What World Are We Educating for?
If a school doesn’t reduce harm for its teachers or its students, what good is it?
I have had the rare and beautiful experience of being in the right place, at the right time, with the right people to create a true community. to be sure, nothing was perfect, but everyone cared for each other. It feels almost like magic, like destiny, like what we dream of when we dream of family. It is consuming and you have to remind yourself to take care of yourself, but things you know you couldn’t do on your own begin to happen. There is a generative static electricity in the air. The tide lifts all boats and there’s enough to go around even on days where some people don’t catch anything. If you’re lucky or wise, you take time once in a while to bask in the glow of it, because it’s rarely sustainable.
It seems impossible that i’ve found true community so many times in the last ten years, but New Orleans has always been fertile ground for community. If you don’t leave for long enough you almost forget it’s not like this everywhere. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t Disneyland. There is inequity here so sharp it’ll snatch your breath (unless you live it every day, then you just develop asthma and keep it pushing). New Orleans’ magic exists despite and because of the systemic and structural damage and negligence as far as the eye can see. As Dave Cash once said, New Orleans exists because it is so inherently black, and blackness never gives up the fight.
To spend every day living and learning next to this city’s children and its educators has been the privilege of a lifetime and I have tried to never take it for granted (Stevie Rogers taught me). Every lesson, discussion, parent-teacher conference, parade, field trip, celebration, homecoming tailgate, graduation, wedding, and baby shower was a blessing. I am in awe of my elders and mentors who teach by leading and lead by teaching (rest in peace to Walter Harris Jr.). I am in awe of the parents I speak to who manage to keep all the plates spinning and still advocate for their children. Most of all, I am in awe of our children. Right now, I can’t think about their brilliance, joy, and thoughtfulness without tearing up. Thank you all for making me the person I am. Grateful doesn’t begin to cover it.
Still, watching people you love get crushed by a system you are a part of is painful. Especially when the same system is crushing you. I sought out the least harmful spaces I could find and tried to be a part of change as often as I could. I tried to listen to my community and move in unison with other freedom dreamers as often as I could. I tried to intervene in dangerous situations and hold people accountable as often as I could. It was nowhere near often enough.
Then, a virus came and gave us a good hard look at ourselves and our structures plus the time to reflect on them, if we had the space. I have fought hard to have the resources and space to breathe for once, and getting the virus early in March changed my perspective. Still, a true community isn’t something you leave suddenly or all at once. I still had things to tend to.
Unfortunately, this system crushes all of us who don’t fit its able and respectable mold. Since I turned thirty, I have worked hard to care for myself the way I care for others. If I have to choose between my health and anything else, I will choose me unapologetically. This is what I want for our children: the ability to live a healthy life in line with their values.
The organizer and visionary, Tourmaline, says, “Freedom dreams are born when we face harsh conditions not with despair, but with the deep knowledge that these conditions will change — that a world filled with softness and beauty and care is not only possible, but inevitable.” She continues, “I want you to know that your freedom dreams can be immediate,” and when I read those words, I knew I couldn’t keep talking about liberation having never experienced it.
This is not how I imagined my time as a “New Orleans educator” would end, but there is no imagining something like now. There is only accepting change.
I will always be an educator and New Orleans will always be home. I am forever grateful for the chance to have been a cougar, a ram, and a mustang.
I know that we can’t truly understand things unless we live them, breathe them, feel them between our palms, against our skin. I don’t want to dream about it anymore. I want to understand what we could become by trying it for myself.
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