The Personal Side of Bias, Prejudice, and Oppression

I shared some of this story in this week's discussion, but it resonates strongly with me, and I feel this post is an appropriate way to expand on this student's story and help me to come to terms with this oppression that I, regretfully, did not fight against as I should have.

One year a first grade boy (we will call him Joey, which of course is not his real name) who was quite smart, academically, started engaging in some alarming behaviors. He would choke his female friends if they talked to other boys. If he felt slighted in social contexts he would throw furniture. His behavior escalated within months of his first grade year, and soon he was isolated in the resource room with a staff member working 1:1 with him. He was not allowed on the playground or cafeteria. He soon shut down and quit doing academic work, which came easily to him. The administration frantically went about putting together the paperwork and documentation necessary to send him to the Emotional/Behavioral Disorder (EBD) program located at a different school.

Daily, I passed by Joey’s study carrel, where he always politely said hello. He enjoyed showing me the doll he kept hidden in his backpack. Ms. Jones (not her real name), the special education teacher of the room, and we would talk about Joey, as she was frustrated and looking for help about what to do with a bright boy with such severe aggression. Through our conversations I learned that dad was rarely in the picture, and mom felt in over her head, as he exhibited the same aggression at home. It would all start with getting dressed in the morning for school. Joey wanted to wear dresses (which he was allowed to in the evenings and on weekends) to school. He liked to play with dolls. A fellow teacher and I found an American Girls’ dolls website (he loved American Girls’ dolls) and we worked it out with his special education teacher that if Joey did his work he could play on the website. When the adminstration found out they told my fellow teacher and I to quit talking to Joey and stay out of it; he was being sent to the Emotionally/Behaviorally Disturbed (EBD) program because of his behavior. When I asked if anyone had talked to his mom about gender identity issues (getting to know him, he was clearly more comfortable dressing and playing “girl” roles) I was snapped at by the administration and shut out (usually I am a go-to person for difficult children, as my program has its share!)

In my opinion, Joey was clearly going through a gender identity crisis. He needed support and was closed off from any adults in the school setting that allowed him to be who he was most comfortable as. It was clear in observing interactions between him and the administrators that the men disapproved of him and thought he was just “acting up”. He was judged, and his true identity the victim of oppression. I still feel angry and hurt thinking about it. Angry, because Joey was a 6-year old boy who was being told to be ashamed of who he was. Angry that the adults in his life furthered his confusion. Hurt that the adults in his life were hurting him because they were uncomfortable with his differences and they let it show. This oppression denied Joey equal access to educational, behavioral, and emotional supports he needed. They could have partnered with Behavioral Human Resources to help connect Joey and his mother to a counselor. They could have allowed him the incentives and rewards that were truly inticing to him, instead of setting him up for failure.

For things to change, both administrators would need to come to terms with their perceived assumptions and their biases. They would need to be made aware of the negative impact their oppression has, and that what Joey was undergoing was not merely behavioral outbursts.

I regret to this day that I did not do more to help Joey. I was a new teacher; intimidated by the subtle punishments that could sometimes be dealt to staff that were not “yes” people. I know these are just excuses, and do not make up for my lack of advocacy. I see Joey every once in a while around district-wide events. He appears happy, and remembers me- he hugs me every time we see each other. I have since become a better advocate for my students, as Joey’s hurt serves as a reminder of what can happen when professionals stand by, and that to do nothing is not worth playing it “safe” when it comes to office “politics”.