A common question that I get involves some form of “Sheldon, I want to do better. I want to help others and be an ally. I want to be a voice and support my peers, colleagues, students, and parents. Nonetheless, situations occur, and I don't necessarily know the terminology. What should I say?” I like to give educators the tools and resources necessary to ensure equity at their school. I try to give the language they need and provide them with examples of situations by saying, “This is what I said. This is what I would say in these types of situations,” to help folks out. As I started thinking about many of my experiences as an educator and as an individual doing this work, I started thinking about that word, ally.
I'm No Longer an Ally, and Here's Why
I remember doing my student teaching. I'm not going to tell you how long ago it was, but it was a while ago. Let's say that. I was a young lad. I remember going to one of the schools, and I recall being in a teachers' lounge and just kind of listening to some of the teachers as they talked about the school and some of the students. I'll be honest. I didn't feel very comfortable with how some of the teachers were talking about the students. “This is a brand-new environment; who am I?” I thought to myself, I'm just a student-teacher. I don't have any clout.
I listened to some of the staff members make some negative comments about some of the students who were labeled as troublemakers or students who weren't seen favorably by some of the other staff members. I remember not saying anything. I just figured, You know what. I'm new here, and even though I don't like what I'm hearing, I'm just going to walk away and not engage in this conversation. I left the staff lounge, and I don't think I went back there throughout the rest of my student teaching.
I shared this story with one of the professors at my university. I used to love talking to this woman because she was one of those individuals who spoke her mind, and she didn't hold back. As I'm sharing this story, I'm smiling. I was like, I walked away because I didn't want any part in this conversation. I'll never forget what she said to me. She said these five words, “And what did you do?” See, when I was at that school and I was developing my teaching skills, I thought I was doing the right thing by just walking away and not engaging in the conversation. I had been student teaching at the school long enough to know who they were discussing, but I was a student teacher. I wasn't even certified. It was my last year in college. I was brand new. No one knew who I was. Who was I? I thought the right thing was just to walk away and not say anything.
Not Doing Anything Is Not Doing Anything
I saw the disappointment in her face because I responded, “Well, I didn't do anything. I left.” At that moment, I came to the realization that not doing anything was not doing anything. Does that make sense? Not doing anything was not doing anything at all. Let me interject. Sometimes, we have opportunities when we overhear something or witness something. We may be in a staff meeting, and the things that are being said and discussed make us feel like we should raise our hand and speak up. We may think, Let me stop this. However, sometimes, our positionality and confidence may hinder us. I feel like the phrase imposter syndrome gets thrown round a lot. We start to wonder, Who am I to be in this space?
I'll never forget those five words the professor said to me, “And what did you do?” Those words had me thinking, Oh man, I didn't do anything. I thought I did the right thing by not responding and just walking away. What I realized is I could have said something. I could have said something such as, “You know what? I know I'm new here. I know I'm not even staff, but I must be honest. I'm a little disappointed because I'm really excited about being an educator. I'm a candidate right now, and it's kind of disappointing to hear the negativity being spoken to our students.” I could have left it there. I could have gone even further and said, “I haven't been here long, and I don't know the student's back story. However, he's a human being, and I think he deserves a chance. If we take the time to create that relationship, maybe we wouldn't feel that way.”
The thing about the term ally, to be honest, is that allyship isn't precisely what's needed right now at this moment. Furthermore, allyship can become very performative. Sometimes I hear the question, “Will things change when it comes to equality or when it comes to folks being treated fairly or the end of racism? Will that happen in our lifetime? Or will these things continue from generation to generation to generation to generation?” I think the reason things continue to be the way they are, especially for those who want to end things, is that we never say or do anything to change the way we think about others. It is ineffective to say, “Yes, what's happening is wrong,” but we don't do anything about it. If we just say, “I wish that things were different, but I want to be a safe space, so therefore, I'm an ally” or “I have a poster, and I have a sign or BLM flag in my classroom” or things like that, where's the action?
Unfortunately, a lot of the allyship can become performative very quickly. Now, you might have heard the term performative wokeness, but what does it mean? According to Lizzy Bowes (2017), “Performative wokeness is a superficial show of solidarity with minority and oppressed bodies of people that enables people to reap the social benefits of ‘wokeness' without actually undertaking any of the necessary legwork to combat injustice and inequality.” I like this definition because at the end of the day, the question that I have for you is, “Well, what are your motives?”
Yes, we're educators. We want to be there for our kids. We want to support them, and I think we can all agree that no matter what your views are, we want the best for our students. John Dewey said, “What the best and wisest parent wants for his child, that must we want for all the children of the community. Anything less is unlovely and, left unchecked, destroys our democracy.” I think we can agree that we want the best for our students as if they are our own flesh and blood, but what are your motives?
What Are Your Motives?
I did a training with a group of teacher candidates a while ago. A good professor colleague of mine invited me to lead the training, and he asked me talk about equity in education. After providing my lecture, I opened the floor for some Q&A. I love to do Q&A because when I prepare a lesson for some group with whom I'm going to work, I assume that I'm delivering information and engagement based off what is needed. I love to follow up with Q&A because maybe I missed something or maybe I didn't touch on a question or a topic that an individual in the audience might have had.
A young white woman raised her hand. She said, “I am finishing up my teacher program soon, and I am very into equity work. I want to be the best teacher I can be and be there for my students. Should I go to an urban school, or should I go to a suburban school?” I remember responding with, “I can't answer that question. What are your motives? I don't know you. I know nothing about you. I don't know if you are saying, ‘I feel like I can do good at an urban school, teach kids, and help provide a voice and advocacy