Saturday, May 30, 2020

White Colleagues - We Have Work to Do.

In the last couple of weeks, watching the horrific deaths of black Americans Ahmaud Arbrey and George Floyd I feel physically sickened, disgusted, and angry at the institutions that perpetuate racism and the white Americans who hatefully perpetuate racism.  Immediately, my thoughts turn how these events are impacting the students and colleagues of color at my school who I work with and share community with on a daily basis. I am heartbroken.

Until last year, I firmly believed myself to be so inclusive and progressive - I am accepting of all people, a humanitarian, someone who fights for the underdog. I raised my children to be "color blind" and to fight for justice for all people. The majority of my professional life, I taught in a mostly hispanic and white high school and actively practiced "equity" in instruction in order to provide access for all students. I have taken young people on service trips to work in Central American countries in poverty stricken, underserved communities.  Surely, all of this means that I am so "enlightened" and "awoke"! It wasn't until I came to Tamalpais High that I realized how ignorant I was - I didn't know what I didn't know. I intellectually knew WHAT racism was, but had not done the work to raise my own racial consciousness about privilege and take action to confront bias and assumption and system practices that perpetuate inequities. I wasn't doing the deep work of confronting and dismantling by asking questions and then making answers actionable. 

In Fall of 2018, I left my work at Napa Valley Unified School District. My whole heart and soul had been poured into the people and the classrooms of this district for 18 years. I never thought I would leave this community. After a year and a half of deep trauma and shame to my family; after an event that crushed the lives of many young people due to adult mismanagement; after doors closed to me because of the stigma of my family name - I left. And even when I landed at Tamalpais High School because they chose to take a chance on me as a leader, I felt homesick for my Napa High School community.  But what I gained by taking this risk has been tremendous. I have learned more about race in America than I have in my whole professional career - the way it is institutionalized and perpetuated and ignored by those in power. I have had the opportunity to work with a leader of color who actively pushes my thinking and creates the space for me as a white woman to recognize my privilege and my fragility and insists that my work is in service of dismantling inequities for students of color and colleagues of color. Prior to coming to Tam, I intellectualized that we as human beings don't have a shared lived experience, but in practice, I moved through my work with the assumption that we do. Working at Tam for JC Farr and with our Marin City students has been the most powerful professional experience of my career in changing my perspective.

JC Farr, my principal, urges his team to work from their "why".  I have to admit that as I make the transition from teacher to administrator, my why has been a bit out of focus. After a series of racialized events this year at Tam High and now the events nationwide, it hits me deeply that my "why" urgently needs refocusing. Before coming to Tam, I would have told you that my why as a leader was to create classrooms that were engaging and equitable for ALL students. Vague. Maybe even boring.  Or that my why is my brother who is so learning disabled that even at 52, he cannot read and has little access to opportunity because of what he experienced throughout his education.  True. But still theoretical. After taking students to work in Central America, I found a quote from Kofi Anan that I had as my email signature for a few years - education is a human right with immense power to transform. On its foundation rest the cornerstones of freedom, democracy, and sustainable human development.”  Yes. This feels clearer.  Up until this week, I believed the reason I stay in this profession and drive 3 hours a day is because agree with what Mr. Anan says about the transformative power of education for all people. All people.  This is no longer enough.

After being an educational leader through the racialized events at Tam this last year and the events in our nation this week my why is to to CHANGE thru action. I must speak up. I must work harder. I must interrupt and alter practices and policies that create inequities for young people and I must do this on a daily basis.  I must speak up about how there is nothing okay with the fact that my young students of color and my colleagues are seeing evil and cruel images of violence against their humanity.  We as white educators must recognize that our lived experience is tremendously different and this recognition must change our understanding of our role as educators in our school. Anything less would be shameful. 

I am mad. I am disgusted. I am terribly sad for my colleagues of color who have to consume these kinds of images.  I am frightened for our students of color who are consuming these images and who daily live with the fear for their physical safety as they navigate daily activities - like Ahmaud Arbrey. The same daily activities, mind you that as white people are not threat to our physical and civil liberties. Do we all get that? Really?  Do we get it? I go running each morning, and not once I have ever been stricken with anxiety or fear if a police car rolls by, or if I find myself in unfamiliar territory. Do we all understand our privilege when we come to work each day and see that most of the people who do what we do look like us, and so we have the privilege of feeling "same"? Do we get that our students of color and colleagues of color move though this learning space with a different lived experience that is heavier and more painful?  I don't know that we have up until now, but I know that nothing changes if we don't wake up to that fact. Right now, I must get uncomfortable - it is the least I can do - and get very awake, very quickly to the inequities in lived experiences. I must be willing to ask hard questions of my colleagues about why we do what we do, AND ask what aren't we doing. Nothing changes, if nothing changes. I am failing at my job if I am not doing this on a daily basis.  

