Day Eleven and Twelve: Choices

Yesterday was a day back at the school.  Outside.  Cars of kids paraded around gathering supplies and one last good bye.  It felt different.  I felt different.  A mix of everything. Being forced away.  The need for equality for our students of color.  This flicker.  

Today was a listening session.  A student spoke and to me this was the biggest a-ha! moment.  Seeing another teacher of color that I worked side-by-side with share his story.  I didn't know their pain.  Or ask about them.  Connect.

I am still reading Francois Clemmon's book.  I can't help but feel the punch at the choices he had to make.  He faced not only being a man of color in the height of the battle to desegregation. He had to fight battles for being a gay man in the beginning of the battles  for equal rights.  The blatant racism.  The blatant homophobia.  It seemed to me that a lot of the choices he made had to do with survival.  But he still made beautiful music.  He still valued his desire to help.  To be a helper.  

I think I often fear being seen as a racist.  Saying the wrong thing.  Doing the wrong thing.  Being accused that I put up walls to protect myself.  I don't give the same attention out of fear.  This is just another way to be racist.  I can't demand anyone point out my racism, I need to be able recognize it myself.   The way I do this is by keep doing the hard work.

My choices need to be to lead with compassion.