I grew up in West Central Minnesota and then lived in the Twin Cities for many years. My family (my husband and three children) and I moved back to this rural west central community about two and half years ago.

My son attended a school this past year that was noted recently in our local paper to have one of the very lowest scores in the state. This wasn’t a surprise for several reasons, but especially because upon moving here, several people from this community  warned us about the school district, stating that the minorities at the school were making it impossible for their kids to learn because of their struggle with the language and other cultural differences. These people felt that the minority students were taking up too much class time as a result of these differences.

Our fears in hearing so many people talk about this weren’t related to what you might expect. We have a good understanding of No Child Left Behind and the ever-increasing budget crisis that our country’s schools are facing. We knew better than to blame the minorities in our community for the state of the schools. We could see the much bigger picture. We could see that even if someone started school while struggling with English, they may actually be making great progress that can’t be reflected because of the way our testing must be done. In fact, much of the time, they are improving at the same rate as an English speaking child, but the test results are such that this fact is not reflected. We also had no issues this past school year with our son getting limited attention in the classroom. This was not a concern because it appeared to us that each child was receiving what was needed. Therefore, our fear was related to the increasing tensions in the community and the schools–in the way blame is so often shifted to hate and returned with fear and anxiety and sometimes more hate.

It is so much easier to place blame on someone–a particular group of people–who are different from you, be that politically or religiously or ethnically. It is a natural yet unfortunate response to even look for these differences, and then highlight them and exaggerate them in an effort to feel a sense of control and superiority. The reality in our situation is that our son had a great year. He had an excellent teacher and everyone on the staff that we encountered were smart, helpful, energetic and kind employees of the school. We also–surprising to many–appreciated the diversity of our son’s classroom.

Yes. When we were planning to move here, we saw having a multicultural community and classrooms as postive things. We continued to feel this way after our son’s first year in the school came to an end. In the past two years we’ve felt very alone in that perspective.

I grew up here. I know the majority of people here hold fast to their roots, to allegiance to this country, to hard work and family. I am a part of that and I appreciate that I grew up in this place. I am a Scandinavian white girl with generations of farmers and postmen and contractors before her. I am a woman who loves her own hard work and family largely because this is the beautiful place she experienced childhood. I also believe that I had it pretty easy as a kid. I never wanted for shelter or food or clothing. This naturally gave me a confidence that I consider a privilege–to not live needing more than I had to survive and to feel very undifferent from my peers.

All that said, when our schools recently received their low scores and the superintendent was quoted saying,”The white kids are doing great” and then went on to say that “we need to get the other communities interested in education” it pained me, and I believe it should have. It smacked of racism like a slap and hung over my head like the passive aggressive response that it was. These were statements obviously made to be sure to point out that the opinion is that the Hispanics and Somalians and other minorities in our schools are the problem, not the system. Even if these words were taken back later or taken out of context before being published in the paper, there is no denying there is an underlying and also obvious opinion in our community that’s held even by the leader of our school district. It’s a stereotype and it’s wrong. I won’t deny that a few of the superintendent’s words in the paper were good to see–that the school will rise to the challenge and do its best to bring those scores up–but I would like to have seen that said without finger-pointing as a means to escape a negative reputation.

:::::

I have a friend who worked in the early childhood ESL program. She has experience with the families (communities) that the superintendent was accusing of a lack of interest in education. My friend stated that she has never seen parents as invested in their children’s ability to learn as the parents she worked with. They wanted their kids to know English and checked in frequently with teachers to learn more about their children’s progress. Of course, just as not every white child could possibly be doing great, not every minority child is doing great either. There are roadblocks and challenges in every community–the difficulty for the educational system serving all children is not about one class or group or community or ethnicity. It is about a broken and broke system that has trouble meeting unique needs no matter what they are.

