Teach-Now Module 4 Unit 1 Activity 3: Establishing a Classroom Climate
Never Fitting In
I was an Asian American girl being raised in a school district that was 99% white. Isolated and outcast, I developed a keen understanding of what being an outsider is like. Both I and the rest of my family (including my parents) experienced that sense of being rejected, othered, and isolated.
To this day, I question my mother's decision to choose that particular town in that particular area, and I wonder what kind of person I could have become if I hadn't experienced the constant bullying I endured throughout my elementary and middle school life. At the same time, I appreciate the person I've become now, and the experiences I am able to bring to into the classroom as a teacher because of it. The connections I forge with my students in part comes from sharing the hardships I had endured as a child, and that is something I am thankful for.
Caught Between Cultures
When I was very young, about eight years old, I remember that I made a decision that affected my values and priorities. As an Asian American growing up in the 80s and 90s, I endured constant pressure to fit in and submit to mainstream norms. And by this, I don't mean just Whiteness, or American-ness. Unlike the rest of my Asian Americans peers, I refused to reject my Asian heritage. Unlike them, I did not grow up with internalized shame and self-hatred of my racial, ethnic, and cultural background. In that sense, I was very lucky. It is common for Asian Americans (AAs) to feel disconnected from their heritage, and to regret it during adulthood, when it is often too late to relearn or to pick up their language. I did not.
However, I did experience criticism toward my parents. First it started when other classmates told me that my parents were wrong for giving me "extra homework" outside of school. Other parents and teachers would also comment offhand that this was abusive. Since no child really wants to do extra work after school, I became used as a wedge between the faculty and my parents. For the rest of my time at school, my parents' attempts to raise me were constantly put down, undermined, and as a result I became both torn between wishing to defend my parents, but also wondering if my teachers were correct.
This conflict led to the several major depressive incidents, and led to a damaged parent-child relationship that could not be repaired until years later. It also damaged my future prospects, and limited the choices that I could make in terms of my interests and career paths. The lament, "Oh, if only I had done what they had told me to do back then," applies to me as well, in spite of the fact that I remained unscathed in other areas.
Choosing One or the Other
I believe that my teachers meant well, and had good intentions. However, I also never plan to repeat the mistakes they made: that is, creating a rift between parent and child. Mind you, my parents are certainly not perfect, and some of the things they did definitely fell under the category of abuse. But the way this abuse was addressed was different from the way it was addressed with white students. In addition to being told that my parents were abusive, there had definitely been an element of culture-shaming, a hint that my parents' abuse wasn't due to the fact that they were abusive, but because of the culture they sprang from. "This is America, so they need to learn to our ways," they would say. "In America, we consider that abuse." Unknowingly, my teachers had laid the boundary as a choice I had to make between Western and Eastern culture, one where I could not merely choose, but had to denounce over the other.
It wasn't until I got older that I realized that this boundary was artificial. I could, and still do, live in a
Recognizing that Culture is Fluid and Changes
Because of this, I am leery of statements that claim that, "Usually X culture does this," or "X culture does that." Having taught for ten years in diverse and international settings, I have learned that exceptions are more common than not. Instead I have learned to focus on individual traits and values as a way to understand students, their families, and their backgrounds. While I understand that patterns exist, patterns are guidelines, not set rules.
Strategies for Creating a Culturally Inclusive Classroom
This is why getting to know my students is so important, and aside from the usual icebreakers, self-assessments, and questionnaires, my main strategy is to recognize that there is no "normal." All too often, "normal" is another term for "status quo." If I want to create a classroom where minorities feel safe, this would need to be minimized. To that end, I attempt to subvert norms by exposing my students to as much diverse material as possible. I also challenge reactions of confusion or discuss by asking students why they are upset/disturbed/confused/intrigued/surprised by one idea, behavior, food, etc. The idea is to get students to question their own norms and beliefs. I include positive reinforcement by acknowledging the difficulty of what they're doing, and point out such behavior in class as something to emulate. I myself model this by questioning my own norms and beliefs.
This is especially possible in literature class, which is what I teach, simply by giving students a variety of texts written by authors from around the world. By ensuring that the narrative isn't coming from a single demographic, I try to impress upon my students that everybody's voices are valid. As an English teacher, even grammar can be taught inclusively, as I acknowledge different types of Englishes and accepted grammar forms, pointing out that even between native speakers, grammar can shift in change (Ex. American: "to the hospital" vs. British: "to hospital").
Another strategy I use actually occurs when I utilize Socratic Seminar, which while useful during discussions, is especially useful for teaching students to make personal connections, but it especially teaches other students to listen. The idea behind Socratic Seminars is that ultimately everybody has something valuable to share, as much as the teacher, which I reinforce by deliberately removing myself from class discussions.
But above all, I think what is most important is to show that I care for my students as individuals. Asking how they are doing, taking care to know their names (and especially to pronounce it correctly), remembering their backgrounds, likes and dislikes, and preferences. I reinforce this by individual conferences, which doubles not just as effective feedback, but as individual bonding moments. I demonstrate my willingness to learn by asking students to teach me things about their languages, cultures, and traditions, and make a point of remembering it (this comes especially useful in identifying the swear words of every language, just to prevent students from using it in my class). My curriculum schedule allows for space to accommodate derailments, which can happen when a side exploration or unanticipated discussion arises that I judge to be more important than the lesson/content I am teaching.
I think that in the end, it is less about the lessons I teach, and more about the students I come to care about. Instead of fretting over the fact that my students still don't understand setting, I care that my students spent the past week not being able to see their parents. I don't know if that can be called strategy, as caring cannot be feigned. I can only say that if you are unable to care about your students' well-being, the perhaps you should seek another career.
