During my first two years as a teacher, I found myself in many situations that left me feeling depressed, overwhelmed, and completely exhausted. For example, one day I was sitting in my classroom in a panic, trying to figure out how to create graphic organizers for my students’ first essays. When an idea finally came to me and I was about to write down my thoughts, a student barged in and refused to leave. I told them to leave the classroom and come back to the classroom, but they raised their voices and declared, “I hate you.”
Another incident I remember was when students came into my class when I wasn’t teaching. They came in and told me how this teacher was “the worst” and how mean he was to them. Later they saw a message from the same teacher whose class they had just left that said “______ is on his way to your class.”
The common thread in these situations was that all of the students who came to me were people of color — the student body at this school was roughly 60% Latino, 20% Pacific Islander, and 20% Black — and the teachers they were trying to avoid were all white.
During my first year back from “Zoom Year,” a pattern became clear to me: Students of color did not feel safe with white teachers. All of these teachers, and I mean all of them, seemed focused on shifting the responsibility of supporting students to the teachers they felt safe with, rather than figuring out how to be the safe spaces students needed. This was harmful not only to my students, but to me as well.
White teachers have long avoided the task of loving students of color, but when that task falls disproportionately to teachers of color, They are more likely to abandon educationThis creates a less diverse work environment, making it more difficult for students to accurately identify with themselves.
People like me have a right to a safe school so that I can stay in this profession and do the best I can for my students, and I want white teachers to do that so that teachers of color can succeed in this profession.
Ask for consent
When that teacher messaged me about a student, I would have been happy if she had waited until I responded so I could ask, “Why?” Consentthere was a passionate agreement between the two of us regarding this student coming into my space. I wish there had been transparency on the part of the teacher.
In my classroom, I treat students as people first, not obstacles to classroom management. When I know I’m wrong, I apologize clearly and honestly. What if instead I was given the opportunity to share my approach to student relationships with that teacher and allow them to work on their practice? What if the teacher, the student in question, and I sat down together to have a consensual discussion with the student to better understand their needs? Would this student have felt uneasy because of what the teacher did or said in the classroom that day? I would have felt that my autonomy and humanity were respected because I could advocate for myself as well as for my students.
This requires a school culture rooted in these consensual conversations, from quick hallway conversations to consenting to uncover and address the most egregious harms. Consent needs to be introduced and explored beyond general health conversations and integrated into all aspects of social interactions between professionals.
Build empathy
In education, none of us can do it right all the time. Even though we share the same identity as students, each of us will disappoint many students in our careers as educators. We will also disappoint each other, but we always work to be openly human. And that’s okay. What matters most is how much empathy we can show when we are faced with the impact of our actions.
I want white teachers to treat me like a human being and remember that I am just as tired, if not more so, than they are. I want white teachers to know that I, too, am struggling to figure out how to help the students who need it most.
I remember one student who saw a neighbor get shot and killed over winter break, and my heart ached for that student as he found the transition back to school incredibly difficult. Externalizing behavior His behavior was disruptive and he needed the help of multiple adults to support him. I often didn’t know how to help, but his white teachers allowed him to leave the classroom and come to me, as if I had more answers than they did. When I talked to him, all I did was remind him that he had been through a lot.
In all the situations where white teachers have pushed work onto me, the most painful thing was that I genuinely felt they had no empathy for me at all. I wondered if they had ever considered what it must be like for me, a first-year teacher of color, to take on so much while I was still figuring this out and feeling deeply for my students who are experiencing the same trauma I experienced when I was their age.
This includes regularly Change your perspective What is happening to help us understand each other? In building this school culture, I ask myself the following questions:
- What factors did I fail to consider when I inflicted this harm?
- What has this person been through that I can’t understand because of my identity?
- What does this experience tell me about who I am now?
This too requires a culture of empathy and embracing humanity.
Show Humility
Finally, I want to apologize to white teachers, many of whom are so focused on portraying themselves as “nice” in an attempt to assert their power that they forget our humanity. Overcompensating for power Acting polite places too much emphasis on self-image rather than the impact of our actions, and I believe this false energy makes us less human because we don’t have the presence or empathy to acknowledge the impact of our mistakes.
I want white teachers to own up to this. I want them to acknowledge the enormity of their power, not deny it. I want them to acknowledge that their failure to confront this power and exercise it in an empathetic way has resulted in enormous harm. And I want them to apologize for all the harm they have caused. Specifically, I want their apology to:
“I was a racist. I pushed these students onto you because I didn’t know, and I still don’t know, how to support them. I didn’t consider how painful this must be for you. I am ready to work to earn back their trust and yours. What can I do?”
I believe this requires a top-down culture where managers first model this level of humility in staff meetings and one-on-one interactions — leadership where humility is modeled and expected of all staff.
Building the future for teachers of color
How much can I really do? I think about this every day, because if I care about students of color, I must be willing to encourage the upliftment of all who interact with them, including my white colleagues. Knowing this, I want to offer what has worked for white teachers, but without feeling small or dehumanized.
I believe that white teachers meet regularly in affinity spaces. Racial IdentityI have successfully created an independent classroom and have gone outside with one student to do real Restorative conversation When harm is done, I have seen white teachers recognize their own racial power and place themselves between security guards and students when confrontations escalate.
Other white teachers noticed the disproportionate responsibility placed on me and the power they held compared to me, and they used that power to advocate for me with administration and peers, which made me feel validated and allowed me to save my energy for my students instead of defending myself from my peers.
In all of these situations, my white colleagues did not pretend to have less power than they possessed. In fact, they recognized that power and used it to ensure that the work of loving and supporting students as people was distributed as fairly as possible.
Because of these positive experiences, I know that with consent, humility, and empathy, teachers can build relationships rooted in love and care for one another. Students of color know that their teachers are not loved. They can see it in their fatigue, frustration, and impatience, just as we can see the pain of their hard days.
Imagine a world where teachers of color feel safe coming to work so they can give their best to their students, and where students can envision a future where they, too, are loved and respected. That future is possible when teachers truly care and support one another.