Every day this year when I would pick up my son from school, I would spend time in the parking lot and hallways with the parents of minority students. I quickly learned that many of my smiles were not easily returned and I didn’t take this personally. I understood it. I guess I’d be hesitant about me too. I’ve already recognized and admitted I’m a privileged girl and privilege often makes people feel first and better and proud and that’s intimidating and frustrating. I strive not to be any of those things and my fear is that if we are those things in response to the diversity in our community,  they will wear off on our children, creating even more racial tensions at school, especially as our children get older and form more stubborn opinions that replicate the ones they’ve been taught.

:::::

As I have the honor of getting to know each of my children, I look at them and I hope that they will continue to love the way they do now. I see it in them, the propensity to do just that–the lack of judgment, the limited need they have to feel superior and the way they seem so free of the assumption that if someone is different from them, they are obviously somehow wrong. I have wanted them to hold on to this beautiful unconditional thing that they came into this world owning. This is one of the things we are passionate about our children learning in this life. Of course, we want them to read well and get good test scores and maybe even play a sport really well. And we want them to follow the rules and maybe get the blue ribbon at the science fair and first place at the spelling bee. But more, so much more, we want them to know that the world does not revolve around them. We want them to never, not once, assume that they are superior because they are two white men and a white woman. We want them to live a life of compassion with a heart of service and if they are already receiving the message, in elementary school, that another people group is at fault for low scores or all the messes in the hall or all the bad behavior, we will be raising people who will never have the capacity to live in a way that honors faith, hope or love–that chooses to take responsibility instead of placing blame and to see themselves as the same as other people, no matter who those people are, how they live, what they believe or where they came from. After all, these differences do not threaten who we are, forcing us to change. We can make the choice to allow diversity to live vibrantly around us without turning it over to find the so often contrived dark underbelly we fear and too often flee.

When my kids head off to school, I want them to know that the reality is that the “white kids” make messes and behave badly and get low test scores too. That each and every individual in this city and beyond is unique, with positive qualities and gifts and defects of character and the potential for mistakes, just like myself and themselves.

In the schools right here, our children have this opportunity to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around them. That not every face is similar to theirs and not every culture has the same values and traditions. They have this chance to learn from that and not step out one day beyond these city limits in shock. They have a chance to gleen wisdom and broaden their horizons and embrace differences and I imagine things would run more smoothly if we could all do that–we grown up big kids too–in everything from our schools to our businesses and our churches.

But, for the most part, we have chosen division. We have chosen to point fingers and place blame and to love less. I have heard the hard-working, church affiliated men and women of this community say awful, hateful and judgmental things about the people living around them–things I would never want my kids to hear. So no, I wouldn’t pull my child out of his school because I fear that his non-caucasian friends are ruining his education. If we ever did decide to take our children out to homeschool or otherwise it would be because we fear they’re getting the message in both subtle and overt ways that the minorities in the school should not be accepted.

What we’ve seen in the last two and a half years of living here, for the most part, is a desire for the way of life here to always stay as it once was–our city and our schools and businesses run by white men with white students and customers. But the last thing my husband and I want our children to learn is that life should be easy, free of challenges or changes, and if it is not, it is the fault of someone else. We can’t have them learn that because neither is true. Life is always both good and hard, only at times smooth and easy and constantly gives us the chance to learn from its changing tides.

Perhaps we need to let go of the idea that if someone has come our way for work and therefore lives among us, they are somehow here to wrong us. Maybe it isn’t about us…maybe it isn’t about you. Maybe this is life, the ebb and flow of change. Maybe how we adjust and respond to that is either teaching our children to love or it is not. Perhaps it’s best not to fight these changes or even to simply tolerate our discomfort, but rather, maybe this is about embracing change. Maybe we can learn from it and allow it to broaden our limited understanding of what it means to be human.

{If you were to visit my  main blog, The Extraordinary Ordinary, you would learn quickly that I don’t normally write about controversial things. But sometimes a girl needs to speak up when she feels led to speak up. I humbly ask that you keep your comments kind and respectful, even if you disagree with me. Thank you.}