It’s standardized test time at work, and this means that
school has been more stressful and shaming than usual. On Friday, our rooms
were inspected and everyone who didn’t have every single thing off the walls, bookshelves
covered, and students completely silent was subject to shaming announcements
over the intercom and nasty write-ups.
When I opened my write-up and read it, something
surprisingly joyful bubbled up in me. I don’t know if it was the awesomeness of
my date the night before or the kind colleague who offered to stay after work
and help me finish my room. Whatever it was, it added up to this bright phrase
shining out of my heart: “Go fuck yourself.”
But it wasn’t the sort of “Go fuck yourself” that comes from
anger or makes you want to fight. It was almost made out of love. In that
moment, I knew that everything I’d given and everything I’d accomplished so far
vastly outweighed any snotty letter or post-test chattiness. Even a month ago,
I’d’ve been devastated by that day, and I’m sure I’ll be devastated by many
more, but for now, what a surge of self-love.
One accomplishment that got me to this proud point was a
fabulous student I’ll call R. He transferred to our school a few months ago and
brought so much happiness to our often-snipey classroom. While I’m hesitant to
categorize a third grader like this, the kid is clearly as gay as the day is
long. He’s also one of the most centered and confident people I’ve ever met. He
gleefully practices dance routines and cartwheels with the girls while the rest
of the boys are trying to sneak in forbidden games of football.
He’s thoughtful and kind, participates in class, and has the
neatest handwriting you’ve ever seen. Yet his behavior grades from his old school
were low, as was his reading level. Working with R. really helped me to
understand that it’s not just teaching skills that I have to offer, that what
really can help a child to thrive is welcome and approval in the midst of a
narrow-minded community that often offers none. That’s something I can do even
on my worst day.
We do live in a very homophobic area, (and I’m pretty sure
every school is a homophobic area) so he often tells me about the boys calling
him names. The other day when we were lined up for lunch, he sadly told me that
another student had called him gay. I had to choose my words carefully so as
not to ruffle any school or parent feathers. I told him that anyone who makes
fun of an entire category of people is a prejudiced knucklehead, that he’d meet
gay people in his life and they might be good or bad, that being gay wouldn’t
have anything to do with it.
I made him repeat all that back to me so I could be sure
he’d heard it. He seemed satisfied with my explanation and went in to lunch.
the next day, he brought me this very blingy ships-wheel ring that I
immediately decided was my moral compass.
R’s behavior scores at his old school made me think of my
own assessments and self-assessments, how someone or something good can be kept
from thriving just by being in a hostile place. It reassures me that no matter
where I am next school year, I will be able to learn and grow as a teacher and
as a person, but the more barriers I remove and the kinder I am to myself, the
better I will be able to blossom and be present for the R’s of the world, and I
guess for the less-fabulous students too.
