‘Risky Texts’: Addressing the issue of race and historical marginalisation in the classroom

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By Sarah Ryan-Purcell

“I teach in an all-white classroom and so I don’t have any of your books in my classroom”

(Brooklyn Academy of Music Organisation, 2017).

As I listened to author Jacqueline Woodson share this quote from an unnamed educator during an interview on “difficult” subjects in young people’s literature, I felt exposed. I taught in an all-white classroom in Ireland last year. I don’t recall placing or using a single book by a Black author in my classroom. At the time, I might have reasoned – subconsciously – that such texts are more relevant in the American context. Suffice to say, I’ve come a long way. 

            My reading list is not the only thing that has changed since I commenced my Masters in Literacy Education at West Chester University, Pennsylvania. I have developed a whole new perspective on how knowledge is constructed, whose voices are represented, and what it means to prepare our students to participate in a diverse, yet unequal, world.

            I discovered Woodson’s picture books in the first semester of my Master’s program as Dr. Daris McInnis challenged us to select a ‘risky text’ which we could use as a read-aloud opportunity to engage in critical literacy with our students. I chose Mason’s (2010) These Hands, an intergenerational book in which a young boy named Joseph learns how his grandfather united with fellow Black labourers to protest racism in the workplace. Thanks to their actions, Joseph’s hands – and other hands the same colour as his – can do “anything in this whole wide world”! The choice felt risky, particularly for me. Since arriving to America, I have felt discomfort when discussing race with BIPOC students. I imagine that the students might be thinking, “Who does she think she is, teaching us about something she knows nothing about?”. However, over the past few months, I have learned to embrace this vulnerability. By allowing the students to see me learning alongside them, I shift the classroom dynamic. Authority becomes shared and knowledge becomes co-constructed. Enter: critical literacy.

            I started the read-aloud with a guided discussion of the front cover, using visual thinking strategies (VTS, 2021). One child excitedly exclaimed, “my skin!” as she pointed to the boy on the front cover of the book. Another student remarked that the boy’s skin colour would probably be a significant aspect of the storyline because “it always is”.

That comment lingered with me.

            Why is race “always” central when Black characters appear? Why are there so few books where Black children are simply present—neither celebrated nor victimized, but existing as fully realized protagonists? The answer, no doubt, lies in power. Perhaps an increase in publications of such books would mitigate the sense of ‘otherness’ that is still apparent in today’s society.      I was particularly uncomfortable discussing the contents of the fifth page, as I wondered aloud why the grandfather had not been allowed to mix the dough in the Wonder Bread factory. The students, though young, were keenly aware that this was a restriction placed on Black people by their white employers. At this point, we began to discuss instances of power in the story. Most of the students participating in this read-aloud were Black, and I felt a sense of guilt on the part of white people for the injustice represented in the story. The students readily noted that white people wouldn’t eat bread baked by a Black person, even if the Black workers were allowed to bake it. I felt almost as though I was further oppressing them as I prompted them to consider why white people wouldn’t eat bread baked by a Black person. They concluded that white people believed Black people ‘had germs’ and would ‘make them sick’. The students were not only offering their opinions. They were engaging in interdisciplinary meaning-making, drawing connections between history, social studies, and personal knowledge. Upon reflection, I realize the impact of that discussion in helping these students to own their history and learn about the oppression of their relatives in the not-so-distant past. However, in the moment, I felt as though I was unearthing generational trauma.  

            Our read-aloud session was an embodiment of critical literacy as the students interrogated historical social practices and analyzed dynamics of power in society (Lewison et al., 2008). However, one important aspect was absent from our discussion: taking initial actions to promote social justice. Consequently, my next step is to consider how I might develop this standalone read-aloud lesson into a critical literacy unit plan on racism and workplace discrimination. Racism is not simply a topic to be covered, but rather anti-racism and inclusion are values to be instilled across the curriculum, values which the students can uphold beyond their formal education. In reflecting upon this read-aloud, I am prompted to identify ways through which I could support my students to “disrupt the commonplace” and promote social justice in small but meaningful ways (Lewison et al., 2008, p.9). This is a question I do not yet have an answer to, but I shall pursue the answer across my career. 

            In conclusion, engagement with this risky text read-aloud challenged me to step out of my comfort zone as a teacher. By leaning into discomfort and allowing students’ voices to guide our discussion, I witnessed the power of risky texts to illuminate social injustices, leading students to connect historical oppression with contemporary realities. This experience has demonstrated that teaching about race and inequality is not simply a “nice to have” in the curriculum but is rather a moral necessity. As a result, I am committed to creating spaces where all students, particularly those from marginalized communities, feel valued and empowered to challenge the status quo. 

            I have come to understand that what is not in the classroom library can often tell you more about the classroom environment than what is available for reading. Furthermore, when educators embed dimensions of critical literacy into their classroom practice, they not only nurture critical thinkers but rather empower both themselves and their students to be agents of change. 