A colleague of color at Tam said something on a Zoom call the other day that is another call to action for me. She shared that we have students of color who are doing much better during this closure because they do not have to come to a space where they feel "othered" on a daily basis; because the physical anxiety and stress of walking onto our campus and walking into our classrooms with predominantly white classmates is not a daily battle for them anymore.  I hadn't even thought about that... that admission makes me feel disgusting - that my white privilege blinded me to the painful experience of some of our students. Not good enough.  The whole staff of a high school serves ALL kids at at that school - whether they are in our classrooms or on our rosters or in my alphabet or not.  We are all sharing a campus; we are a community of learners and our actions have collective impact on creating the culture and climate on a campus.  

In addition to recognizing the difference in our lived experiences, white teachers and leaders MUST ask ourselves these questions WITH REGULARTY:
  • Why do our students of color feel othered? 
  • What can I do differently in my day to day instruction, or interactions or curriculum choices to change the culture at Tam to one of inclusion and safety? 
  • As a white educator, how am I showing up in this space so that all my students feel safe and seen? 
  • What do our students of color need from me as a white educator in order to have the same access to opportunity as anyone else in this class or on this campus? 
  • What do my white students need to learn in order to change racism in this country and what role do I play as their teacher, or their administrator to be sure this is happening?
The yearning to "do something" is rolling around in my head - and from where I sit, doing something means to start talking. Mr. Farr has been leading us through the COVID-19 crisis with the mantra of empathy, love and compassion. He, as a black man, has also shouldered the heavy burden of championing our equity work, making us aware of disproportionality and now must watch the incredible, disgusting images of black men in this country being dehumanized.  The work of raising our collective racial consciousness is not his work to do alone; it is ours as white allies.  I must start asking questions about why we do what we do and who the decisions affect most deeply and most adversely?  Not wait for my colleagues of color to begin the dialogue. And the time has definitely come for us to STOP waiting to have hard conversations with our white students about the impact of race and privilege.

I drive 3 hours a day to Tamalpais High School because I want school to be different for our students of color by raising the racial consciousness of our white students. Education as the cornerstone for freedom, democracy and sustainable human development? Yes. But for me, it is the one space in this crazy world where I can impact the raising collective awareness and building humanity. I hope that those of my friends who are working with young people as educators, coaches or leaders come with me to do this work. It unconscionable if we don't.


Saturday, March 21, 2020

A salmon bike with a wicker basket.

Sometimes you have to go all the back to move forward.  I'm sure someone way more profound than I has stated this before.  But I find it to be resoundingly true for me at this moment in my life.  And for me, going back means reconnecting with things that defined me at some point or other in my life.  I guess as we get older and have to do the job of raising kids, facing change, navigating heartbreak, burying parents, watching children find their wings, managing a household, nurturing relationships, we can inadvertently forget ourselves and lose sight of what brings us joy.

My daughter and I bought bikes yesterday so that we could spend her last summer "home" as a bike posse.  We have big plans to ride our bikes everyday - to work, to get coffee or fro yo, or to just explore.  I chose a salmon colored beach cruiser with a wicker basket.  She is so pretty.  As we rode last night to get movies from RedBox, I was instantly transported to my 11 year old self, riding freely over the streets of Kailua on my beloved bike.  I spent my summer on my bike - riding to the community pool, only after stopping at the corner store across from the library to pick up a large bag of Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies, a pack of 3 giant chewy Sweettart candies and an orange Fanta soda.  I would spend hours in the library and then as the heat became too much, head across the way to the community pool to meet my friends.  We would swim until my eyes burned and the street lamps were coming on.  Somedays we would just cruise around town, to the beach, or to the store or have races up and down the streets where the grass came straight to the sidewalk and the asphalt was grainy and pocketed.  My bike was a Schwinn with a white banana seat and a white wicker basket with the colorful flowers on the front. Sometimes I put cards in my spokes so it would make sound.

I have such vivid memories of little Kailua town and the long, straight, flat stretch of road between my house on Kanaha Street and the tiny town where I roamed free. And as I am on the eve of sending my girl into the world to be independent and begin her "grown up" life at college, I am reminded how empowering independence is for a young girl; how much it helps shape us into resilient, capable and creative women, able to navigate a complicated world bravely. As I write this, it all becomes clear - the role my bike played in my childhood, the way in which the freedom it provided helped me become brave, and strong and gave me joy.

Being a grown up, with almost adult children can be lonely and honestly for me, really sad. My heart gets heavy as I redefine myself as my babies grow their own wings.  Buying these bikes filled me with joy for a moment. My heart clapped happily as I rode the streets of my Napa neighborhood, and I felt deeply aware of my authentic self in that moment.   Who knows if Abby and I will become the badass bike posse I imagine. Doesn't really matter. She will have her own childhood moments that will define her. I am fulfilled in simply the act of buying the bike for her and my fingers are crossed that she too will find the same moments of joy.