“So you’re calling us racists,” students accused.
I was starting to feel a little exasperated. “No, I’m not. I’m saying that you have created an image which suggests a racist stereotype.”
Earlier that afternoon, students were in the cafeteria busy finishing their decorations for our school’s Spirit Week in support of the winter athletes. The sophomores had decided to create an “urban street art” experience, dominated by a gigantic drawing of school pride. However, they began to add details—depictions of broken windows, chicken wire basketball hoops, shoes thrown over the rafters, police tape—that pushed the street art idea into what I felt was an uncomfortable depiction of racist and classist assumptions.
Calling over the students working on the project, I shared my concerns that though it had not been their intent, some of their choices contributed to a racist and classist stereotype.
“So we’re all racists?” became their refrain.
After much discussion, the student leaders agreed to remove or alter a few of the elements of their decorations.
The timing (the afternoon before decorations were due), the number of students, the cafeteria space, the on-going work all contributed to a muddled discussion. It ultimately left some students feeling that I had labeled them as “racists.” This had not been a pristine classroom seminar, but a messy encounter. It was not my intent. In hindsight, I understand that using the word racist shut down the conversation with students. I might have said “negative stereotype” and gotten better results. My goal was to diffuse the situation and create understanding. I missed it and instead created a barrier to conversation.
I wanted to examine the influences that led students to choose these images and explore other possible images. That’s the ideal when someone uses biased language or stereotypical images.
One of the greatest hindrances to our dialogue was that the students focused on their intent and not the impact of their image. They had worked diligently over many days to create a “cool” street art experience, far different than our suburban independent school.
I had to then focus on my intent and what impact my words had.
Maura Cullen, diversity trainer and author of 35 Dumb Things Well-Intended People Say, includes “Intent vs. Impact” as the first of ten core concepts necessary for people to have meaningful and respectful discussions of social justice and anti-bias work. She writes, “The first step in being willing to accept responsibility is to understand that even well-intended people can cause harm.”
My intent had been to make the best of the educational moment presented, to discuss the media influences that led my students to make these choices. Knowing these students, I didn’t want them to accidentally create something that would offend others. I wanted to prevent them from being called the very label that they thought I had given them,
Considering the impact of my words, there would have been a healthier discussion about the impact of the messages of the project.
Accepting responsibility devoid of one’s intent is a difficult cognitive leap, but, from this encounter, I realize it is a critical step necessary to engage in meaningful dialogue and make meaningful change in school culture.
Elliott is a high school English teacher in Texas.