There’s the Mardi Gras tradition of baking a tiny baby doll into a cake, serving it up, seeing who gets the slice with the good luck charm. The key is, everybody knows beforehand to eat with care. If you don’t…
In my state, a law was passed in 2021 banning the discussion of “divisive concepts” in the classroom. The ban applies primarily to issues of gender and racism. The repercussions for teachers are grave: if they’re accused of breaking the ban, they are taken before the state Board of Education and risk losing their credentials.
The wording in the law is opaque, so it’s not clear what, exactly, a “divisive concept” or an illegal foray into one is.
Politics are certainly divisive, especially right now (the understatement of my lifetime). It’s almost impossible to discuss current politics in a measured way with anyone, anywhere, at any point in time. To teachers add the pressure of real punishment, loss of income, vulnerability to attack for addressing a divisive issue that might come under the purview of this new law.
I’m not surprised politics isn’t discussed much in school. Nonetheless, it comes out. (With so much pressure behind it, how could it not?) In towns that are predominantly red or blue, it might come out as a backstage whisper everyone in the classroom hears. It might catch some kids off guard.
There’s the Mardi Gras tradition of baking a tiny baby doll into a cake, serving it up, seeing who gets the slice with the good luck charm. The key is, everybody knows beforehand to eat with care. In a classroom of kids whose parents predominantly adhere to one party, a teacher might make an off-hand, critical comment about the opposing party. The teacher is letting off some steam to a captive audience. Teacher might even believe they’re solidifying a cause, playing a part in a resistance. Listen, I happen to agree this is a precarious moment in democracy. I would probably do the same. With most kids, the comment lands well; these kids probably hear it from their parents at dinner on the regular. However, there might be one or two kids whose parents vote the other way. These are the kids who break a tooth on the baby in the cake.
What they hear, in the teacher’s comments and in their classmates general approval, is that they’re special in a bad way. It feels like bad luck. They’re on the outs. They wouldn’t dare reveal themselves as disagreeing with the general political swing. They might feel they can’t even disagree on a meta-level: they can’t wish out loud that they could discuss politics without the criticism, without the insider opinions.
They might be turned off by the tone and go wanting, silently, for facts.
I’m a fan of facts on all levels. I would much, much rather you tell me where you stand than ghost me, for instance. That said, don’t actively try to hurt me. Politics can be hurtful; it can be fact-based. I’m not saying there should be no discussion of politics in the classroom. Not at all. What I wish, honestly, is that kids could talk politics freely–fact-based–although that’s a pipe dream, at this point. In it’s place I would wish for all kids that they walked into classrooms for facts from a respected adult (a mentor, even), not guarding themselves against being excluded.
I wish that, if a teacher dares talk about something political for 30 seconds–and that’s what it feels like, these days, a dare to wade in–that they share a nugget of truth, not a jab.
