Thursday, August 17, 2006

The Sincerity of Sensitivity - One White Woman's Perspective

Teachers are getting ready for classes to begin soon, and as usual, we are required to spend some time in professional development. Recently, a speaker was booked to speak to our faculty about sensitivity. As is so often the case, the presenter badly needed a public speaking course. As is so often the case, she had a Power Point to present and didn't know how to work it (she announced proudly several times during the workshop that she had learned Power Point just for this occasion.) As is so often the case, she wasn't used to being challenged in her assumptions -- even though she told us at the beginning that we must be honest about what we really thought.

When you see a workshop topic like "sensitivity," race might be the first thing to come to mind. These days, religion would come up, too. Certainly gender. But most intelligent people realize there are lots of other issues about which we can be ignorant, insensitive, and perhaps overly sensitive, too. Teachers, more than most, are aware of all the different ways people can be offended, because we deal with so many people during our day; and especially because, at least in most public schools, we do come into contact with a variety of races, religions, and cultures. I once had a black child (in elementary school) apologize for calling me white. I explained that it really wasn't an insult, just a fact.

Have you ever talked "honestly" about race? I have. With one or two colleagues at a time (of various races), people I know well, and with whom I have built some trust. Even then, there have been misunderstandings between us. There is so much tension about this subject, for all colors of people, that even when I have walked away from a meaningful, satisfying, congenial conversation, I have sometimes had second thoughts and wondered if I gave a false impression, if the person I was talking to was just being polite, or humoring me.

So we're expected to talk "honestly," in a large group? Sure. I'm game.

At first, I thought it was going to go reasonably well. We were given a topic, asked to discuss at our table, then share. It seemed like an easy topic. Respect.

But as our table members talked, I remembered an incident with a parent last year. This father had asked for the meeting because he felt I had been rude to his son in class. The first words out of his mouth were, "Do you respect me?" I was taken aback by this, because to me, to respect someone means that you have seen them live and react in life, and you believe they have lived admirably. I respect people of integrity, kind people, people who take responsibility for their actions, and people who are honest. I didn't even know this guy. At some point I realized he must mean did I respect his right to be there, or his right to speak, or perhaps he was just asking if I intended to treat him with courtesy. But I felt that to give a "yes" or "no" answer would be to impair my own integrity. So I explained that I would have to know him better to answer that question. I think he probably took my answer as a form of, yes, disrespect. But I couldn't, in good conscience, answer any other way.

I told my table members about this incident, as an illustration of my suspicion that when we talk about "respect," we need to define our terms. That was my entire point: let's be sure we are talking about the same thing. When you say "respect," you may mean "courtesy." When I say "respect," I mean a kind of esteem that you earn. If we can understand that, we can understand one another better. Everyone at my table completely understood this. It just seemed so obvious.

My unfortunate colleague was chosen to share this insight with the room. The presenter seemed skeptical, but at least one other teacher openly agreed, using the example of the student who lies to you. You would no longer respect such a student; you would no longer esteem him or her. The presenter said this was wrong. Just flat said, "No, everyone deserves respect." I tried to explain better, since it was my point: I said, "For instance, I had a really difficult student last year. Some of you will know who I'm talking about." Many people in the room began laughing; some said, "Oh, yes, I know." Now, this was not just any disruptive student. He was the most amazingly bizarrely behaved student I have ever encountered. He was completely self-centered, and routinely treated everyone in the class horribly. When students walked in the first day, they would say, "Oh no!" when they saw him. This wasn't someone whom no one liked because they were nerdy. He was a football player, and some people actually still liked him, though even they would try to get him to settle down sometimes. He was just so RUDE. Anyway, the presenter interrupted me to deliver a lengthy lecture about how we should not demean students by talking about them in the teacher's lounge. I tried to explain that I had no intention of saying his name, but she would not listen. I decided not to talk again (I'm always deciding not to talk again, and then going back on it.) But when she finally finished her lecture, another teacher said, "No, I want to hear your story." So I explained that this student was quite difficult, disruptive, etc. And I had eventually lost respect for him.

Now we get to the good part. A coach spoke up. I had heard his name and seen him around, but I didn't know him at all. He asked me, "So now, when you see someone else who looks like this kid, don't you transfer that disrespect to that other kid?" I was confused. I pictured this disruptive student, and he didn't really look like anyone else. He had one of those "apple"-shaped physiques, which are unusual among young people, and I just couldn't right that second think of anyone who looked like him. I expressed confusion. The coach repeated the question, rephrasing it slightly. This time he asked me about seeing another student who "dressed like" the disruptive student. I gleaned he must be talking about pants that hang low. The coach had no way of knowing that I am adamantly against dress codes, and rarely even notice that a guy has dragging pants. I know this because at my old school, the security guard would pass by my room and point out dress code violations to me, and I almost never had even noticed the low pants, hats, or lowcut tops worn by various students. I just don't care. But I suddenly realized what he was getting at. Many white teachers (and some black) really HATE the dragging pants! And even though lots of white boys wear their pants that way, it's still sort of attached, in some people's minds, with black culture! The coach was African-American! He thought the disruptive student was black! He thought I was hating!

I announced to the room, "Just for the record, the student was white." The coach didn't say another word; just turned back around.

See how much misunderstanding was there, just in that few minutes, about that one innocent topic? That coach's mind was nowhere near the bland topic of respect. He went immediately to, black vs. white. And I don't completely blame him. The workshop was supposedly about sensitivity, but the presenter centered exclusively on race. There's nothing wrong with talking about that; in fact we need to. But the presenter was entirely insincere when she named her workshop, and when she asked us to discuss respect. She had a canned answer she wanted ("Everyone deserves respect."), and she wanted to discuss race, and nothing but race. She wanted us to be honest, but she was completely false to us.

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