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].