Thread by @triciaebarvia

Reading a few conversations online recently, I've been thinking a lot about the urgent need for us as Ts to do some hard, internal work of unpacking the identities we bring to the classroom. (Thread, a long one 👇🏾) /1

Teaching is an intensely human activity. We know that the best teachers are those who know that teaching—and Ss—cannot be standardized. We teach who we are. This is what can make our practice so powerful—even transformative—but also dangerous. /2

We bring all of our identities—and the experiences that informed them—into our teaching. So we have to interrogate the ways in which these experiences have shaped our practices and relationships with kids. /3

These include our credentials, professional learning, and all our years in the classroom—we draw upon these experiences when we make decisions. We draw upon our years of kid-watching and theory-making. /4

But I would argue that it's often our personal identities and experiences that have the most profound effects on our teaching, and that which most often—and most dangerously—go unexamined. /5

Some quick examples.

Ts who defend the "canon" often argue that there are certain "literary" works that are rich and rigorous that all kids should have to be "educated," that they're missing out on something critical w/out [fill in the blank]. /6

But the thing is, most Ts, esp. HS English Ts, were educated in a system and in a "canon" of texts that included some voices but excluded many more others. To call into question the validity of the "canon" means that we have to acknowledge our complicity in this exclusion. /7

I think we need to recognize that when we defend the "canon," we might also be defending our own perceived expertise. It becomes personal.

I speak from my own experience. As an AsAm woman who has always felt the pressure to "fit in" and "prove" myself in many spaces... /8

...I saw my expertise in the "canon" as evidence of my intellect (and perhaps as a path to White adjacency). Ironically, when my Ss were reading Achebe's Things Fall Apart, we discussed how schools were often used as one of the most effective tools of colonizers. /9

What I didn't recognize was my own complicity in such a system. In the words of anti-apartheid leader Steve Biko, "the most potent weapon of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed." This is why we must #DisruptTexts /10

Another example of the way my identities have affected my teaching is through my privilege.

I grew up and live in an affluent, predominantly White, somewhat progressive suburb. I teach & work in two of the most "high-performing" districts in the state. /11

At first glance, this seems like a great place to live: lots of public parks, low violent crime, access to multiple grocery stores and shops. But one reason for this is because of the racial segregation—legal & de facto—that have shaped many metropolitan areas. /12

I have to acknowledge that. I can say I live here because I want what's best for my kids, because my parents live close by and family is important. This is all true—but it is ALSO true that I'm complicit in an ongoing system of structural racism. /13

This structural racism has limited the diversity around me & perhaps my ability to empathize w/others. When I reflect on my own racial literacy in recent years, it's been my relationships w/other POCs that have transformed my understanding of racism, esp. anti-Black racism. /14

Why does this matter in my teaching? Because if I don't fully comprehend what impedes my own ability to understand racism as it exists in my own life, how can I teach Ss about racism w/the complexity and knowledge required? /15

How can I teach To Kill a Mockingbird? Huck Finn? Gatsby? Or really—ANY American literature? How can I teach students about holidays like "Thanksgiving" or figures like MLK, Jr. responsibly? How can I offer students #ownvoices narratives in my classroom library? /16

It's the privilege that my personal experiences afford me that also partially explains my shock at recent events: the racial slurs hurled at POC on buses, police called on Black Americans going to the pool, "family detention centers" erected to imprison refugees. /17

And although I am privileged (or perhaps because I am) and went to excellent schools, never in my schooling were the full atrocities of racism ever really explained. /18

This lack of knowledge limits my ability to teach fully and truthfully. Instead, I might combat racism w/platitudes like "be kind" or simply encourage kids to be "colorblind," which only further erases the experiences of people of color. /19

Where does this leave me? Overwhelmed, angry, impatient, and sometimes, resigned. But that's when I'll try to listen & read, fill in gaps I'm still unpacking; seek others who will challenge me to grow; and speak up, push back when I see practices that can be damaging to kids. /21

Educating ourselves—asking hard, uncomfortable questions that we might not like the answers to—is a form of activism. It's a first step, at least. Because something's got to change. /22

Adding my friend @SchleiderJustin's related thoughts here, too, from the point of view of another teacher and parent who is doing the work. slowchatpe.wordpress.com/2016/02/28/thi…