Listening While White: How One Teacher Started to Hear Her Black Students
And what it can teach all of us about communicating across social divides.
Mistakes are forgiveable. But it’s on me to do better next time.
A gentle knock on my classroom door at the end of the first ‘smoke day’ in California. My mother-in-law’s house is burning in Paradise. The kids cooped up all day with glue and scissors and cardboard, the smell of poster paint and hot child breath still lingering in the room. I’m beyond done for the day.
The mother of one of the few black students in my science class wants to talk to me. Is now a convenient time? I hesitate. I know that letting stuff fester is rarely good so I say yes.
Her daughter, Keisha, sits reluctantly. She won’t look at me. Mrs. D asks about an assignment her daughter has not understood. I try to explain about how to locate the epicenter of an earthquake, and it’s tricky as heck. No one understands. I try again.
The situation escalates. Mrs. D questions her daughter sharply, Keisha retreats further and says nothing, not looking at either of us. I can’t remember exactly what happens next, just that Mrs. D storms out of the classroom and heads straight for the principal’s office to complain about me. I’m upset, frustrated and angry, stunned at how it spun out so fast.
What happened? How do I help students who are struggling with concepts while dealing with parents who do not want their child called out, given extra help or worse, referred for special education testing? I became afraid of interacting with Keisha at all, afraid of being labeled racist.
This is not the first time I have had similar fears when dealing with Black students in a blindingly white student population, nor is it the first time that parents of those students have had issues with me, I am sad to say.
Here‘s what I’d do differently now:
1. Schedule a meeting for later
Agreeing to meet right then was a mistake. I was too stressed and did not have time to gather Keisha’s work nor chat with her ahead of time. That often diffuses problems. Keisha was the main point of the meeting. She was so stressed in this format that there was little hope that either her mom or me would have been able to help her learning. In general, have highly charged conversations by mutual agreement in a comfortable, calm setting when you can give your full attention.
2. Imagine things from Mrs. D’s perspective
Instead of taking a moment to imagine where Mrs.D was coming from, instead of taking a moment to chat in a friendly way, I went straight in with “What can I do for you?”
3. Ask open-ended questions
If I had been calmer and more self-confident and a bit less fried, I could have asked open-ended questions to invite Mrs. D to share her concerns and feelings. Openers like “So, tell me what’s going on… ”
4. Resist the urge to interrupt and defend myself
Unless it gets really abusive or dangerous — then I suggest they take it to the principal and we continue at a later date.
5. Reflect back what I heard
and if there was a lot of emotion “I wonder if you might be feeling ….? And name the feeling you are picking up, asking if that’s accurate. Other comments as appropriate could be “Wow, that sounds really frustrating/upsetting. Is that how you are feeling?” and “I can really understand you’d feel that way.” which doesn’t imply agreement, but does convey empathy.
6. Invite the parent to say more
When she finishes, say ‘hmm. Tell me more.” Because Mrs.D had a hell of a story to tell. I wish I had allowed myself to just be curious.
7. Work together to find a solution
After Mrs. D had said what she needed to say, we could have discussed how to help Keisha — the real point of this meeting, and the one who was most damaged by this conflict.
8. Talk with the student directly
Usually, I end a parent/student conference talking directly to the child — what are some strategies you might try? And restating my confidence in them and that we are all here because we all really care about them. That part went right out the window this time. Obviously.
So what actually happened in the end?
The lucky part of the story is that Mrs. D and I had a mutual friend who brokered a peace between us. Otherwise, we’d both be stuck in the stereotypes — me ‘stuck-up white bitch’, she as ‘angry black woman’.
Sami sat her in the comfy chair and waited quietly for her to stop crying and calm down at recess the next day. “Want to tell me what’s going on?” was her only question.
Mrs. D told Sami that she was scared that she had ruined her reputation at the school forever by clashing with a respected teacher, that she was afraid her daughters were way behind and she didn’t know what to do to help them. That I had not heard her and she didn’t know how to communicate with me calmly. In fact the whole experience of her daughter and her in this white, wealthy school was pretty hellish. She felt racism at every turn.
Sami used deep listening strategies that underpin Mark Goulston’s work: “Nonviolent Communication” by Marshall B. Rosenberg. She’s a wonderful special educator, experienced, calm, warm and embodies curious kindness. And she’s my friend. Honored.
Then when Mrs. D was done and calmer, Sami shared some perspectives with her, now she was ready to listen and mirror the favor. Including sharing who I was, where I was coming from.
The cultural disconnect was extreme for Mrs. D and Keisha, and the rules of the white culture were not obvious: “Teacher’s doors are always open — drop by any time…” was the welcome she was given. In fact ‘dropping by anytime’ is the opposite of the school culture. That was her most obvious trip-up but there are so many others to trip over too — I thought I’d escaped all that by moving from uptight England to America, but no.
Sami told me Mrs.D. was wanting to back me up with her daughter and hold Keisha accountable. That was a total surprise — the opposite of what I had picked up — no, she was not accusing me of picking on her child, she was not trying to get her special treatment or an ‘excused’ for the assignment. So, basically we were on the same page all along. Sigh.
Hearing how upset she was, broke through my own hurt and frustration. A frustration and discomfort that simmered with Keisha in class too, making it hard for her to learn. I am so, so sorry for hurting you both, Mrs.D and Keisha.
The outcome — no big Come to Jesus let’s all hug it out — Mrs. D and me agree about that bs. Instead, we started by saying hello to each other passing in the corridor. Which allowed me to gently check in with Keisha before things reached a crisis, breaking tasks down, making quiet modifications to assignments. Being you know, friendly. Not creepy friendly, just how are you doing friendly. And gradually, the hellos became warm smiles. Never big chats, but well, thank you Sami, and thank you Mrs. D for forgiving me.
Curious friendliness — and being a bit more self-aware and confident ourselves — maybe those are ways to start to make friends and build bridges across political and cultural divides, one person, one unique personality at a time.
Names, situation specifics have been fictionalized to protect privacy.
Sue Boudreau M.Ed. is a Teacher of the Year for one of the top performing districts in California, develops science curriculum kids love, is a writer and bicycler. She runs the Takeactionscience blog.