References

Brooklyn Academy of Music Organisation (2017, June 21). Jacqueline Woodson on “difficult” subjects in young people’s literature. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcRwYLHcyzc

Lewison, M., Leland, C., & Harste, J. C. (2008). Creating critical classrooms: K-8 reading and writing with an edge. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Mason, M. (2010) These hands. Haughton Mifflin Harcourt.

Visual Thinking Strategies (2021) VTS, available: https://vtshome.org [accessed 03 May 2021].

Sarah Ryan-Purcell is a passionate primary school teacher from Cork, Ireland. Having obtained a B. Ed. in Education and Psychology at Mary Immaculate College, Limerick, Sarah is now pursuing a M. Ed. in Literacy Education at West Chester University, Pennsylvania where she is also working as a graduate assistant in the College of Education and Social Work. A proponent of discovery-based learning, Sarah loves to explore new countries, languages, and cultures, increasingly allowing these experiences to guide her classroom practice.

Doing History, Not Memorizing It: Using Historical Thinking to Reclaim Black Narratives

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by Dr. Shari Revels-Davis

Growing up, history class always felt like a timeline of dates, names, and events to memorize. Textbooks presented historical accounts as settled truth—rarely revealing that history is constructed through sources, perspectives, and power.

When Black history is taught this way, students often receive a simplified version of complex struggles and resistance movements, stripped of grassroots voices and community leadership. History books also record only the story of the oppressor, not that of the oppressed. For example, Ron DeSantis, the current governor of Florida, stated in his defense of the presentation of slavery in the history books, as well as annexing the AP Black History high school courses and eliminating other courses that are considered “DEI” by the white population.

DeSantis defended Florida’s 2023 Black history standards, which included a requirement to teach that “slaves developed skills which, in some instances, could be applied for their personal benefit”. He argued that this clause, which suggests some enslaved people used their skills to their advantage, was intended to highlight the “resiliency” of Black Americans and was written by scholars.

Instead of taking the oppressor’s word on how historical events occurred, disciplinary literacy shifts history instruction from memorization to investigation.

By engaging in the authentic practices of historians, students learn to question narratives, analyze evidence, and uncover stories that have long been marginalized or erased.

The Discipline Lens: How Historians Build Knowledge

Historians do not simply read for information. They:

  • Source documents to understand who created them and why
  • Corroborate multiple perspectives
  • Contextualize events within social and political systems
  • Examine bias and purpose

These skills are essential for understanding Black history purposefully and honestly.

The Problem with Textbook Narratives

Traditional historical texts often:

  • Emphasize major political leaders over community organizers
  • Minimize systemic racism in favor of “progress narratives.”
  • Frame resistance as isolated moments rather than sustained movements

For example, the Civil Rights Movement is often portrayed as a few peaceful protests led by famous figures, while ignoring decades of organizing, youth activism, and local leadership.

So what does this look like in practice? Instead of replacing the textbook, we can place it in conversation with other voices. A primary source counterstory investigation allows students to analyze whose perspectives are centered—and whose are absent.

Classroom Strategy: Primary Source Counterstory Investigation

Step 1: Provide a textbook account of a historical event (e.g., voting rights, desegregation, Reconstruction)

Step 2: Pair it with primary sources such as:

  • Black newspapers
  • speeches
  • letters
  • oral histories
  • photographs

Step 3: Students analyze using inquiry prompts:

  • Who created this source?
  • What perspective is represented?
  • What details are emphasized or omitted?
  • How does power shape this narrative?

Step 4: Students construct a revised historical account that includes multiple voices.

Student Impact

Teachers I work with report that inquiry-based history instruction leads to:

  • Deeper comprehension of historical causation
  • Increased engagement
  • Stronger argument writing
  • Greater awareness of systemic injustice

Students move from passive consumers of information to critical interpreters of the past.

Concluding Thoughts

History is not neutral. It is shaped by the voices we amplify and the ones we overlook. When we present historical struggles like the Civil Rights Movement as a handful of peaceful protests led by a few famous figures, we unintentionally flatten decades of organizing, youth activism, and local leadership into a simplified storyline. Our students deserve more than a highlight reel.

As educators, we have the opportunity—and responsibility—to complicate the narrative. By inviting students to examine primary sources, question dominant accounts, and seek out counterstories, we teach them that history is not something to read and forget but something to investigate and explore. We help them see that change is collective, contested, and ongoing.

Doing history in this way builds more than content knowledge. It builds critical thinkers who understand that whose story is told matters—and that they, too, are part of the historical record in the making.

Shari Revels-Davis is a dedicated and experienced educator passionate about multilingual learning and educational equity. As a veteran teacher, she has made significant contributions to the field of education, particularly in supporting multilingual learners (MLL). In addition to her work as an MLL teacher for the Chester County School District, she is the founder of the Hiram Revels East Educational Foundation, which focuses on advancing educational opportunities for diverse student populations.

Shari is currently waiting to be conferred her doctoral dissertation from Jackson State University after earning two master’s degrees. In addition, she is working to fulfill her goal of opening her own boarding school for underprivileged students in Las Cruces, New Mexico.