This one is dedicated specifically to my educators of color and conscience,
When I became a teacher, I inherited a tradition of Black teaching that spans this country’s history since time immemorial. Similar to Black people in any official government role, Black teaching came with the complications of the job. From the standards and curriculum to the policy mandates handed down to us from administrators from every government level. Like so many of those roles, we are truly agents of the state working at the behest of the tax-funding apparatus. Unlike the other professions, Black teaching has just enough of a wedge for us to do so subversively and, in many instances, outwardly activist.
Teaching with justice in mind doesn’t necessarily contradict the job itself, unlike, say, law enforcement.
Once I learned what it meant to teach through my identity at my center, not simply as an aside, I noted the difference in my expressions of said teacher. I, like many of you, found elements of my pedagogy and curriculum that needed remaking and, where possible, complete abandonment. Scripted lessons never made it past my classroom bulletin board. Math problems that didn’t make sense to my students became solutions steeped in the neighborhoods and resources they knew. I learned when I needed to put my foot down as an authority and when to teach kids how to teach themselves.
When they graduated, I would tell them that I taught them to teach themselves because I didn’t know who would oversee their learning next. The stakes feel so damn high.
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