Skip to main content

The Dying of the Light

Yesterday, on the last day of school before the Winter break, a high school student in Howard County was threatened and harassed for being Jewish. Yet again our schools cease to be a safe place for learning and growing and become the site of danger and humiliation. These are not merely the warning signs of bad things to come. These are, in themselves, the bad things. 

At this time of year when people of many faiths are lighting candles and looking for the light, we are seeing examples of profound darkness amongst our children. 

John Krownapple, HCPSS Director of Cultural Proficiency, has been working in our high schools this fall as a part of an initiative to amplify student voice. As he mentions in this tweet:

Students who believe their voice matters are 7x more likely to be academically motivated. Let's take action on what we're hearing from them.

Well, what are we hearing from them? Well, here is some of what Mr. Krownapple has been hearing:

Winter break reflection: how did we get here--many students saying they're not forming real relationships across race, class, & culture in school. Is it better or worse than the 90s? Are classrooms more or less integrated than then? If schools/classrooms are integrated, how inclusive are they? Are processes like group work and quality of relationships across differences collateral damage of standards movement and era of accountability? Thoughts and questions about public schools, diversity, inclusion, democracy, our past, and our future as we are wrapping up this calendar year. 

Our educational system has narrowed its push to grades and test scores. This has a price. You reap what you sow.

All of these incidents of hate and racism fly in the face of what many think of as the spirit of Columbia. (This is not to say they don't bother people in the rest of Howard County, but Columbia does have a mission of diversity and inclusion at its roots in a rather Public way.) I thought about Columbia, the planned community, the almost-utopian community, as I read this article by Katie V. Jones in the Howard County Times.

Exhibit tells the story of Jewish settlement 'Yazoor'

Her article recounts the fruition of research by the Howard County Historical Society into an early Jewish settlement in Ellicott City. Historian Dustin Linz 

learned that in the early 1900s, a small group of Russian Jewish immigrants settled along the Patapsco River in Howard County in a settlement they called Yazoor. The group's goal was to be self-sufficient by growing their own food and speaking only Yiddish. It lasted until 1935.
"The immigrants were not skilled at agriculture work and they had to hire farmers, who didn't speak Yiddish," Linz said. "The subsequent generations ... had no interest in carrying on the dreams of their parents. I didn't know it existed."
A sentence leaps out at me here.

The subsequent generations had no interest in carrying on the dreams of their parents.

The dream of Columbia, or the mission of One Howard, will someday be merely a file folder with some dusty newspaper clippings if our children have no interest in carrying out our dreams. What are we doing to enable our young people to be empowered to connect with those dreams? How are we making sure they can add their voices to that message?

We have the opportunity to have some serious conversations about this with our kids over whatever holidays we celebrate. Don't let that opportunity slip away.





Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Teacher Gifts

Today is the last day of school before the Winter Break. It’s a good time to remember the far-reaching nature of our public school system. You may not have children. You may have sent your children to independent schools. It matters not. You will be impacted one way or another. Yesterday I read a long thread on Facebook about several waves of illness in the schools right now. There’s influenza A and norovirus, I believe. And of course there’s COVID. Apparently in some individual schools the rate of illness is high enough for school admin to notify parents.  When I was little the acceptable holiday gift for a teacher was one of those lovely floral handkerchief squares. (I don’t know what it was for male teachers. They were rare in my elementary years.) These days the range of teacher gifts is wider and I have fond memories of Target gift cards which I have written about before. I think it’s safe to say that giving one’s teacher Influenza, norovirus, or COVID is not the ideal holiday...

They Can Wait

This is not a typical Saturday post. That’s because, in my community, it’s not a typical Saturday.  Oakland Mills High School, after years of deferred repair, needs massive renovation. It’s pretty simple: when you don’t fix a problem it gets bigger. The school system itself said the the OMHS school building was  "no longer conducive to learning" back in 2018.  2018 .  But Thursday the Boad of Education voted to push it out of the lineup of important projects which will be given the go-ahead to proceed soonest.  In my opinion it’s a terrible decision and sets a dangerous precedent. To explain, here’s the advocacy letter I sent in support of Oakland Mills High School. I was rather proud of it. I am writing to ask you to proceed with needed renovation at Oakland Mills High School in the most timely and comprehensive manner humanly possible. I have read the letter sent to you by the Oakland Mills Community Association and I am in complete agreement. You are extremel...

Columbia Chance Connection

  Last night, as my husband and I were about to sit down to dinner, our front door swung open and a cheery voice announced, “I’m ba—ack!”  We weren’t expecting anyone. Clearly the only people who’d walk right in to our house would be one of our offspring. I had my reading glasses on so I wasn’t seeing too clearly. It seemed too tall for our youngest, but we knew our eldest was at work. I took off my glasses to see a friendly but confused face scanning our living room. When her gaze landed on us we all had a sudden realization. We didn’t know eachother. “Oh I’m so sorry! I’m in the wrong house! My daughter just moved in and she needed hooks for the kitchen so I ran out to get them.” She waved the package. “All these houses look the same and I don’t know the neighborhood yet. I thought this was my daughter’s house.” We were all getting a bit giggly. “That’s okay. For a quick second we thought you were our daughter,” said my husband. I told her our names and said she should defin...