Left: My students watch the cheerleaders on stage with some mix of wonder, awe, and probably a some version of "WTF America?"
I started a new 2-month subbing gig Monday and quickly realized that my advisory (aka homeroom) was socially split down the middle. African American students only talked to one another and the ESL students +2 white students only talked to one another. Without much thought, I said, “When everyone knows everyone else’s name, we’ll have a pizza party.”
A police officer shot and killed a man named Jamar Clark in north Minneapolis on Sunday. Protesters have been at the precinct headquarters since then, demanding a federal investigation and the naming of the officers involved. At this point both demands have been met, but things grew more heated today when the police decided to clear an area of the protest. Tonight I checked my work email to find a reminder that helicopters have been hovering in the neighborhoods of our students and many roads are blocked.
Thursday Beruit was bombed by ISIS. Friday night Paris was attacked by ISIS. Republican governors are saying bigoted, racist things about immigrants from Syria and Muslim immigrants in general.
Locally, a group of ESL students wants to transfer to our school because their school climate–in regards to relationships between immigrants (mostly Somali) and African American students–is less than stellar. At our school we have had a few, relatively isolated incidents between these two groups. Girls have had their headscarves pulled off and students have been mocked for praying. But for the most part, the groups ignore one another. Apparently the divide is much greater at this other high school.
If I was a better writer, I could find a way to beautifully, adequately explain how these these events are connected. Put simply, it feels like my students are under attack from outside and from within. They live and go to school side-by-side, and yet they don’t actually know one another.
Last spring I read a book called, The City and the City, by China Miéville. In it, two cities exist side-by-side and even interwoven together. Everyone knows the other exists and yet they never acknowledge the presence of one another. When I stand in the hallways of my school I feel this divide. As a teacher I can look in on these separate worlds, but it is rare student who crosses the divide.
I started a new 2-month subbing gig Monday and quickly realized that my advisory (aka homeroom) was socially split down the middle. African American students only talked to one another and the ESL students +2 white students only talked to one another. Without much thought, I said, “When everyone knows everyone else’s name, we’ll have a pizza party.”
A police officer shot and killed a man named Jamar Clark in north Minneapolis on Sunday. Protesters have been at the precinct headquarters since then, demanding a federal investigation and the naming of the officers involved. At this point both demands have been met, but things grew more heated today when the police decided to clear an area of the protest. Tonight I checked my work email to find a reminder that helicopters have been hovering in the neighborhoods of our students and many roads are blocked.
Thursday Beruit was bombed by ISIS. Friday night Paris was attacked by ISIS. Republican governors are saying bigoted, racist things about immigrants from Syria and Muslim immigrants in general.
Locally, a group of ESL students wants to transfer to our school because their school climate–in regards to relationships between immigrants (mostly Somali) and African American students–is less than stellar. At our school we have had a few, relatively isolated incidents between these two groups. Girls have had their headscarves pulled off and students have been mocked for praying. But for the most part, the groups ignore one another. Apparently the divide is much greater at this other high school.
If I was a better writer, I could find a way to beautifully, adequately explain how these these events are connected. Put simply, it feels like my students are under attack from outside and from within. They live and go to school side-by-side, and yet they don’t actually know one another.
Last spring I read a book called, The City and the City, by China Miéville. In it, two cities exist side-by-side and even interwoven together. Everyone knows the other exists and yet they never acknowledge the presence of one another. When I stand in the hallways of my school I feel this divide. As a teacher I can look in on these separate worlds, but it is rare student who crosses the divide.