It is my first year of teaching. I am standing in my classroom. The walls are kind of a hospital blue. There are four small windows up high near the ceiling to my right. There is a blackboard behind me. The cinder block wall to my left is that blue. It is dingy and seems dark in my room. In front of me are about 38 desks…maybe more. The room is crammed with desks. In those desks are about 38 black kids. And there are more standing around the back of the room. Because I am young and naive. Because the counselors keep adding kids to my classes and I keep saying yes. I found out later that I had the right to say no. But, I am 28 years old. I am 5’3” and probably about 110 pounds. I am this little white lady. Although I am 28, I look a lot younger. And I feel young at this moment. But I also feel confident. Looking back I have no idea why I would feel confident. I am standing there thinking, “yeah, I can teach these kids Spanish, bring it on!” I had no idea what I was in for.
I start with attendance and trying to call kids’ names- Shaqueanta, Qaimea. Seriously, I butchered more names that first day than in my whole 21 years of teaching. I was laughed at. I heard things said I could not comprehend. I felt 100% out of place and out of my comfort zone. But for some reason, I just pushed on.
I showed up every day. I learned their names. I tried to teach them Spanish, but I realized I needed to teach a bunch of other things first- when it is ok to get up out of your seat, how to raise your hand and ask permission to use the bathroom, how to sharpen a pencil. All kinds of small classroom procedures. And I got to know them. I got to like them. I got to hear their stories and figure them out. One kid, Anthony, came to my room during lunch one day, sat down near my desk and told me I needed to learn some new words. He took it upon himself to teach me some phrases, black talk. He taught me some very valuable words so I was able to understand what the kids around me were saying.
The other day some guys went to Starbucks and asked to use the restroom. They were told to leave. They were black. You can read the story if you want: https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/business/wp/2018/04/16/two-black-men-were-arrested-at-starbucks-ceo-now-calling-for-unconscious-bias-training/?utm_term=.18fe20fb735e
Here’s what got me thinking. Education. Before I taught in Compton, before I was that young white lady trying to teach black kids, I was a white lady. I had no real deep experience with the black community. I had no idea and I had a bias. But, as I got to know those kids and even my co-workers, that black bias disappeared. I forgot they were black. I forgot I was white. When I heard this story about these two men I wondered about the people who asked them to leave. I wondered if they were frightened because they didn’t know any better. The CEO is calling for unconscious bias training. Whatever that is. But, I am not sure you can do that. I do not know. I was unaware of my own bias.
Here is what I got out of Compton though- a kid wrote me a letter. In this letter, he said he had never met a white person before. And that he had been told his whole life that white people were bad and they only wanted to hurt black people. And in this letter, he said he knows that to be a lie because I was the first white person he met and he knew I only wanted to help him be a better person. His bias changed because of a positive experience. So, in this business of unconscious bias training, are they going to give those people an experience? I walked away with an experience. I had empathy and hope and love for those kids I taught. That student of mine, he had an experience that changed his bias. I got to understand the nuances of the culture that previously I had passed judgment on. A kid got to internalize that some white people are OK. Is it possible to train that? Or do we need to have more positive experiences with more people of colors and races to really stop the racism? And if so, how?
Educational Rant 
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