To Say or Not to Say the Word: Should it even be a question?

I got sucked into a huge Facebook discussion this afternoon. It all started when a teacher asked the question, "When reading out loud to the class and the n-word appears, do you say it or not?" 334 responses later, and I'm not sure whether the original poster's question has been answered or not. It seems like an innocuous question, right? Any teacher who has ever done a read-aloud has probably been faced with a word that made them pause and think, "Will I say this word?" But the answer here is not as simple as reading a hell, a damn, or even a fuck. There are words that come with their own emotional baggage, that are so heavily weighted with history and policy and society, that's there's not such a simple answer.

Ten years ago, before I was the teacher I am now, before Twitter and PLN's and social justice, I was that teacher. The one asking that question. We were preparing to read To Kill A Mockingbird, and I knew that the n-word was coming up in the chapter we'd be reading in class the next day. And I am ashamed to say that I didn't even give it that much thought. I had read every curse word that had come up so far, and I didn't see any difference in reading the n-word out loud from saying that Scout asked her uncle to "pass the damn ham, please," out loud.

Of course, as I had done with every word we'd encountered so far, I prefaced the read-aloud with a statement. "Now, remember, when an author writes a book, she does everything intentionally. So the use of a bad word here or there is meant to show us something as readers. In this chapter, the word is showing us something about the time period, and about this character. Your job, as the reader, is to figure out what the author wants us to see by using this language." It's the same speech that many, many teachers used as a justification in the Facebook thread. We have to talk about the language. We have to treat it as a reflection of the character, or of the time period. I agree with all of those things.

But the thing that I didn't realize then is that I was the one saying it. Me. Mrs. J. Their teacher. Their leader. The person they were supposed to trust to create a safe space for them. The one who was charged with treating all students with respect, realizing their potential and their worth, and speaking words of validation into their lives.

Right there, in front of all of them, allowing that filthy, horrible, disgusting word to roll off my tongue just like it was any other word.

I would never do that now, and I am profoundly sorry that I did it then. Other teachers wanted to hide behind the "let the students decide" argument. I teach in a school that is predominately white. Most of my classes have no more than 5 students of color. Letting the students decide is inviting white students to use their privilege over students of color. Because what SOC is going to speak up in the face of such overwhelming odds? I should never put them in a position where they feel they need to.

I am not in favor of censorship. I do not believe books that use the n-word (or any other word or slur, for that matter) should be pulled from shelves. I do not believe that offensive words should be purged from the books we give our students to read. Forgetting our history, or choosing to overlook the troubling parts, never did anything but create problems in the long run.

We need to have the discussion about that word, about the time period, about the character. But then we should allow the empty, resounding silence to speak its own language instead of allowing that vile word and all of its implications into our classroom. That word should never be heard from the teacher's mouth, because that makes it ours. If a student reads the words of an author, or the words of a character, on the page, then the words belong to that author. They belong to the character. They belong to the time period reflected.

The words you choose to say out loud belong to you. Choose wisely.   

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Slice of Life 1: When the World Hates You

The Gradeless Classroom: A Feedback Hack