because the possibilities are seriously endless.

I’ve had nights where I can’t fall asleep because I’m imagining the unimaginable. I’m like Victoria Soto, someone wants to hurt you all, someone wants to take you and the potential within you and they want to eliminate it. That thought, is the worst I’ve ever had to fathom. Someone bangs on my door, and I have you all hidden in the corner. You’re all scared, but I’m resolute. No one will touch you – at least if I have anything to say about it.

I’ve never felt that way. And I never knew I would, especially at such a young age. Victoria was 27, I’m 23, and most of you are 15ish. If you take anything with you from my class, I hope you know that you’re valuable despite any word you’ve ever heard that makes you think otherwise.

Don’t make the same mistake I did only a couple years ago. Don’t define yourself by what other people think you’re like. Don’t measure yourself by considering words that are only spoken with hate or envy or malice. Realize that you have people who think so highly of you, they would lay down their lives to make sure yours was a little better. Take comfort in knowing that you’re so important, so loved, that I can definitively say I will never, ever forget you. And when you feel unsure of yourself or feel like someone isn’t treating you fairly, maybe you could think about me. Think about this year, and remember that in a lifetime of firsts, you’ll always have someone ready to defend you, advocate for you, and love you enough to step in front of bullets, literally or metaphorically, just to see you happy and willing to take on the world.”

To end this year, rather appropriately, I thought I should throw it back to the motto that made me embark on this journey in the first place. I believe in these words today, just as much as I did when I worked in Tanzania, and as much as I did that day I applied to this program: “One day, all children in this nation will have the opportunity to attain an excellent education.” I am grateful, tonight, that education is not confined within the walls of a classroom, but is a constant state of being. I am grateful to learn and teach and love anywhere, anytime.

Catch y’all on the fall side of summer break!!!

With love and well wishes,

Halie

Discomfort

A few days ago, I drove to school under a blanket of smoke-thick fog. One of the sights that continuously mesmerizes me in Kentucky is the fog covered mountains allowing in streams of delicate sunlight. I felt myself begin to feel anxious despite the natural display of beauty and tranquility.

That day, my classes read about three court cases that dealt exclusively, in one way or another, with racially motivated crimes and trials. They learned about the Scottsboro Boys of the 1930’s. These 9 boys were accused and convicted of a gang rape that did not happen. They learned about Emmett Till – the young boy who was lynched in the 1950’s not far from where I taught this summer. I told my current students about how one of my students this summer in Ruleville was the first to introduce me to this mammoth case that is, interestingly and fittingly, considered to be a spark of the Civil Rights Movement. They also explored the investigation of Officer Darren Wilson and the death of Michael Brown. While they were, for the most part, unaware of the two earlier cases, they were acutely aware of this case. With this awareness came unmitigated opinions/statements with smatterings of insightful and thoughtful commentary.

As we have been reading To Kill a Mockingbird over the past 5 weeks, I have come to create a partial sense of comfort while engaging with students in conversations involving racial tension, past and present, in the United States. This “comfort” is only partial, as I am wildly undereducated and ignorant when it comes to race relations. I am still struggling through discussions of “white privilege” and “white guilt” and “anti-racism action.” I still feel butterflies in my stomach when I sense tension and disagreement in the room, and I still hear whispers and see facial expressions that read “Ms. Putorek is an idiot, and I’m still racist.”

Let me be clear, however, that the looks and whispers of contention are few and far between. My students have blown me away with their genuine concern for other humans.

“Ms. Putorek, why were white people so MEAN back then? How could they kill them and find them guilty and stuff when they obviously didn’t do it?”

“What do you mean Tom Robinson is guilty? HIS LEFT HAND DOESN’T EVEN WORK!”

“Stupid racist white people.”

“I just feel really sad. They’re people.”

These are just some of the cries of rage and confusion and sadness that blew me away this quarter. I have had my worries and fears for this generation of students assuaged, for the most part, because of my amazing kids.

But these moments of light have been indeed overshadowed in a few situations. Today, for instance, I had one student, in response to the Ferguson article, tell me that “they always complain when a black person gets shot, but when a black person shoots us we don’t protest and complain.” This statement made me remember another student from this summer telling me that “when a white man shoots black people, they give him a bullet proof vest, but if a black man shoots someone, they put a target on his head.” These ideas come from students who looked very different, and who have very different life experiences, and one of the most complicated parts of being a teacher is knowing how to respond to both types of statements.

It is in these moments that I find myself unable to articulate a response. So, when in doubt, and in response to my classroom discussions and worrisome Facebook posts I’ve been unlucky enough to encounter, I decided to do some research. I am by no means an expert, but I felt like it was time I addressed issues I’ve held under the surface for a very long time.

