White Music Teacher…Do Better

If I can be honest, I’ve been stewing on whether or not to write this blog post for days now.  I even told one of my best friends I have so much to say, but I don’t want this to be about me or to offend anyone with my words at all.  That is never and will never be my intention. 

But, with so much stewing in my heart, I knew I had to get my words down in the hopes of helping other white educators.  After praying about it, I knew it was time. 

I pray those of you reading this post can see and hear my heart through my words.  Or, you can hear me talk about this topic here in this podcast episode. Because, that is the only way I’m coming at you is with a completely loving and open heart to learn and also share with you today.

 

Before I Began Teaching

During college, I knew I was called to work with low income kids.  I just knew this was where I was supposed to be, yet didn’t yet know how or what this would look like.

When I got hired to teach at my first elementary school, I was so excited.  It was the middle of the school year, this school hadn’t had music for 7 years because of budget cuts, and this was an inner city school.  At that point, that didn’t mean anything to me.  I just was excited to teach music and to share everything I had just learned in college with every class that came through my classroom doors.

I remember telling my friends and family about this new position I had gotten and received some replies from them like, “Why do you want to teach there?” or “Don’t you know it would be way easier for you if you didn’t teach in “that” part of town?”

These are the same people who knew my passion and desire to work with kids of poverty.  These are also the same people who knew I had no desire to work at a school like the one I had grown up with, where everything was just “easy” and not culturally diverse in any way.

Those questions and replies caught me off guard.  It was probably when I first realized the inadvertent racism that exists in my small world.

 

While Getting Ready for the Kids

I began setting up my classroom and could hear next door to me pencils being thrown and kids yelling across the room.  I peaked my head into the window to see a long term substitute in the art room with her feet propped up on the desk reading a book.  I think my jaw literally hit the floor.  What was going on in there?

I got a little nervous, because I would be seeing those same kids the next week, since I was given a full week to set up my classroom.  There were of course those new teacher nerves that everyone feels, but also mixed in with the fear that those same students would act that way in my music room.

I now realize, I was developing preconceived notions of these kids.

Instead of thinking about the fact that there was a long term sub with absolutely no classroom management, I began comparing the behavior I saw to the students I had just worked with in my all white school student teaching placement and wondering if I had made a mistake accepting this teaching position.

I now realize these thoughts were part of what the problem is now.  How many others before me had run away because of these exact reasons?  How many of these kids hadn’t gotten a quality education because a teacher wasn’t willing to work at this school because it would be “too hard?”

 

My First Week

The students started coming to music and I was so excited.  They were going to love my music classroom, or so I thought.  Then, my very first day ever with my very first class, I heard…”my mama said I don’t have to listen to you because you’re white.”  Um… what now?

To say I was completely caught off guard would be an understatement.  Why would this student say this?  Don’t they know I’m here for them?  I’m not a racist at all.  Then, I got my feelings hurt.  It became all about me instead of understanding why this sentence was said in the first place.

I got through my first week like most first year teachers do.  It was a bunch of stumbling around just hoping I was covering the procedures correctly.

There was also a lot of “advice” being thrown my way by my well meaning mentor teacher about “calling their bluff” and “let them know who’s boss”, but nothing said to me about being loving, understanding, and compassionate.  So, I did what I was taught.  I became so strict with rules and guidelines and didn’t let my guard down at all, for fear of these kids not liking me because I was white.

Lost in the shuffle of all of this was me being afraid to understand my students and not even entertaining the thought of forming a relationship with them. I felt lost and really did think I was doing the right thing by them.  What they needed to do was follow the rules, and the music learning would follow.  Or, so I thought.

 

When Things Began To Change

I spent hours creating what I thought my students needed, not what they really needed.  Then, I realized it’s important to meet your students where they’re at and to not just teach what you know.  Adapting, growing, and learning from your students is vital.

It took me a while, but I realized maybe the push back I was receiving from my students is because I wasn’t reaching them where they needed to be reached and music class wasn’t relevant.

You see, most of my students grew up in poverty and would live with grandparents, older siblings were in gangs, parents were in jail, and there would be drive by shootings the night before. They came to school tired, worn out, and the last thing they wanted to do was be told to sing some song.

I realized that I needed to adapt my instruction, big time.  How many songs did I teach my students that I could just shift a bit to reach them in a better way?

Yes, music mattered, but so did connecting with these kids, forming relationships with them, earning their trust, and giving them the love and understanding they needed and deserved.  I started remembering that I was teaching school children, and not just the curriculum.

