Diversity and Room 106
By John Beineke
It will be 25 years ago this fall that I stepped into room 106 as a first year seventh-grade teacher. Although George Will and others have recently bemoaned the excesses of the 1960s - and excesses there were - the decade also produced its share of idealism and action. In the arena of public education, a group of urban educators, called by some the "Compassionate critics," gave voice to the needs of children and adolescents caught in impoverished environments. Jonathan Kozol, Herbert Kohl, and John Holt wrote eloquently of their experiences as inner-city teachers. Their stories inspired many of us to commit ourselves to teaching and making a difference.
My first school was not in New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles - but it was urban, it was diverse, and it was challenging. The rich racial diversity arose from a school population that included 40 percent African-Americans, several Hispanic students, and a few Native Americans. The school was located in a neighborhood that would now be labeled "in transition." As I walked the four blocks to school each day from my apartment, I observed first- hand the troubled settings in which our students spent their lives outside school. As teachers, we saw the aftermath of what occurred in those homes - bruised minds, bruised souls, and too often, bruised faces. But teachers were there to make a difference, including that lanky new fellow in room 106.
While the concept was certainly evident in both theory and practice, the term diversity was not in use at that time. Neither was pluralism, although multiculturalism was beginning to be discussed in a few of my graduate courses. Yet we knew that our school
Was diverse. Ideas around race, poverty, and class were raised in the teacher workrooms and in our faculty meetings. It also was the early days of special education. And yet our student population of over 900 students had only one teacher who worked with no more
Than 15 of our most severely disabled students. Those students not served in this special classroom were placed in our classes. But this, of course, was before mainstreaming became an accepted practice in educating the mentally, emotionally, and physically disabled student. The teacher in room 106 was learning that diversity took many forms.
The difficulties and frustrations in the lives of many of our students surfaced in a number of ways. While weapons and drugs were a rarity in our building, assaults and verbal abuse between students and toward teachers were not. The new teacher in room 106 was the recipient of both - and on one occasion received six stitches over his right eye. We knew that one deeply troubled young man was a teacher from Room 106 - then and now powder keg waiting to explode. Parent conferences, meetings with school
Counselors, and one-on-one sessions all came to naught. One day, after school, "Eddie" erupted in the room next door and I attempted to intervene. His anger was then turned toward me and the assistant principal who was passing by in the hallways witnessed the result. Expelled permanently, "Eddie" was eventually sent to some sort of group
Home in a neighboring state. I wonder whatever happened to him. But there were victories amidst the challenges. In the curriculum, our goal was to make school more relevant for the learner. In social studies we asked our students to creatively match their own solutions to the myriad of real-life problems they experienced every day. We set aside listing in order the presidents from Washington to Nixon and memorizing the seven major imports and exports of Chile. Instead we examined the issues of urban America and vicariously explored life in big-city settings, beyond our borders including
Mexico City, Bombay, and Nairobi.
We also studied the history and legacy of race relations in our country, even though my predecessor had received a letter from the KKK warning her to "lay off" the topic. One 16-millimeter film we used in room 106 was Bill Cosby's 1969 documentary Black History: Lost, Stolen, or Strayed? (Yes, I know that using 16millimeter films dates me, but age is diversity too.) It was a groundbreaking piece of work. Shirley Temple did not seem as cute when Cosby pointed out that she was made appealing at the expense of the dignity of the black actors that worked alongside her. And how, asked Cosby, were all those black inventors, explorers, and writers "lost" in the history books? Good question. The psychological damage of institutional racism was considered in the film, as were controversial storefront schools for black children which were appearing in New York and California. My memories of that film still instruct and enlighten me.
We were convinced that students had to be reached on a personal level. The now common practice of team-teach in a was in its infancy, but it provided my three
colleagues and me with the opportunity to apply flexible scheduling to meet the needs of the 125 students assigned to us. One example was the Friday afternoon "Quiz Game." The mathematics teacher had constructed eight wooden boxes with lights and buzzers for the two teams of four students each. The weekly "Quiz Game" was used to review the week's academic work. Mildly competitive, but not compulsory, almost all students chose to participate. They really seemed to enjoy getting on the stage of our ancient auditorium at the end of each week.
More importantly, such activities broke down barriers, allowing teachers the
opportunity to step outside their traditional classroom roles. Even the reserved teacher from room 106 was seen in a new light when it was his turn to become the "quizmaster." We also played basketball with the students after school, had in-school clubs once a
month, and took seriously a way, these were a few of the tools we used to enhance self-concept. Although nurturing self-esteem is an essential building block in creating community and celebrating diversity, it has increasingly become viewed as too soft and too anti-academic.
But we knew then, as we know now, that the emotional needs of children and adolescents must be met before any meaningful intellectual endeavors can be pursued. After all, we were aware of psychologist Kenneth Clark's research on the negative impact that segregation and racism had on learning among black children, Clark's testimony in Brown vs. the Board of Education, through the use of black dolls and white dolls, proved a decisive factor in that landmark decision. I hope that the students in room 106 not
only felt better about themselves, but learned something too. I think they did.
On a recent trip, I drove by the school where I spent five years of my life. From the street I could see the five basement windows of room 106. It had been years since I was in that building, but I had little trouble recreating in my mind the sight, the smell, the feel of that room. I wonder if a new teacher will enter room 106 this fall to begin a career in teaching? What will be the challenges and the successes? And what progress will that teacher be able to chart a quarter-century hence? I envy her - and I wish her well.