Not Light, but Fire

by Matthew R. Kay

Students are not empowered; rather they are shown that their inherent power has been recognized—and that it matters. Well-crafted discussions build confidence, and confidence is sacred currency to students and teachers alike.

It is hard for a student to unlearn empathy, to forget discernment, to dismiss the importance of solid evidence once they’ve grown used to demanding it. This book acknowledges that if we are training the next generation of teachers, entertainers, lawyers, and politicians; if we are molding thoughtful citizens, wise counselors, and people of righteous passion; then our classrooms must be deliberate in their approach to conversations about race.

They are coming of age in a world of artfully disguised injustices, most of which will stay both invisible and vicious if people never learn how to meaningfully discuss them.

Students and teachers might spend their entire lives learning how to listen. It is one of our hardest self-improvement missions, and can be the most costly—ask family and relationship counselors.

Just as we cannot conjure safe spaces from midair, we should not expect the familial intimacy, vulnerability, and forgiveness needed for meaningful race conversations to emerge from traditional classroom relationships.

There, we practice three activities that I’ve seen build trust and community, so that conversations in our space are akin to house talk: Burn Five Minutes, Good News, and High-Grade Compliments.

Fifteen minutes of a Good News activity, once a week, is an investment of one hour per month. This hour of building a classroom community helps the students to celebrate the best of each other’s cultures. It lays the foundation of empathy that the heavier conversations depend on.

The difference between a high-grade compliment and a low- or medium-grade compliment is the focus on complimenting who you see a person as being—the best parts of that character my mom was always so concerned with building. A low-grade compliment might be something like, “I like that shirt,” or “Your hair looks nice.” Physical attributes, but still things that accessorize a person physically.

medium-grade compliment might be something like, “You have a nice smile,” or “You’ve got a great sense of humor.” Sometimes still physical attributes, but closer to who people are or who they present themselves as. A high-grade compliment says, “I see you. I appreciate you. And here are some of the reasons why.” (Chase 2011)

Here’s what the activity looks like: Once every few months, and before big holiday breaks, we dedicate twenty minutes to students’ giving each other high-grade compliments (see Figure 1.2). The first time any of my classes tries it, I describe the rationale that introduced this section, explaining how compliments benefit community building. I give concrete rules for complimenting, some of which I have students write on the board: 1. Proximity is important. I ask students to sit down across from the recipient, eye-to-eye. They may not stand over a seated classmate; their body language must communicate being equal and patient. I have them think about how, as younger children, they probably liked it when adults squatted down to their level to address them. Imagine a weary parent sitting in a daughter’s tiny chair for a tea party. At times, I mention my father, who, in his role as a deacon, often has to make hospital visits. He makes a point of never standing over someone, but always pulling up a chair and sitting as close to level as he can with his host. 2. Speak earnestly. A thoughtful compliment is strangely intimate, and to minimize this feeling, some students tend to fall back into the safety of teasing. For example, a student might say, “You always listen to me. Well, when you are not being a jerk.” In other settings, this would not be a problem—I assure students that teasing is my “love language.” During a high-grade compliment, however, the recipient may have made the...