But for the serendipity of life I might have been an English teacher. After all I had imagined myself sitting on a high stool, swathed in a shawl, speaking of the human experience that is chronicled in literature and poetry. Because I had balanced my college course work with classes in mathematics I was instead redirected by the very first principal for whom I worked. I would end up spending most of my career explaining the beauty of the many threads of mathematics that tie together the inner workings of our world.
It was an interesting and quite creative gig indeed, one rarely critiqued by students, parents or school administrators who often noted how difficult they had found math to be. I had the advantage of knowing things that sometimes mystified them. I’d often hear confessions of regret for not becoming better versed in the finer points of algebra or geometry. Most of the blame for that omission was placed on a lack of interest or a belief that nobody in the genetic line of the family had ever been particularly good at ciphering. Rarely was a mathematics teacher attacked for wanting to corrupt the minds of students with the highly structured scope and sequence of the curriculum.
On the other hand it seemed to be the English and History teachers who were the most likely to enrage protective parents who demanded that teachers proceed with caution. They had to carefully craft their lesson plans lest someone disagree with their methods or choice of books. While outrage was a minimal experience during my days inside schools, it seems now to have reached a fever pitch in which almost everything that teachers do is measured against the unique beliefs of individual families. Even the manner in which concepts are taught has come under scrutiny. It’s enough to drive wary educators out of the profession.
When I was in high school my English teacher was the king of his domain. He saw it as his duty to expose us to a cosmopolitan world view. As such we read books that challenged our limited thinking and expanded our willingness to think about differing ways of living. He took us to the Alley Theater to watch plays that were charged with adult topics. He told us about new books that were filled with controversy. He admitted that he wanted to make us citizens of the world. As a result he became the favorite teacher of virtually every student who ever sat in his classroom. We were fascinated by breaking the bonds of our isolated lives and learning about other cultures and lifestyles.
Years later when I had worked my way up the career ladder to become the Dean of Faculty I watched another gifted English teacher expounded on the human experience with no holds barred. He opened the eyes of his students by showing them how intertwined we all are with a complex world. He allowed them to think for themselves and encouraged them to develop compassion for their fellow humans.
It pains me to observe the many misunderstandings about what English and History teachers are attempting to convey to their students. I can’t understand how being honest about what is happening around us can be misjudged as grooming or some kind of evil intent. Avoiding uncomfortable topics does not protect young people, but hiding reality from them might impede their growth into mature adults able to think critically about the situations that most certainly will challenge them.
In the past year I have seen the difference between myself and my father-in-law who is only about twenty years older than I am. He grew up in a small town where economic and social divisions were pronounced. His worldview is defined by restrictions and the kind of thinking that comes from being unfamiliar with people not like himself. His upbringing is not uncommon at all for those in age group known sometimes as the traditionalists. His experience with other races or lifestyles has always been limited by the fences that were built to protect him.
By both happenstance and education my enclosures were knocked down. My life changed dramatically at several junctures and forced me into environments quite different from the one that my parents had originally designed for me. My education included the glorious freedom introduced by my English teacher and then expanded by other educators down the road. These influences have made more open to people who may at first seem unlike me but whom I ultimately know to be universally tied to me by our respective journeys through life. Good teachers have shown me how to relate with people from hundreds of years ago who may have been different in dress or custom, but who ultimately felt the same kind of emotions that I experience.
Living out our lives can feel frightening and even dangerous at times. Going it alone or from the perspective of a limited range of people can make our journeys more difficult. Books and writings now being deemed to be controversial by those who would ban them are in reality a bridge to understanding and kindness. To Kill a Mockingbird, The Kite Runner, Things Fall Apart may cause us to cry or even become angry but mostly they demonstrate the resilience and goodness of people that helps them to defy even the most difficult situations with grace and honor.
As a parent and grandparent I appreciate the teachers who have made my loved ones more open to new ways of viewing their fellow humans. Knowing about racism has not made them feel guilty, it has challenged them to be kinder and more fair. Learning about differences in lifestyles has not groomed them, it has made them more understanding and loving. Banning things is not the answer. Prohibition of alcohol quite clearly proved the ridiculousness of foisting a one size fits all way of living on an entire population. The much better way is to expand the possibilities of our young by helping them to become citizens of the world. The human experience is often more alike than different. Let’s help our children to realize that important feature of being part of the entire world, not just a tiny piece of it.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 