I began finding ways to understand my students better from the way they talked, to what they were talking about, to why they said something a certain way.  Me taking the time to truly listen and learn, allowed my students to feel comfortable not only learning music with me, but to trust me that I understood them as a human being.

 

 

 

Ways I Began Showing Up For My Students Better

I had kiddos of all colors in my classroom, but most of them were black.  But, in the music room everyone was included and everyone learned about each others histories and musical preferences.  We all completely enjoyed making music together.

Every child knew they mattered, that their culture mattered, and that they would be celebrated for who they were when they were with me.

It took me about 2 years to get to the point where my students AND their families felt like they could trust me.  They saw me not just teach music to their kids, but truly creating the music room to be a culturally relevant experience.  It’s ironically when I also won the Teacher of the Year award.

I learned things at conferences and workshops, yet knew I needed to adapt these ideas for my students.  It couldn’t be a one sized fits all, cookie cutter approach.  I had to do better for them.

My students began developing a love for music, not just the music room.  I didn’t just use the folk songs I was told to teach while in college, because a lot of those were written and handed down by white people. I began finding folk songs MY students could relate to and learn from.

When it came to teaching about the composer of the month, I knew it had to be about black musicians, not just about jazz and hip hop.  What inspired the great black musicians to write and perform the music they did?  This was a question we talked about a lot, then it helped them create and appreciate music in a better and deeper way.

Why did so many of my students go on to pursue music or be in performing ensembles?  Because I helped make it relevant for them.  They could see themselves as a musician, and not just as another student going through an elementary music class.

 

I Began Seeing Things Through Their Lens

I encouraged my students that they can and will succeed in life and that there is no limits to what they can accomplish in music or not.

The behavior issues of a lot of these students was due to so much they were dealing with at home and they couldn’t hold it in any longer at school.  My heart began to soften and I became much more understanding and open to having conversations they needed me to have. 

I also began showing up in their community more.  I’d go to sports events and then when they were in middle school to their ensemble performances. 

Then, I also had a set of siblings lose their mom to a deadly shooting.  This experience rocked me to my core and sitting at her funeral, I began understanding the heartache and pain this community is living each and every day. 

How many times had a black child or their parent that I came into contact with experienced racism?  How many times had they thought that I was showing those tendencies without me even realizing it?  

The black educators at my school helped me understand certain things going on in the community, and I now realize that wasn’t their job, but mine to learn.

 

What I Understand Now That I Didn’t Then

I thought I could relate to a lot of the hurt going on in the lives of my students, having come from a family of trauma myself.   In a way, I definitely could.  But, it still wasn’t the same.

I used to tell my students there are no excuses and to work hard despite their hardships. But, I never got to the point of understanding what might happen once they did that.  I never realized they could reach success, yet still live in fear.   

I also put myself through college, definitely didn’t have things handed to me, and have worked my butt off to get where I’m at.  But, it’s still not the same. 

My students could work just as hard and make a great life for themselves, but still have to worry about being alone on a sidewalk and having someone call the cops on them just because of what they look like and it sickens me. 

I loved those kids and still do to this day.  Although they’re all in their late teens to 20’s now, they’re still my kids.  I’ve kept in contact with so many of them, and am still encouraging them in life as much as I can. 

I’ve loved seeing a lot of them pursue and obtain college degrees, out there making a life for themselves, and two are college athletes near me right now and we’ve messaged back and forth about sports.  

 

Why Having Conversations with Kids is a Good Thing

I’m honest and open with my kids and have honest conversations with them at their age level.  Their cousin is half black and just recently one of my boys stated, “Eden’s skin is darker than mine” and we talked about how her skin is beautiful and how God creates everyone in his image, although we can look different.  Then he smiled and ran off to play.

He was just making an observation and wasn’t meaning anything by this sentence at all.  But, he sure was watching and listening to what I would say next.

Another one of my sons best friends is black, and he told me one day they look the same.  He told me they both like basketball clothes and the same kind of shoes and they look the same because they’re the same height.  It made me teary eyed. 

If we could all just stay little kids with kid thinking and emotions. This is why it’s important to teach kids these things while they’re young and to encourage these conversations, because one day these same kids will grow into adults. 

 

Final Thoughts

Now, as I’ve made the pivot to working with teachers, I’ll talk more about my experiences in the hopes that it will help even one teacher to fight prejudices. 

I’ll continue talking about racism more, reading books, attending PD, volunteering in my community, teaching my boys to do the same and answering questions they might have, and not feel uncomfortable with the topic at hand.

Yes, everyone matters and we need to be accepting of all skin colors and backgrounds.  But, we also need to be willing to hear and understand those who don’t look or act like we do as well.  Your experiences, input, background, and life matter to me so much.