WARNING: If you plan on getting offended by my words, be prepared to back up your complaints (sent by email or another private message) by data and stats. I am only presenting my view of things, presenting statistics from the sources mentioned/cited at the end of the post, and am genuinely not interested in offending ANYONE. I am posting about information I find necessary as well as fascinating, though disturbing. My students have been brave by speaking to their vulnerabilities in my class, and I feel obligated to, in turn, write about my recent and growing concerns (many based on the #AllLivesMatter and #BlueLivesMatter movements).

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The thing I find most disturbing about the #BlackLivesMatter movement is the virtually immediate response from many of my friends on Facebook and Twitter. There were posts of outrage and confusion, because, obviously #AllLivesMatter, right? And now, we are seeing the beginnings of another shoot-off social movement called #BlueLivesMatter.

Let us address the elephant in the room, shall we?

OF COURSE, all lives matter. OF COURSE police officers should not be murdered for being cops. Their job is difficult and scary and the fact that the vast majority are law abiding and honorable and are simply trying to see justice served, does not necessarily mean that every police officer operates from a place of integrity. The #BlackLivesMatter movement, as far as I’m aware, was never an aggressive front. The desire was never to target cops (who are, in a way, already targeted due to the job description. Police officers willingly sign up to be the law enforcers they are, bringing with their title, the unfortunate implication of dealing exclusively with criminals and individuals typically considered to be deviant and potentially threatening), but was, instead, a movement aimed at promoting awareness of racial injustices that still occur – yes, even today.

I really resonated with an analogy I heard a few months ago regarding the #BlackLivesMatter movement. Imagine you went to a 5k event raising money and awareness for Colon Cancer Research. You know people who have died from Colon Cancer, and you and your friends are there to support the community suffering with, and fighting, this disease. While at the run, you notice a group gathering across the street with signs that read “BREAST CANCER KILLS TOO,” and things of that nature. Sure, Breast Cancer does kill, and it certainly gets A LOT of coverage and media spotlight (there’s an entire pink month, really). However, those protestors, while advertising for Breast Cancer, are actually undermining an entire event and an entire population.

The #BlackLivesMatter movement, by trying to inform a nation and bring awareness to racism and discriminatory actions, was undermined by the #AllLivesMatter movement, and now, by the #BlueLivesMatter movement. Like I mentioned prior, all lives, obviously, matter…but under what pretenses do you believe one subgroup of lives matters more? Intention does not matter nearly as much as perception, and I cannot help but perceive hints of prejudice in these hash tags that followed Ferguson.

Yes, I understand that MLK was actively petitioning for equal rights in the 50’s and 60’s: that doesn’t mean racism and prejudice disappeared. Just because someone doesn’t don a white sheet, doesn’t mean there aren’t prejudices that inform discriminatory behavior. We are a part of a society that is dominated by WHITE. We aren’t necessarily to blame for the racist tendencies ALL (yes, you read that right) white people hold, but we are charged to act in direct opposition to these tendencies.

But don’t listen to ME. Listen to data. (I could spend days and days collecting all the numbers that still baffle me, but I will stick with the three most critical data points so as not to put y’all to sleep with numbers). The following are the most staggering numbers I’ve encountered. I’ve read about these numbers in several articles and books over the past few years, but I chose only one peer reviewed article for the sake of time and space. These numbers honestly changed the way I perceive the world around me.

First up, according to the United States Census Bureau, the Black population in the United States sits at approximately 12% of the entire population. The White population is approximately 72%, with the remaining percentages encompassing other minority groups like Asian, American Indian, Pacific Islander, and Latino.

Incarceration rates of Black men, 2013:

“In 2013, the state and federal prison population was 37% Black, 32% White, and 22% Hispanic(Carson, 2014). In contrast, that year, the U.S. population was 15% Black, 76%non-Hispanic White, and 19% Hispanic (U.S. Census Bureau, 2013). Currently, nearly 3% of all Black male U.S. residents of all ages are incarcerated, while 0.5%of White males are (Carson, 2014).”

Death by police officer [disputes still occur as to whether these deaths are “unjustified,” according to studies by the Federal Bureau of Investigation for the Uniform Crime Report (UCR). Only 750 precincts voluntarily submit data of this nature to be analyzed. News paper analysis is considered a decent study source in determining “justified vs. unjustified” deaths, this makes me think of Ferguson], Black men, 2015:

“Indeed, newspaper organizations doing their own analyses find that more than 460 people were killed by police in the first half of 2015. Of those, Black individuals…were more than three times as likely to be killed and twice as likely to be unarmed (Swaine, Laughland, & Lartey, 2015; see also Kindy, 2015).”

Juvenile Delinquency, Black schoolchildren discipline rates:

“It follows that although African Americans represent 16% of all youth in theU.S., they constitute 35% of juvenile court referrals in 2013 (Sickmund, Sladky,& Kang, 2015).”

“But, Halie…Black people commit more crimes. Of course they get shot and killed more, and get arrested more. They live in the ghetto and are all drug dealers.”

