No Bright Lines

I heard a story today about a teacher in our building who was so frustrated with one of his classes that he changed his seating chart so that all the disruptive kids were in the back. He told them why they were there-- they were obviously more interested in talking and socializing than in learning, and he was tired of competing with them. Therefore, the students who were serious about the subject were in front, where he could focus on them. The seat assignments were made strictly on class behavior, but the students complained to another adult in the school that all the black kids were in the back of the room, and sure enough, when that person went to check, that's how it was.

The teacher, who is white, said he never even noticed any racial component to the new seating arrangement, and the black students admitted that they were inappropriately talkative in his class. Obviously, this is a case where it might be easy to start tossing accusations back and forth, but it is also a situation that, to an educator, might seem easy to fix. Put the disruptive kids in front, we might suggest to the teacher. Pay more attention in class, we would say to the kids, followed by, Your education is important, you know.

I was a little appalled by this story, even though I empathized with the teacher's frustration. And it was that idea of frustration that reminded me of something that happened in one of my own classes just last week. Every Monday, my students have an assignment that involves answering some questions in writing about their independent reading book in order to prepare for a short small-group discussion. The groups are heterogeneous, because I think that each student has something of value to contribute. On this particular day, it seemed like there were a couple of students in each group who were really dragging their heels on getting the written part done, and so they were holding up the discussion. Impulsively, I decided to reorganize the groups to put all the slower-working kids together, so that the other students would have more time for their conversation.

In less than a minute, the kids had moved, and three groups were talking, and one was still writing. I went over there. They knew, as did the other students, that the reason I had re-organized everyone was because they weren't finished. Whatever I said to them was a mixture of encouragement and urgency, and for the most part, they responded, hurrying to get their work done so that they could begin their discussion and earn their points.

I went off to check on the other groups, but, keeping that teacher's eye on everybody, it wasn't long before I looked across the room at those students, and for the first time, I saw who they were: two boys who were going through the special ed referral process, a girl with obvious attention issues, another girl who was new to our school system and whom we were finding to have some big gaps in her skills and knowledge, and another girl whose dad is fighting Stage IV cancer. All were kids of color.

I don't know what it all means. As teachers, we group and regroup students all the time, based on many factors. It's called, "Best Practices". I do know this: both of these stories make me uncomfortable, and I'm going to keep thinking about them.