Teaching

I feel enormous shame for a particular moment of my career as an educator. I was running an academic after school program in a Boston public high school. One afternoon, I sat down with a student who was struggling with grades and attendance. I didn’t know the student well, but we had a basic rapport. I asked what his plan was for getting back on track. He looked at his hands, at the floor, at the walls — anywhere but at me. I told him he was smart and capable, but this was a crucial moment as a 16 year old to make a firm commitment to take responsibility for his learning. He left my office and didn’t come back to school for a few days.

I failed that student. I challenged him to take responsibility for his learning with no knowledge of the support he needed to do that effectively. I didn’t know anything about his family, his friends, his daily life. I didn’t know about his mental health, his passions, his fears. As a White educator, I would never truly understand how being a young African American man shaped his sense of self and relationship with the world. I failed to recognize the weight of that reality and how my race gave my every word potential to oppress. I called a student to take responsibility for his learning at the same time I disregarded my responsibility to support him as a learner and person.

-- Robin Pendoley, "Owning the Responsibility for Learning"