If this is your thought, I would highly suggest reading up on the cycles and systems of oppression in our country that might be informing or misguiding this thought. Also, remember and take into account that Black people are still the minority group, meaning, actually, that white people still commit more crimes. (This also makes me think of the double standard between white “mentally ill” school shooters versus black “thugs” and “criminals,”… another thought for another time).

**I could never give you enough data in this post. PLEASE do your research. I have had the privilege of reading some great research over the past year for TFA, so I’m happy to make suggestions. Let me know.**

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I was so pleasantly astounded by one of my students’ responses to Ferguson. Context for why this student’s response surprised me so much: earlier in the quarter he was really skeptical about the idea of reverse racism, I.E. that it does not exist. He, like many people, really believed that black people could be racist (if you think this is possible, do research on the definition of an “–ISM” versus prejudices and discrimination). He wants to be a corrections officer, and he has, prior to the “Mockingbird” unit, expressed disdain towards or about people who are different than he. Anyways, he wrote that he feels like “the Michael Brown case is no different than the Emmett Till case. In both cases the white men were guilty and didn’t get convicted. Even though we say times have changed, you can’t allow another person to be killed for no apparent reason. Times are no different now than the 1930’s.” (I added the picture of his paper at the end of this post)!

Can you imagine my surprise to find that my 14 year old students are perceptive enough to recognize the demeaning ways humans treat other humans? Can you imagine my surprise to find that you do not, in fact, need a college education to be acutely aware of the disparity amongst people?

This awareness alone allows me to feel very heated when my college educated friends and family fail to see the cycles of oppression and hate that are literally all around us. Does the media perpetuate certain images? Absolutely. Are there exceptions to every rule? Sure. However, the exceptions are few and far between when there is psychological, sociological, economic, and political research that establishes the points and numbers mentioned above and more.

I grew up believing that people lie, but numbers do not. Percentages of incarceration are fact – you can count the number of black and white faces behind bars. You can also count the number of white people and recognize that we are still the majority (until approximately 2044).

The beauty of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” in my opinion, has always been the ease with which Scout makes sense of the world she sees around her. Her friends call her dad a “nigger lover,” and Scout needs to understand why they used that word, a word she didn’t know,  as if it were a bad thing. What does the word mean, and why does her dad need to defend him? Morality is at the forefront of the novel, and I have witnessed my kids make connections to their own lives. They are noticing that the choices they make reflect the types of individuals they want to be perceived as. I remember being in their shoes (Atticus would be proud), and remember the moment I found out Tom Robinson is found guilty, despite being physically unable to commit the crime he was accused of. I remember the feeling in my stomach and the outrage I felt, but I don’t remember having the courage to tell my teacher how mad I was. I don’t remember seeking out friends to tell them how unfair it was. I don’t remember displaying that courage. I remember choosing, instead, to live in my own bubble, content to hold my own beliefs close to heart.

I am forever grateful that my students have pushed outside of their comfort zone this year, and in turn, have helped me move out of mine. As I write this paragraph, I realize that I’m finishing a chapter of my story, and they helped write it. My first year of teaching has truly been a roller coaster, and although it isn’t quite over officially, I feel truly transformed by the lessons I learned in my students’ presence. They didn’t always do or say or believe what I felt like they should, but goodness…they taught me more than I ever could have imagined. I am more patient, more persistent, more comfortable with discomfort for the sake of another person. I am writing a blog I would not have dared to write last summer for fear of causing offense.

I am writing this for the people of color I love so much and for the white people who walk alongside them, all fighting for equity and justice that we are still learning about and grappling with ourselves. We have no choice what color we are born. We have no choice what family we are born into. We have no choice what area of the planet we are born. We do have a choice, however, about how we treat other humans, and I choose love.

I am honored to have friends who date people they love with zero regard to race or gender or occupation (that’s your shout out, Meg). I see my students care about other people with the same lack of preference. They support each other (okay, MOST of the time) and people they have never, and will never meet, and they display courage I wish I possessed. I will never be the same after this year, and I believe I have witnessed a counterpart of courage this year in my students, necessary and refreshing: the vibrant tenacity and zeal to learn about something you don’t necessarily want to learn about, all the while realizing you just might be better for it in the end.

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

http://www.census.gov/quickfacts/table/RHI225214/00

Kahn, K. B. and Martin, K. D. (2016), Policing and Race: Disparate Treatment, Perceptions, and Policy Responses. Social Issues and Policy Review, 10: 82–121. doi: 10.1111/sipr.12019

https://www.facinghistory.org/sites/default/files/publications/Teaching_Mockingbird.pdf(I’ve been using this resource with my students for our “Mockingbird” unit!

I also highly recommend Ta-Nehisi Coates’ “Between the World and Me.” FABULOUS read!