This was originally shared as a short Nerd Talk at nErDcampmi 2017. The audio will be made available this fall on the Nerdy Book Club Podcast. I cried quite a bit, so I don't know how audible the audio will actually be. It is my hope that you find some comfort, heart, or confirmation in my words. If my words upset you and you feel offended, that's okay too. You are the one that needs to hear it the most. This is a portrait of one child's piecing together some of her childhood memories surrounding school. I do not have a learning disability, I do not live in poverty. But at times during my schooling, I was made to feel as though I wasn't enough. At times, I was made fun of for my thrift store clothes. Looking back, I never felt like I wasn't fully provided for, because I was, above and beyond. My parents were young and they were and still are smart, and caring. They are still married, they put me through college and they continue to teach me the value of hard work and not buying things I don't have the money for. This is the power of a caring relationship (my family and parents) versus the relationships I was often met with at school. So tread lightly, educators. Your words, your looks, your assumptions will have lasting impacts. In my case, there were many positive experiences with outstanding teachers, but they don't erase the bad ones.
I stand before you today, a reader, a learner and a thinker, despite some of the educators I have had along the way.
I can count on one hand the positive memories I have associated with reading as a child, that were connected to my educators. A Kindergarten Intervention Specialist whose room I would reenact There's An Alligator Under My Bed, complete with paper bags filled with plastic fruits and vegetables. My third grade teacher's Superfudge voice is still stuck in my head. An ordinary pebble given to me by my librarian after a read aloud of Sylvester's Magic Pebble. The kind of pebble that made me, as a child, feel like anything was possible. And perhaps the most lasting memory, was meeting THE RL Stine, an Ohio author you may have heard of before, in my elementary school library. Sidenote: our current librarian was weeding the collect at my elementary, I work in the district where I went to school. She found a copy of The Haunted Mask signed to "Central Elementary Friends" and she gifted me that book this year.
My time up here could be filled with the negative reading experiences over the course of my education. Being one of a minimal amount of seventh graders to fail the reading proficiency test. I spent the summer in summer school being drilled and killed. Finally giving my middle school reading teacher the most genuine smile her face showed me in those two years. Which, may seem endearing, but in actuality it was damaging. It made me feel like all of my worth was wrapped up in her being able to check me off a list of students who had passed.
Or the time in a high school social studies class where I spent my time socializing because I didn't understand the content, and maybe because I was bored, only to be called sorry by my teacher, in front of my peers.
I am not an advocate of children being disrespectful, but sorry?
Sorry that you can't engage the youth.
Sorry that you hate coming to "work" every day and you make sure we know it.
Sorry that you feel giving your kids worksheet after worksheet is actually teaching.
Sorry that you only saw a problem, when I, a child, stood before you.
A child with two young parents.
A child with WIC on her doorstep and thrift store clothes on her back.
A child who struggled a little bit with reading, but loved books more than anything in the world.
My teachers had good intentions. I'm sure.
But I am here to tell you that the world does not need your good intentions.
I do not need them, and if I do not need them, your kids definitely do not need them.
We don't need what makes education easiest for YOU, the adult in the room.
We don't need a clip chart on the wall showcasing all of our mistakes. Your cute clip art doesn't make it easier to be dehumanized in front of our friends.
We don't need novel study packets. We don't all need to read the same book, at the same time.
We don't need to know our reading levels, because none of you in this room know yours.
We don't need the assumption that an empty chair during parent-teacher conferences means that our families don't care about our educations.
We don't need to spend all quarter reading ONLY ONE BOOK.
We don't need a carpet spot because you don't understand that our young bodies were built to move.
We don't need every single book in our classroom libraries to be filled with kids that don't look or feel like who we are or the families we are a part of.
We don't need you telling us what to think. What is fair and just. And we don't need you to tell us to be silent when all we want to do is scream.
The world does not need your good intentions.
In Rita Williams-Garcia's newest book, Clayton Byrd Goes Underground there is a quote I have to share: "Around Cool Papa, Clayton didn't feel like a kid. He felt like a person." This is what we need.
Books, at our fingertips. In every room of our school. Books about the things we care about, not the things you care about. And teachers who love talking about those books with us.
Smiles. The kind that let us know that there is no other place you would rather be, than here, with us. Laugh with us, let us see that young person with the fire in their belly who decided they cared so much about the world that they wanted to help raise its children.
Supplies. So we don't have to be embarrassed over Rose Art, not Crayola. So we don't have to see that disappointed look on your face when we happen to lose our pencil, again.
Relationships. Get to know us, get to know our families. Care about us and listen to us when we speak to you or when we ask you questions. Be calm when we are overcome with big emotions. Know us enough to know that some of us get our siblings up and ready for school each day.
Choice. Let us choose whenever possible. Books, pieces of writing, seats, read alouds, classroom set up, curriculum. How can we be expected to make real decisions when no one is allowing our voices to be heard?
Humility. Instead of being annoyed that I am an hour late, let joy wash over your face when mine finally comes through that door. Instead of being agitated that I need to use the bathroom again, just let me go, as you would hope someone would let you go.
And last but not least, truth and knowledge. Hard conversations, educators who know their growth and depth of knowledge has no fixed endpoint, books that tackle the topics we live with everyday. A platform for our voices to be heard, honest depictions of our world, multi faceted narratives, the ability to evaluate sources, a chance to critically examine our own biases and then the means to do something about them.
I want you to stand up if someone in this room has ever inspired you. Inspired you to be a better person, inspired you to think harder and given you support when it comes to supporting kids.
Look around, you are what we need.
Teachers, authors, librarians, administrators... like Cool Papa who are dedicated to seeing us as people, not just kids.