I was an Asian American girl being raised in a school district that was 99% white. Isolated and outcast, I developed a keen understanding of what being an outsider is like. Both I and the rest of my family (including my parents) experienced that sense of being rejected, othered, and isolated.
To this day, I question my mother's decision to choose that particular town in that particular area, and I wonder what kind of person I could have become if I hadn't experienced the constant bullying I endured throughout my elementary and middle school life. At the same time, I appreciate the person I've become now, and the experiences I am able to bring to into the classroom as a teacher because of it. The connections I forge with my students in part comes from sharing the hardships I had endured as a child, and that is something I am thankful for.
Caught Between Cultures
When I was very young, about eight years old, I remember that I made a decision that affected my values and priorities. As an Asian American growing up in the 80s and 90s, I endured constant pressure to fit in and submit to mainstream norms. And by this, I don't mean just Whiteness, or American-ness. Unlike the rest of my Asian Americans peers, I refused to reject my Asian heritage. Unlike them, I did not grow up with internalized shame and self-hatred of my racial, ethnic, and cultural background. In that sense, I was very lucky. It is common for Asian Americans (AAs) to feel disconnected from their heritage, and to regret it during adulthood, when it is often too late to relearn or to pick up their language. I did not.
However, I did experience criticism toward my parents. First it started when other classmates told me that my parents were wrong for giving me "extra homework" outside of school. Other parents and teachers would also comment offhand that this was abusive. Since no child really wants to do extra work after school, I became used as a wedge between the faculty and my parents. For the rest of my time at school, my parents' attempts to raise me were constantly put down, undermined, and as a result I became both torn between wishing to defend my parents, but also wondering if my teachers were correct.
This conflict led to the several major depressive incidents, and led to a damaged parent-child relationship that could not be repaired until years later. It also damaged my future prospects, and limited the choices that I could make in terms of my interests and career paths. The lament, "Oh, if only I had done what they had told me to do back then," applies to me as well, in spite of the fact that I remained unscathed in other areas.
Choosing One or the Other
I believe that my teachers meant well, and had good intentions. However, I also never plan to repeat the mistakes they made: that is, creating a rift between parent and child. Mind you, my parents are certainly not perfect, and some of the things they did definitely fell under the category of abuse. But the way this abuse was addressed was different from the way it was addressed with white students. In addition to being told that my parents were abusive, there had definitely been an element of culture-shaming, a hint that my parents' abuse wasn't due to the fact that they were abusive, but because of the culture they sprang from. "This is America, so they need to learn to our ways," they would say. "In America, we consider that abuse." Unknowingly, my teachers had laid the boundary as a choice I had to make between Western and Eastern culture, one where I could not merely choose, but had to denounce over the other.
It wasn't until I got older that I realized that this boundary was artificial. I could, and still do, live in a
Recognizing that Culture is Fluid and Changes
Because of this, I am leery of statements that claim that, "Usually X culture does this," or "X culture does that." Having taught for ten years in diverse and international settings, I have learned that exceptions are more common than not. Instead I have learned to focus on individual traits and values as a way to understand students, their families, and their backgrounds. While I understand that patterns exist, patterns are guidelines, not set rules.
Strategies for Creating a Culturally Inclusive Classroom
This is why getting to know my students is so important, and aside from the usual icebreakers, self-assessments, and questionnaires, my main strategy is to recognize that there is no "normal." All too often, "normal" is another term for "status quo." If I want to create a classroom where minorities feel safe, this would need to be minimized. To that end, I attempt to subvert norms by exposing my students to as much diverse material as possible. I also challenge reactions of confusion or discuss by asking students why they are upset/disturbed/confused/intrigued/surprised by one idea, behavior, food, etc. The idea is to get students to question their own norms and beliefs. I include positive reinforcement by acknowledging the difficulty of what they're doing, and point out such behavior in class as something to emulate. I myself model this by questioning my own norms and beliefs.
This is especially possible in literature class, which is what I teach, simply by giving students a variety of texts written by authors from around the world. By ensuring that the narrative isn't coming from a single demographic, I try to impress upon my students that everybody's voices are valid. As an English teacher, even grammar can be taught inclusively, as I acknowledge different types of Englishes and accepted grammar forms, pointing out that even between native speakers, grammar can shift in change (Ex. American: "to the hospital" vs. British: "to hospital").
Another strategy I use actually occurs when I utilize Socratic Seminar, which while useful during discussions, is especially useful for teaching students to make personal connections, but it especially teaches other students to listen. The idea behind Socratic Seminars is that ultimately everybody has something valuable to share, as much as the teacher, which I reinforce by deliberately removing myself from class discussions.
But above all, I think what is most important is to show that I care for my students as individuals. Asking how they are doing, taking care to know their names (and especially to pronounce it correctly), remembering their backgrounds, likes and dislikes, and preferences. I reinforce this by individual conferences, which doubles not just as effective feedback, but as individual bonding moments. I demonstrate my willingness to learn by asking students to teach me things about their languages, cultures, and traditions, and make a point of remembering it (this comes especially useful in identifying the swear words of every language, just to prevent students from using it in my class). My curriculum schedule allows for space to accommodate derailments, which can happen when a side exploration or unanticipated discussion arises that I judge to be more important than the lesson/content I am teaching.
I think that in the end, it is less about the lessons I teach, and more about the students I come to care about. Instead of fretting over the fact that my students still don't understand setting, I care that my students spent the past week not being able to see their parents. I don't know if that can be called strategy, as caring cannot be feigned. I can only say that if you are unable to care about your students' well-being, the perhaps you should seek another career.
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