(Reflection of Christopher Russo, Assistant Superintendent in Portland and Reynolds and currently the Director of the American School of Asuncion, Paraguay.)
The link above is to a publication where I was interviewed during a racial equity conference (TWP--Teaching with Purpose) put on by a fellow colleague, Karanja Nouruba Crews. Mr. Crews had been running this conference (for several years in the local PDX area) and by the 2013 had garnered a significant following not only from the area but from around the country. His work greatly influenced the immediacy of the equity work happening in PDX at the time.
I was honored when he had asked if I would share a story during one of the sessions, a story regarding my time serving as a principal in an inner city school.
Watching what is happening at home in the US has made me think of the young man about whom I had been interviewed--wondering now what he was doing. Wondering whether he was protesting. Wondering--I guess just wondering...
This young man was one of those classic stories of a child who had it stacked against him but who was brilliant and reflective and clearly there could be another path if the systematic barriers were removed or lessened. He didn't trust many but for some reason he offered his trust to me--it's not that we didn't have disagreements but we mutually respected each other even in our differences.
Working late, he used to stop by my office after sports practice to hang out. Sometimes we would chat about nothing, sometimes about his day, and sometimes it was just cool for him to hang out without saying a word. I guess it was safe for him. As I told it in the article, there was one day he came in to my office in a different space, and if I had thought about it, I would have acknowledged what came next really had been building up. I remember his look. I remember vividly his anger...
"I don't like the way the teachers look at me, he said." This caught me completely off guard. I mean, I thought we had a solid relationship. Surely he knew I cared. I mean, after all he spent most of his afterschool days in my office or nearby.
"Sir,' he said, "I don't like the way the teachers and the school looks at me." he grew quiet. "Like I'm trouble and that's all I'll ever be."
I responded, somewhat selfishly. "Do I make you feel this way?"
He said, "no, you don't make me feel 'small' but the teachers (he named a couple) make me feel like I'm a thug and like I'm stupid or something." He continued, "I mean, they work for you, right? You're the principal of the school. Can't you make them stop?"
I remember that conversation stopped me in my tracks--I viewed myself as an ally, as a proponent of leveling the playing field yet here in my own back yard, my own school, he didn't feel welcome. It was a transformational moment, and one that broke my heart.
I often think of that conversation and if I hadn't had it, if he hadn't graced me with his thoughts and trust, my practice may have remained static--or I may not have been able to see what was happening in my own school. He and all his courage prompted me to have several difficult conversations with staff, to search for new training, try new ideas, admit fault--to rethink our school's approach to supporting our kids, mainly children of color.
Every interaction, no matter how small or how difficult, can facilitate change--if only we listen. He reinforced that for me. We need to listen more... When sometimes I feel the urge to respond, and perhaps not listen as I should, I think of this young man in my office and that impact it had not only on me for but for the school. All because he chose to trust me.
Yes, all lives matter--calling out the lives of our most vulnerable (like this young black boy) doesn't negate the value of all life. That, to be clear, was never the intent of the statement--to negate or devalue all lives. If one's house is on fire in the neighborhood, we don't hose the entire neighborhood down. We put the fire out of our neighbor whom we love and with whom we empathize. As consequence we protect the entire cul de sac...
This is a graphic that expresses the same sentiment.
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