When police fight
We fight back
We use our words
–Â Excerpt from a poem by a 7th grader
At the beginning of the year, when my students and I recapped the summer news, we talked about police brutality, but we didnât delve to far into the issue. I wanted to build more schema, a deeper understanding of the systems that underlie racism and inequality in our country.
Then Terence Crutcher was shot and killed and my plans no longer mattered. We had to talk.
So, we did.
By this point, Iâve taught through enough heartbreak that I have a formula for days like this. We sit in a community circle. We start with a video, usually a song. On Wednesday, it was the haunting visuals and questioning version of âWhere is the Love?â by Black Eyed Peas feat. The World.
Then we read a text, in this case, the heartbreaking words of Terenceâs sister (âThat big âbad dude,â his life mattered.), and this CNN article.
I give them a few minutes to silently reflect and jot down their ideas, and then we talk.
If you teach middle school, and think that your students are too young, or that families or administrators might disapprove, or that they wonât understand, or think that youâre protecting them by not talking about it, you need to move past excuses. If youâre afraid of what they might say, or feel like you donât know what to say, you need to overcome your fear. This isnât about you. This is for them.
After reading the article, one student punched the ground. Many others started silently crying. Most read, reread the facts, scrawled on their papers, âWhy did the police do that?â
My first question is, âWhat are you thinking/feeling after reading this?â By the end of the day, their responses, in their heartbreaking variety, have left me feeling numb.
Iâm feeling sad and angry because the man was a father and was going to college.
I donât know what to think after reading it.
This world is supposed to be peaceful and happy but I guess this will happen because the world is racist.
Why is he a âbad dudeâ?
Why would they judge someone?
I wanted to be a police officer, but now Iâm embarrassed.
What I am thinking is that the world is cruel.
Why was the cop so afraid?
The police in my neighborhood are friendly and are part of the community. Why arenât all police part of their communities?
Why would they do this, weâre all human beings the color DOES NOT MEAN NOTHING.
Iâm thinking about my father and my cousins, because what if they leave one day and never come back?
Cops are here for us to trust them, not for us to be scared at them.
We go around two, three times. Students respond to one another, talk about family members theyâve lost, their experiences with racism. Sometimes they just stare at the ground, sigh, and pass the talking piece.
Then we move on to questions and, after warning them that I wonât be able to answer most of their questions, not the big ones, not the ones that matter, we share what weâre wondering. Other than clarifications, the most common two questions are, Why did this happen? And Why doesnât anyone do anything?
Then we circle back to our opening question, âWhere is the love?â That question, I say, is easy. The love is here, in our hearts, in our community, in how much we care in this moment. The real question is how can we, as individuals and a community, take a stand and show our love? How can we move from words and feelings to action and change?
We can show love by making sure the police wait until they actually see whatâs going on and do what they have to do.
We can take small steps to make a difference by talking or making a speech about how we can show love.
Making art.
We can show love and make a difference by letting people know what we believe in and we can all speak up. We can take a chance to become friends.
We can write letters to his family.
We can make a difference by being different and as we get older we can make a difference in the word.
We can show love by doing something small and meaningful for the family of Crutcher.
We can make a protest.
Bring justice, send love.
I give students a minute to reflect on how theyâre feeling after this circle, and then we check-out. The first text we read this year was the wonderful childrenâs book Last Stop on Market Street by Matt de la Pena. I reread the page where, after getting off the bus and looking around the neighborhood, our young protagonistâs nana tells him, âSometimes when youâre surrounded by dirt. . . youâre a better witness for whatâs beautiful.â
My last prompt is to say the name of someone whom you love.
My family.
My family.
My family.
My family.
My family.
My family.
So, whatâs next? The next day, multiple students told me they went home after school and cried. Parents called and told me they were glad we had the conversation. One student, who hadnât said a word the entire time, said she felt better after realizing she wasnât alone. Several students approached me and said they wanted to help, so weâre forming a student task force. Next week weâll look over their classmatesâ ideas and determine our next steps. Iâd like to get parents involved and make it more of a community task force, so that we can move forward together.
My lesson was not perfect by any meansâââI wrote it Tuesday night and gave it on Wednesdayâââbut it gave them facts to work with and an opportunity to share their questions, fears, and hopes. Regardless of what text you use, or what your hook is, the sharing is what actually matters. Itâs cathartic, itâs cleansing, and itâs unifying.
I ran my class as a community circleâââcircle up, ground ourselves, and share around the circle so that every voice has an opportunity to be heard. I gave the kids a handout to reflect on, so that theyâd have some think time in order to gather their thoughts, and so that I could gather my own thoughts.
You donât know what to say? You donât need to. You need to show that this is okay to talk about, that itâs okay to be angry and afraid, that they arenât alone. Youâre giving them the space to share, to clarify one anotherâs understandings; youâre not telling them how to think or feel.
If you have suggestions, questions, or different approaches, please share them. We all stumble through this together.
On Friday, we used some studentsâ ideas and wrote letters to Crutcherâs family. Iâd like to close this with one of those letters.
Dear family,
I am writing this specifically to the child of Terence Crutcher. Please excuse me for my bad writing. I am a 7th grader. I canât imagine how difficult it must be to lose your father, Iâm so sorry. Just remember, you are going to have to stay strong and be someone who will group up to lead, to be an hero, an achiever.
You can bring justice to your father, I can, we all can, and to everyone else in the world who has been killed because of police. I want to cry every time, but I donât see that crying will change anything. The world needs a change.
I want to tell you how much I want to help you and support you. I believe in you as something amazing. I see everyone like that, but what police are doing is wrong. I want peace, love, freedom. I imagine you do as well, thatâs why you have to push forward. Overall, I want to send you some love and help you the best I can. Please remember what I wrote, you deserve only good because what happened to you is not right. I hope you can get through this, I know you can.
Love,
Guest Post by: Dan Thalkar (@dthalkar)
Humanities Teacher in Los Angeles, CA