Unearth the Joy
A way forward
What am I feeling as I sit here listening: “Open records request…Critical Race Theory…all your lesson plans and materials…” What am I feeling?
As our associate principal elaborates, I watch the eyes of my team members for clues. Perhaps I can see my emotion reflected there. But we’re all just a bit numb.
Little known before 2021, Critical Race Theory (CRT) has been omnipresent in news headlines and social media posts over the past several months. According to the current Wisconsin Senate Bill 411, which calls CRT into question, it “centers on the idea that racism is systemic-that racial injustice is woven into the fabric of many American systems and institutions, thereby causing disparities and perpetuating the oppression of people of color.” Some feel this means schools are “teaching material that attempts to redress the injustice of racism and sexism by employing racism and sexism.”
Like most educators, by this time I’ve heard about all the CRT challenges at school board meetings across the country and teachers everywhere trying to understand what CRT actually is and wondering why some are so convinced we are teaching it. I’ve also heard the accusations of shaming and indoctrination. But they’ve been somewhere else. Some other state. Some other school.
Today it’s our school. Our curriculum. Us.
What am I feeling?
Fear (‘fir) n. an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat*. As in, The fear that some parents don’t trust us is hard to bear.
Our associate principal walks us through the details of the request: All lesson plans and materials related to “social justice” and “equity.” The request also lists a specific colleague’s name, and I secretly wish it were mine–partially to take the burden of accusation off her shoulders (She is understandably upset) and partially because the fear is dissipating, and I can feel a wave of bring-it-on rising within me.
Anger (ˈaNGɡər) n. A strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility*. As in, My anger grows at the audacity for anyone to think we teachers would harm our students.
But of all the challenges out there, a little piece of paper asking us to show what we’re teaching–to “expose” our dedication to equity and social justice, to show we value the voices of all our students–this is an easy one.
As our team processes and vents, cries and consoles, we find a collective strength, backed by our thoughtfully created curriculum. We see this open records request for what it is: an opportunity.
For decades our team has taught a social justice research unit in the fall where students identify a social issue and propose a solution to it. Students learn to avoid emotional arguments and stick to debatable, evidence-based topics. They investigate their research materials before naming them as valid sources of information. I can’t think of two skills more important than these to come from a research unit.
Last spring, when our school taught students in person and online simultaneously, our team recreated the entire semester’s curriculum. During our final unit, students learned how to lead courageous conversations stemming from the equity issues of race, disability, and economic status in the novels they had chosen to read. As their teachers, we created safe spaces for all students to express their opinions, to ask questions, to move past the fear of saying something wrong.
“I appreciated the level of respect. Even when I disagreed with classmates, I never felt judged or excluded.”
As one student remarked, “It’s important that we talk about these topics, even in a classroom setting so we can all learn and grow in a safe environment for all.” Over 90% of students felt they learned something valuable, became better at discussing social issues, and thought we should continue to have discussions like this in school. Another student commented, “I appreciated the level of respect. Even when I disagreed with classmates, I never felt judged or excluded.”
Looking back, we marvel at how our students navigated their work with respect and grace for one another. They were doing difficult things during a difficult year; we were proud of them, and they were proud of themselves.
Joy (joi) n. A time when one’s efforts bridge the gap between one’s ideals for work and the reality of one’s job**. As in, The joy I feel working with my students and colleagues motivates me to share our experiences.
How many times have teachers wished that those outside our classrooms would express more curiosity about what happens inside our classrooms? That they realize there is more to school than standardized test scores?
The recent wave of concerns regarding CRT is certainly not the first time teachers and school districts have been called into question, criticized, even vilified. Over my 24 years in the profession, however, I’ve seen how so much of it stems from misunderstanding and fear.
This is our opportunity to assuage those fears and to help all parents and guardians understand: We are on the same side. We aren’t in this profession to advance an agenda. We aren’t even in it for a particular curriculum. We’re here for your children. All of them.
Hope (ˈhōp) v. to expect with confidence: Trust*. As in, I hope that while we teachers need time to process the fear and anger we might feel when someone challenges the integrity of what we do, the joy of what we do will help us build bridges with our communities. Our students need that.
*Definition from Oxford Languages.
**Definition derived from my reading of The End of Burnout: Why work drains us and how to build better lives. In this article, Jonathan Malesic describes burnout as “the experience of being chronically stretched across a gap between your ideals for work and the reality of your job. When that gap grows, you find it harder and harder to hold onto both ideal and reality. You lose elasticity until, at some point, you break.” As we discussed the topic of joy during one of our What We Can Become classes, I thought, hmmm…it must be the joy in what we do that helps us bridge that gap, that helps us from burning out, that helps us to continue supporting our students.
