Gentle Teaching

I didn't understand why gentle parenting was a thing until I decided to do gentle teaching. I have noticed such a different reaction to how my students behaved from when i cater to their needs instead of just yelling. I had a student that KEPT getting up from her seat and I kept telling her to sit the first few classes. Finally I walked up calmly and asked why she kept getting up and she told me that her and two other girls were sharing one pencil. She told me she felt left out in the lesson because she couldn't even write them. My heart just broke for this perfectly good reason for moving but because she was just a "rowdy" kid she was ignored. Kids are humans too. They feel embarrassed and ashamed. She needed a helping hand not a slave master. I want to set my kids up for success because education is a right not a privilege. So I never yell. No matter how bad they get (which is really never. They are such good kids) I just talk to them. I share how I feel and if they agree we move on and if they don't we talk about it. A good relationship is what I want to build and I am doing it gently.

Identity: African or Africa?

One of my favorite things about teaching children is their endless lines of questions. Usually, they bring me joy to share about a world so different than theirs, but one day I was accosted by a question I never expected.

"Madam? Why do you say your a black? Aren't you white?"

My look of shock didn't do justice to show how appalled I was about that question. Though I laughed it off and pointed at my skin as a counterpoint, I realized something more alarming. The physical representation of my body outweighed the mental concept of my culture to others. African-American. White, black people. How is that possible? But it was so realistic in the kids' minds just because of the place I was born.

On my way home, I spoke with friends about the question and just how confused and combative the child was as I tried to convince them that we were fundamentally the same. I started to explain that seven generations ago, 4 Africans were sold off and had children, then four more Africans, then more Africans. In-between, my story was interrupted by the sick and forced intrusion of European blood in my line, but it does not cancel out all the Africans who came before me.

In my heated explanation, I had a lightbulb brighten in my head.

I am and will always be African.

Though my tribes are mixed with my people, my ancestors have prevailed to create their tribe. My tribe is black, and I am from the sold generation of Africans who survived and persisted in having a chance to return to their homeland.

It is such a whitewash of our heritage to separate our lineage because of distance. We have been taught to separate ourselves from our origins, to believe that we are the other or apart. We are Africans born away from home. We have adapted and survived to live in a world not made for us, but we shouldn't forget the world that was.

There are millions of people who see us as family. But we have turned a blind eye. Open your mind to the possibility that somewhere, somehow, you belong wholeheartedly. Your loudness is welcome, your strong will is praised, and your ambition is nurtured and supported. What would you do if you knew you were a part of some amazing?

You have always been the sold and missing part of Africa.
Own it. It's your birthright.