There
is an image in your mind and it is likely a little bit different than mine but
it’s of the
child.
I ask you to picture it.
The
child that creates and is messy and passionate
The
child that changes things with their mere presence
Hold
fast to this child, hold onto mine or to yours or perhaps now a somewhat
congruent vision.
That
image in your mind of the child. Picture it. Create it with me, for just a
moment.
Now of
what adult would you say such things? How many grown men and women would you
seek their presence for the simple joy or to be moved by their exploration or immeasurable
brilliance?
When
does this occur this breaking of the wings that carried the child to make meaning
to feel to believe with such conviction in these things that if
We really
believed in them, these things like world peace and justice
If we
really valued these things if we fought for them with just an ounce of the
fervor
Or
brilliance of the child
Things
could be quite different in this world.
This
breaking of wings this squashing of imagination this loss of sincerity
Begins
I believe with the education
as our
system strives to provide clarity. Clarity and data and scores and right
answers that will help our economy rise
But
their wings are broken
Replaced
with something else, something that is not that the child at all
And so,
with your patience and open minds I’d like to tell you a story of my very own
Breaking
of wings and how I began this career as a teacher so rooted in the child
Yet I
broke their wings and how I became capable of doing such things
Like
rigor, bright signage, class points and deductions
These
things that were for adults and not for the child that had been silenced. My story.
The
first day of school. The first bell, the
first objective , the first encounter
Between
me and my students
The
students that would test shape change guide push and educate me
The
students that would rise and fall and disappear in into the depths of east
Baltimore nowhere near their potential let alone that image of the child you
hold in your mind. Picture it. Create it with me.
The
child that creates and is messy and passionate
The
child that changes things with their mere presence
Hold
fast to this child.
The first 8 hours in room 102
The
beginning hours of the career through which I’d dreamed I’d be
This
powerful agent of change
And I
felt powerless in front of the boy that loomed over me as if I was some
deranged
Person
who demanded that he participate in a class wide diagnostic so I could assess
and we would be partners in his progress
We both
dripped in sweat, the school was melting in this heat and anger and tension
Rooted
in power control authority and suppression of the child
At hour
3 this child stared me down and stated with authority
It’s as
hot as a wet ass stripper and he threw his pen on the floor and
He planted
something in me on day one I couldn’t ignore
a doubt
and a fear that this perhaps couldn’t be done
And in
this moment in hour three I began to break their wings by demanding that this
child
Who was
as hot as wet ass stripper
Embrace
the 80 question diagnostic, Sit down, be quiet, better get used to it
In hour
three the child slipped by me
Replaced
with such things as diagnostics and daily objectives were necessary for their
futures
For
their livelihood and successes
The
rest of child was pushed into the deep enclaves of my mind where it would
reside a dying light barely visible even to those that searched
The
child. Hold fast to it. Create it with me.
My
story. The doubt was so small at first but it grew from hour three, and
ultimately expanded as I became one of the adults that
Drew
forth and created not a space for the child
But one
of compliance mistrust and hatred
I
became a part of this and I’m not sure why
This work
had broken the wings of those that had entered holding fast to the vision of
the child but instead held were told to hold fast to a checklist of items
Like
Objective on the board, documentation, benchmarks, benchmarks, benchmarks
These
items on the checklist,
that no one could explain the validity of other
than the mere presence of the item on the list, the reasoning was buried
somewhere deeper than the child
But if
we could do at least this, if we could just do these things on the list…an
“education” at its finest?
Were we
validated in this? Did we find pride, comfort, joy fulfillment in this list?
Were we
creating, unafraid to be messy and passionate
Were we
changing anything with our mere presence
Or
perhaps was the essence of this place and our work and this checklist of
compliance
so far
removed from the child that we were wounded and wounding simultaneously every
day
A wounded
generation we are and we create in the name of education
And of
what adults would you not say such things? How many grown men and women would
you defend as true protectors of the child? For if education requires
compliance submission in some skewed sense
of
expectations or tradition, can the wings of a child ever be repaired? Or are we
all scared fearful and somewhat lifeless as a result of this education that was
intended to prepare
Prepare
us for stagnation
My story. Creation innovation and joy are not born from
this. These things are buried. With my joy buried with myself suppressed and
the unexplainable inability to speak up or to change it I asked myself almost
on a daily basis
Fight or flight?
Will you fight for the child it’s buried in your mind if
you haven’t forgotten it it hasn’t died yet.
Hold fast to it.
So
fight or flight?
Is it
really possible for a school or a system to provide for that child the things
that would free them
From
the suppression of this feel bad education in which compliance has replaced
everything
We once
valued about our children
Could
it be like schools in Harlem in which children have a voice
Could
we provide meaningful work that transcends the classroom and fosters our
children so they are not living in a vacuum of standards and tests
But
instead that one of the best things they will do is produce something of
excellence
One of
the best things they will do is solve world problems with their classmates
One of
the best things they will do is change their communities in Baltimore
Do we
have the ability to listen to the child to trust the child with these things
Or can
we only trust them to bubble in the test
Picture
the child. The child that creates and is messy and passionate
The
child that changes things with their mere presence
If we
don’t believe that it is possible to foster this to not suppress this to
celebrate the this child
If we
don’t believe that it is possible
If we
don’t believe in ourselves and our colleagues and humanity
Or if
we believe but stay silent, choosing flight
Then
why are we here
What
are we teaching
And who
do we want our children to become
I’m
asking you to picture the child. The child that creates and is messy and
passionate
The
child that changes things with their mere presence
Hold
fast to it. Create this with me.
