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Honor and Respect For Those Who Came Before
In Current Events today, one of the young black gentlemen we teach complained that the news is boring. During the course of trying to inspire him differently, I inquired about his age-- he's 17 and will be 18 in May.
"Then you should be interested in the campaigning-- you'll be able to vote in the upcoming presidential election!" crowed I, feeling that I had trumped some of his arguments on why he shouldn't pursue the news.
"Uh-uh. I am never going to vote. I don't care about that stuff."
"But you should care about the person who is chosen to be the next leader of your country-- that person will be making decisions that could affect your life."
"No, not really."
"... Aren't you in [Andy's] Government class?"
"Oh, he is," Andy chimed in.
The student shrugged at me. I stared at him. After a second, I ventured, "You will have no right to complain about how your country is run if you don't vote."*
"I don't. I really don't care about any of that. It doesn't bother me."
"Well thank God you didn't live 50 or 60 years ago."**
The saddest thing about the above exchange is that I am 99% positive that he didn't understand what I meant by my last statement. I'm not even sure the smartest girl in the class got it. And that really bothers me, in that the Civil Rights movement of the 50's and 60's is so recent as to be still on the back porch of today's society, yet none of my students seem to know anything about it or to care about it. (I know the 15th Amendment was ratified in 1870, but there were plenty of ways African Americans were prevented from voting in the near-century that followed.)
When I was in school, every year I would be irritated about February being Black History Month. I only verbalized my dissatisfaction once because I was afraid of somehow being labeled racist in daring to protest the institution. What I felt was this: every minority should have its own special educational month and, ideally, no one would have a special month because everyone would be learned about equally, always. So I stewed over the presence of Black History Month and the lack of Native American History Month and Chinese American History Month and so on until I realized that at least Black History Month was a step in the right direction: it may be unfair that the others didn't have one, but at least there was an attempt to open up education. (Although I still think that we shouldn't settle for having one month out of the year dedicated to educating students about one minority and should instead integrate full and open information about all peoples in all curricula. I will fight for that one the rest of my days.)
Last year, however, I fully embraced the convention of Black History Month. Why? Because nearly none of my students had any education regarding the Civil Rights movement... when the history literally surrounds us here in Montgomery, Alabama. The church that Martin Luther King Jr. preached at is literally less than ten minutes away. The bus stop where Rosa Parks boarded a bus and refused to relinquish her seat at, subsequently starting the Bus Boycott, is about the same distance. The Selma-to-Montgomery marches concluded in, surprise, Montgomery. And on.
I am passionate about literature and history: understanding where we come from is important to me. I celebrate the past triumphs of my family and ancestors, as well as feel sorrow for past transgressions. I feel that those who came before me are due respect for the sacrifices they made and the successes they achieved.
I have never lived in a mental world where all my fellow humans did not deserve the same rights and respect that I deserve. I don't care if you're male or female, homosexual or heterosexual (& etc.), black or white (or Asian or Native & etc.)... we all are the same, owed the same respect, owed the same civil rights, and beholden to show the same to our fellows.
And with these beliefs of mine, it absolutely boggles my mind that my students have no clear idea of what went down a mere four or five decades ago. It boggles my mind that my students aren't proud of that generation: that they couldn't care less about Martin Luther King Jr. or Rosa Parks or E.D. Nixon or A. Philip Randolph or John Lewis or etc. I am proud of that generation. I think what they did was awesome.
I'm going to try my best to make sure my students do too.
* "You have no right to complain if you don't vote" isn't wholly representative of my thoughts on the subject. For example, if you consciously choose not to vote because you can't, in good conscience, give your vote to either candidate: that is a decision. You can complain about the state of the country after that. If, however, you don't vote because you simply can't be bothered to care, you lose a lot of credit with me.
** That should have been "40 to 50 years or so" but I was speaking off the cuff.
"Then you should be interested in the campaigning-- you'll be able to vote in the upcoming presidential election!" crowed I, feeling that I had trumped some of his arguments on why he shouldn't pursue the news.
"Uh-uh. I am never going to vote. I don't care about that stuff."
"But you should care about the person who is chosen to be the next leader of your country-- that person will be making decisions that could affect your life."
"No, not really."
"... Aren't you in [Andy's] Government class?"
"Oh, he is," Andy chimed in.
The student shrugged at me. I stared at him. After a second, I ventured, "You will have no right to complain about how your country is run if you don't vote."*
"I don't. I really don't care about any of that. It doesn't bother me."
"Well thank God you didn't live 50 or 60 years ago."**
The saddest thing about the above exchange is that I am 99% positive that he didn't understand what I meant by my last statement. I'm not even sure the smartest girl in the class got it. And that really bothers me, in that the Civil Rights movement of the 50's and 60's is so recent as to be still on the back porch of today's society, yet none of my students seem to know anything about it or to care about it. (I know the 15th Amendment was ratified in 1870, but there were plenty of ways African Americans were prevented from voting in the near-century that followed.)
When I was in school, every year I would be irritated about February being Black History Month. I only verbalized my dissatisfaction once because I was afraid of somehow being labeled racist in daring to protest the institution. What I felt was this: every minority should have its own special educational month and, ideally, no one would have a special month because everyone would be learned about equally, always. So I stewed over the presence of Black History Month and the lack of Native American History Month and Chinese American History Month and so on until I realized that at least Black History Month was a step in the right direction: it may be unfair that the others didn't have one, but at least there was an attempt to open up education. (Although I still think that we shouldn't settle for having one month out of the year dedicated to educating students about one minority and should instead integrate full and open information about all peoples in all curricula. I will fight for that one the rest of my days.)
Last year, however, I fully embraced the convention of Black History Month. Why? Because nearly none of my students had any education regarding the Civil Rights movement... when the history literally surrounds us here in Montgomery, Alabama. The church that Martin Luther King Jr. preached at is literally less than ten minutes away. The bus stop where Rosa Parks boarded a bus and refused to relinquish her seat at, subsequently starting the Bus Boycott, is about the same distance. The Selma-to-Montgomery marches concluded in, surprise, Montgomery. And on.
I am passionate about literature and history: understanding where we come from is important to me. I celebrate the past triumphs of my family and ancestors, as well as feel sorrow for past transgressions. I feel that those who came before me are due respect for the sacrifices they made and the successes they achieved.
I have never lived in a mental world where all my fellow humans did not deserve the same rights and respect that I deserve. I don't care if you're male or female, homosexual or heterosexual (& etc.), black or white (or Asian or Native & etc.)... we all are the same, owed the same respect, owed the same civil rights, and beholden to show the same to our fellows.
And with these beliefs of mine, it absolutely boggles my mind that my students have no clear idea of what went down a mere four or five decades ago. It boggles my mind that my students aren't proud of that generation: that they couldn't care less about Martin Luther King Jr. or Rosa Parks or E.D. Nixon or A. Philip Randolph or John Lewis or etc. I am proud of that generation. I think what they did was awesome.
I'm going to try my best to make sure my students do too.
* "You have no right to complain if you don't vote" isn't wholly representative of my thoughts on the subject. For example, if you consciously choose not to vote because you can't, in good conscience, give your vote to either candidate: that is a decision. You can complain about the state of the country after that. If, however, you don't vote because you simply can't be bothered to care, you lose a lot of credit with me.
** That should have been "40 to 50 years or so" but I was speaking off the cuff.
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