The majority of my grade school teachers were white. They never exposed their black students to the grim realities of slavery. They never told us of the mental, physical and emotional abuse the poor slaves suffered under the tyranny of their oppressive masters. In fact, they taught us that we were freed by the 14th President Abraham Lincoln.
As a child, I would look at pictures of old Abe's leathery face and revere him as the saviour of my race. Our white teachers taught us all about the great accomplishments of our white founding fathers and filled our hearts and minds with a sense of gratitude towards them. My teachers did not teach us about Reconstruction or of the white supremacist groups who terrorised blacks in the south to keep them in their place. We were taught to just say no to drugs but no one taught us about Jim Crow or black codes or what the war on drugs would mean to us.
As I look back I can understand how strange and awkward my white teachers must have felt trying to explain to their black students how slavery, segregation and hate permeated our past. Through their process of teaching us about the great advancements of the white man, subconsciously we were learning that we were inferior.
We were taught that Jesus is white, officer friendly is white, and all of the presidents were white. We were taught not to question the Bible and to that extent we were taught not to question the authority of white people. As I look back, I felt something was wrong indeed, however, my young mind could not even form the questions I most desperately need answers to concerning MY greatness and MY purpose in this world.
A teacher is an educator. An educator’s whole purpose is to bring out the great potential hidden within each of us. Education derives from the Latin word educare. Educare means to give intellectual, moral, and social instruction. I honor my teachers for trying, and they tried their very best, to bring out the best in me. #MY2CENTZ
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