Sunday, January 21, 2018

Mirrors and Windows, Opening Eyes, and a Long Way to Go Part 2

Transcript of conversation from a class on Thursday

(Having just finished reading Trombone Shorty


Me: Now, this picture of Trombone Shorty and Bo Diddly is in black and white, so it might look like this story took place a long time ago, but it didn't!  Trombone Shorty is actually a young

man.

Student A: He's still alive? 

Me: Oh, definitely! He is still alive. He is only 30 years old.  Just a few years ago he played at the White House for President Obama. 

(turned the page)

Me: Here is what he looks like today.

Student B: (gasps) He...he looks like me!

Me: You think he does? 

Student B: Yeah! He's brown and I'm brown! (points to his own arm)

Me: You are right! And you know what, Trombone Shorty travels all over the world playing his music.

Student B: Yeah! (continues smiling)

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

Mirrors and Windows, Opening Eyes, and a Long Way to Go

I am always acutely aware of the fact that I have an important role in shaping the way the young people in my district see the world.  I am constantly reminded of the need for diverse books. Books are mirrors and windows.  We see the world, but we also see ourselves. 

Recently, Junot Diaz was talking about his new book, his first children's book, and it spoke to this idea of books as windows and mirrors. This idea of writing about heritage and family, of seeing diverse people shown in books and talking about the wider experiences of the world.  

How powerful it is to see someone in a book who looks just like you and has the same experiences or the same hopes or a great life filled with possibility. 

The thing about both windows and mirrors is that we can see others in them too. 

I recently read The Last Stop on Market Street, in which a little boy rides with his grandmother on the bus to serve in a soup kitchen.  My students loved the story and the illustrations.  One drawing shows the poepl on the bus.  


"I'm the guy with the tattoos!"
"Why does that guy have a stick?"
"Look at the dog!"
"Why does that guy have tattoos!"
"Look, the tattoo guy is on his phone!"
"That guy has sunglasses!"
"I think that man is blind!"

On and on, students made observations about the people in the book. This that were new (including the blind man) or familiar (going somewhere with a grandparent), and many expressed surprise at things that were familiar to them but not typically in books, namely the tattoos on the man.  Every class noticed the tattoos.  When asked, every class knew people who had tattoos.  Their surprise, then, was not that he had tattoos, but that the book included a man with tattoos. And that man wasn't threatening or scary. He was on his phone. "I'll bet he is playing Minecraft!" Indeed. 

Later, the boy and his grandmother arrive at the soup kitchen to serve.  I talked with the kids about what a soup kitchen is and why someone might go. They were curious and respectful. Then one girl proudly said, "I have gone to a soup kitchen before! And I go to the food pantry all the time too!"  She was proud to share her experience--no shame, no stigma--this was just like what was happening in the book.

It is moments like those that make me so proud of what I do and see the power in a book.  The power of opening a book and seeing a character who looks familiar. Or approachable.  A story that could easily be one's own life.  Worthy of being put in on a page. 

Today, I read Trombone Shorty, and we all marveled at the young boy's skill, persistence, and bravery.
"I would be too scared!" 
"How did he do that?" 
"Does he have his own hot air balloon?" 
"That's a once in a lifetime chance!"
"He did all of that with a broken trombone?"

They peered interestedly at the photo of Trombone Shorty and Bo Diddly. They asked and wondered and marveled.
Then I turned to the photo of him today, and most of the comments were about how grown up he was, how strong, even how handsome. 
"He has big muscles!?"
"He must work out!"
"He's still alive!" (The earlier black and white photos surely made him seem ancient.)
"Wow, he's young!"

And then, there it was: "He's in jail?"

The photo was just of Trombone Shorty, a young African American man in an undershirt and jeans, smiling for the camera.  Nothing about the photo in any way indicated that he was in jail. 

Unless it was his race. 
If all the media images you saw of young African American men involved their being in jail. Or in a gang and soon headed to jail. 

My heart broke when I heard it.  I smiled and said, "No, he's the leader of a band. He plays his music all over the world. He even played at the White House!" The child thought, then nodded, and that was that. 

But that isn't that.  We have so very far to go.  

And a big part of that responsibility rests on my shoulders.  I need to be sure that my students have the chance to see positive images of traditionally underrepresented or marginalized groups. I need to be sure that we have plenty of books to counter all of the racism coming out of Hollywood today.  

In a larger sense, it is also about, in my personal life, voting with my dollars to say that yes, I want to buy books with diverse character. And I want to pay to see movies with diverse casts. And I won't tolerate books, movies, and TV shows using tired tropes of young black men as criminals or any other stereotype. 

I think it is also just being conscious in a very deep sense to the ways the messages I send help shape foundational ideas.  

And it is easy for me to say that there is no way I can fight a tide of negative, biases, harmful messages kids see, hear, ingest, and absorb. But, really, I can. The primary source of pleasure reading material for students under the age of 17 is the school library.  And that means that the books they check out are helping to form foundational ideas or countering negative messages. 

And that is on me.