We Need More “Us” at School
By Hadiya Qazi
“And that concludes our presentations on major influences in history! It was so great to explore such a wide range of people, from George Washington to Audrey Hepburn to Steve Jobs!” Mrs.Hemingshire announced to her third grade class. “Now please take out your test folders and make your cubicles, I will be passing out the math quiz now.”
Jawwad groaned. It was hard enough that he had to sit through a morning’s worth of presentations on people that, despite him agreeing were important, he just couldn’t come to appreciate himself. It didn’t help that he couldn’t see his face in any of them; nor hear his language, or recognize the country of his parents listed in relation to them.
After receiving his paper, he looked at the first question: Johnny and Mary have 16 apples and want to split it with their friends Chad and Sarah. How many apples will each friend get?” Again, Jawwad couldn’t help but let a slight sound of annoyance slip at the question. He might be a division wizard, but he would never divide amongst people with names like him, or the other nonwhite students in the class. With a final sigh, Jawwad continued on to his paper.
For a land that both capitalizes on, and popularizes its “melting pot” conglomerate society of all races and marginalities, America lacks diversity and representation in its education sphere. This problem manifests itself not only in a lack of books with diverse characters or in failing to honor colored people of importance, but even in things as seemingly mundane as the names used in an elementary school math question. It seems a small act, but the repeated use of white, heteronormative scenarios in the education system is exclusive and has long term effects.
Taking a trip to any public school, from K-12, might offer a unique look into the various shades and ethnicities America does in fact protect and honor — and yet, a single look into the curriculum reveals that while everyone might be attending school, not everyone is represented in the school’s teachings and materials.
Despite our false understanding of widespread change, such as renaming Columbus Day to Indigenous People’s Day and patting ourselves on the back for the bare minimum, we still have a long way to go in making sure schools and their curriculum can be an accurate measure for the experience of the student body at large . While these changes were monumental, they are but small steps on a great path of necessary improvement. There’s a need to push past performative action in education and move towards implementation of policy, such as required reading drawing from a wider pool of backgrounds. In fact, the school I work at is a great example of positive kid-change; upon learning about the reality of our history with the native people of the land, they decided to rename the school, formerly William T. Harris, to Sarah J. Garnett. This move came because Willy was then proven to be discriminatory and blatantly disrespectful, a stain not needed to mark a school. Again, the name change is an improvement, a recognition by organizations and boards of violence past, but room for tangible improvements beyond a change in recognition remains. Changing a sign at the school is a quick fix, but making an actual difference takes real strides of inclusion and change of what’s being taught inside of the school — regardless of name.
Inclusion is vital for a child, in order to keep them engaged and far from isolation — but also to teach the basics of a functioning society and how to depend on each other. It might seem like some subjects, like math, that this inclusion isn’t necessary.After all, 2+2=4 no matter what language or whose hand writes it. But in fact, in constructing exculpatory, even superficial, statements and problems, we subtly condition our kids to feel as though certain subjects elude them, or are otherwise barred from their inclusion. Even in social psychology the effect of internalized stereotypes and feelings of inferiority bleed heavily into social interactions. These negative interactions could have been avoided if students had been given the proper tools to take pride in their identities, even in simple measures.
Kids cannot properly be prepared to meet the world on their feet unless they are well informed about everyone in the shared world; prejudice and bias are often formed at younger ages, when misguidance can breed these attitudes. This is why it is absolutely crucial to implement change starting at the younger level to foster a society of future empathizers and well rounded people.
Children need the reflection of diversity in school, especially in this growing age of social interaction. Exposure to diverse perspectives and experiences promotes empathy between children, fostering a place of understanding and community. By allowing students not only to visibly see their marginalities, but that of their peers, they are better equipped to critically think and analyze different viewpoints and narratives. The best age group to witness this change is the primary level; children learn more from their environment before consolidating into peer groups and formulating set, often discriminatory, attitudes.
Literature and Art are both spheres that demand the expression and inclusion of everyone. Simply explaining existence does not validate it, especially for children, who are still finding themselves in their crucial age.
The demand for more representation in the media children consume during their education as well as in the literature they read is actually a conceivable desire and is working to evoke tangible progress If you had asked five-year old me, if she would ever see a brown, hijabi character, whether in school books, fantasy books, even a historical or contemporary figure who looked like me, she’d probably cry and think you were being mean to her. This would still hold true at ten.
However, today there is beginning to be more POC representation in children’s media, which is something to celebrate. Now, working directly at a school, I am amazed at the amount of empathy the 5th graders I work with hold for diverse figures in and outside their own races and ethnicities. While my generation too had “Black History Month” and “Women’s History Month,” the school system provided meager information about the purpose and figures of excellence during either month.There would be Martin Luther King poster up during Black History Month and perhaps a Amelia Earhart image up for Women’s History Month. To put it briefly, it was an underwhelming and highly non educational experience; these were more social phenomena and checklist items.
Things are different for the students I teach Now, not only were the months observed, but they were celebrated; and the cast of characters expanded beyond the typical examples. For example, alongside Rosa Parks, who by no means is diminished in this discussion we had contemporary and “lesser-known” amazing people; Mamie Till, James Baldwin, even Beyonce and Idris Elba. And women’s history month celebrated women of all backgrounds — Amelia Earhart and Malala stood proudly on my student’s showcase besides women like Zaha Hadid and Maryam Faruqi.
And the efforts to expand inclusion spans beyond what is taught; accessible reading is a right, and school libraries are making an effort to diversify as well. Some new authors that I discovered include Terri Libemson and Torrey Maldonado, who expertly present both consumable and representative stories that relate shared experiences for kids of all backgrounds, and yet also acts as support for minority groups and as lessons for the majority.
When I was growing up, seeing representation in the media was a privilege, a reward; and now, positively, it is slowly becoming a norm. Celebrating every culture is vital for our successes as humans, and this celebration begins in the education sphere. By proposing change in representative literature and even representative testing, we can foster a caring and open community; we can foster hope for an equitable future.
Ibn Jawwad walks into his class on the morning of the Women’s History month presentation nervous that his chosen dignified lady was someone only he had heard of. He knew that people tended to know the same women veterans in all these occasions, and he was even asked to present on Malala; the school thought he might enjoy it. They were shocked when they found out he didn’t want to, and more furious when his reasoning was that she was an “exhausted” example of what woman could do. Not to say he thought she was exhausted, only that her propagation seemed like an attempt at overshadowing other heroes who might be honored too.
Ibn Jawwad stepped to the podium silently, gulping as he raised his arms to cup the mic and speak about his chosen person. Maryam Faruqi might not have crossed the Delaware or flown across the Atlantic, but she pioneered education in Pakistan. She was, as his sister would say, a girlboss. He concluded his presentation and was moving towards his seat when he heard a small clap pull out in the audience. And then a thunder applause.
“A shame it took them this many years to appreciate that which was always there. But a great honor, a great mercy indeed, that they were able to start now.”
Ibn Jawwad only sat in his seat dutifully, with a small pride on his face, and attended to his homework.
“Chi, David, Ajen, Juan, and Noor have 18 gold carrots and they want to distribute it evenly amongst them, and then donate the rest to a non-profit. How many are left over to give to the nonprofit?”