I sat through a class tonight titled “Classroom Management and Effective Discipline.” Before I start discussing what happened in the class, I must give a little context. It dawned on me that the title of the class includes the word discipline. Through personal and professional encounters outside of class, I’ve learned that discipline is one powerful tool used to build the school-to-prison pipeline. More specifically, the statistics show that there is a disproportionality between the number of reported incidents and the harshness of punishments between white and black students for the same offenses. These statistics are out there, and there are videos and testimonies that go along with the numbers.
Remembering all of these things, I turned to my recently-purchased textbook and the online learning space for the class. I glanced at the table of contents of the textbook, then searched the index the words “community,” “rapport,” “black,” “racism,” “discrimination,” “bias,” and “minority.” Nothing listed. I then went to the syllabus to look through the article titles and other texts listed on the agenda. I found no hints of recognizing the black experience there, either. I then read through the first two slide shows and still found nothing. I clicked through some of the articles and links uploaded to the online learning space and saw nothing that addressed this issue. There was a profound silence, a built-in exclusion of racial bias naming and training.
Keep in mind that this is a college course required for all future teachers at this university. I immediately messaged a friend of mine, who teaches in a majority black middle school, and asked for any reading materials that might supplement this white-centering material. She suggested Other People’s Children: Cultural Conflict in the Classroom by Lisa Delpit.
We got into class and I saw this towering white man getting things ready for the class as we filed in. He had a bald head and was dressed in shiny leather shoes, crisp slacks, and a dark shirt and tie. The epitome of white male professional excellence. But before I get any further, I must humanize this man. He explicitly stated that he cares about poor students, and his resume demonstrates a willingness to interact with minorities by going into their communities instead of ignoring them. He wants to reform education, just like me. He and I are incredibly similar in our privileges. I could easily be him someday.
I glanced around the class as we did introductions. Of the 25 undergraduate and graduate students in this class, only one was non-white (born in Venezuela, as I recall). These demographic statistics are all too common in the education classes I’ve taken at this school.
About the second hour into the class, the professor began his own introduction. This took the form of a lengthy monologue that described his many professional adventures and accomplishments. He began as a gifted math teacher. He has taught all over Pennsylvania, has been a principal and superintendent all over the state, and now teaches college classes while consulting for school districts. He sprinkled in his many artifacts of privilege: a beach house, season professional football tickets, and an obsession with golf. All told, he has held nine professional appointments and is one class away from his fourth post-secondary degree. Of course, he ended this 40-minute ego-boosting “testimony” by saying that he just wanted us to know that he has the experience necessary to teach this course.
One of these conquests caught my attention. He briefly mentioned an elementary school where he spent a brief time as a principal. He described it as a school that was 58% black and 98% below the poverty line. When he asked for questions at the end of his introduction, I saw an opportunity to introduce the concept of race and white supremacy into the classroom. As he answered the first student’s question, I took a moment to jot down my own question:
When you were a principal in the elementary school with a 58% black student population, what was the disproportionality between black and white students in discipline, special education, and (as a part of the special education program) the gifted program? What did you do to combat these disproportionalities?
I covered discipline earlier in this post, but I do want to address the trends in the special education system. There is a higher proportion of black students in special education programs with the exception of the gifted program, which has a lower proportion of black students to white students. These statistics show that black students are often identified as having “issues” that require they be removed from the general education setting and that black students are not often identified as being “smart” enough for the gifted program. (Note: I hope that one day people will be perplexed by the words “removed from the general education setting”).
Before I get to me asking the question, I need to explain the choice-point that was involved while formulating this question. The following is meant specifically for white people, including myself. I had a choice in centering the concept of race in the class. To center race in this setting would disrupt the normalcy the professor is accustomed to and could bring about some backlash. There is the potential for personal danger in bringing up race in white spaces. It is personally better for us white people to maintain the expected silence because it helps preserve the oppressive systems that guarantee our privilege. For this very reason, we must challenge white supremacy. As I sat there, I told myself that I don’t have a choice. As a white person, I must challenge these silences. Without confronting this man, I would be permitting these future teachers the luxury of unrecognized colorblindness. Having knowledge about white supremacy is not enough. Knowing how white supremacy functions within the systems of society is also not enough. We must confront it. And we must call it out.
Now, back to the story. With the question written down, I took several deep breaths and raised my hand when the professor asked for more questions. I read it off and looked up for the response. What followed was another extended monologue (my guess is at least twenty minutes) that can only be described as whitesplaining. I could go into the details, but he recognized at the end of the twenty minutes that he had yet to answer my questions. He ended up saying that he didn’t know, that he didn’t look at those statistics because he wasn’t required to and didn’t think of it. Furthermore, he said that he knew of the statistics I talked about, but he doesn’t think they applied in that school. He went as far as to question the interpretation of the statistics on discipline.
Perhaps the most troubling was his attempt to reframe discipline. He lamented on the negative connotation attributed to the word and instead told us to separate the behavior from the student, citing cognitive development. I immediately recoiled at this distinction, recalling the patronizing Christian mantra “love the sinner, hate the sin.” This distinction ignores context and racial bias for a simplified and streamlined disciplinary process. He went on to say that all behaviors should be treated (i.e. punished) the same. Instead of advocating for equity that factors in environment, bias, and the humanity of the student, this professor advocated for a “tough love” because “all humans can be trained” and “kids are all liars.” He called students “bastards” several times in class, sometimes remembering to add that he loves all of them. The name calling was all in good fun, though…right? Maybe, but it reinforces the dehumanization of students already prevalent in the course material.
Needless to say, this class is useless to my education. I do not want to learn how to control wild animals; I want to learn how to recognize the humanity in my students. I don’t want to learn how to cram students into a small, colorful, enclosed, padded box and hold the lid shut as best as I can. I want to learn how to give my students the freedom to be themselves without coercion and manipulation.
Which leads me to another choice-point: Do I stay in the class to continue disrupting the indoctrinating of 25 future (and current) teachers? Or do I leave for my own sake before the professor’s white fragility compels him to discipline me?
