The Harlem Renaissance and January 6

A teacher's view...

It was 7th hour…the last hour of the day. I was waiting outside my classroom, as I often did, monitoring the hallway and wondering if I could make it up to the restroom in the three minutes left in passing time.

I hated using the bathroom at school because we didn’t have separate spaces for students and teachers. I never wanted to use the bathroom when my students were in there. It felt unprofessional, or like too much information. I often didn’t have time to get to the bathroom and back to my class anyway, so I usually didn’t drink anything after 11 am.

Debating dehydration or a UTI is a common game teachers play.

It was January 6th, 2021, and we were just back from winter break. The bell rang, and I went to my desk to take attendance. My Department Head poked his head into my classroom and told me to turn on the news. Oh, god. I knew it couldn’t be good if he walked down to tell me that, but I had no idea what I’d see.

What I did see was horrifying. I saw men climbing the Capitol walls and tear gas and flags and anarchy. I couldn’t look away, but I also had a class waiting on me.

Supporters of President Donald Trump climb the west wall of the the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021. Jose Luis Magana / AP

I always started my Harlem Renaissance unit in January, and I needed to catch the kids up. They needed to understand the Gilded and Jazz Ages, WWI, the 19th Amendment, Flappers, and Prohibition. I was not a History teacher, but a Literature teacher; however, the two subjects were intertwined throughout my American Lit course. I don’t know how you can pull one from the other. Literature needs context.

In the Harlem Renaissance unit, my students learned about alienation and racism. They learned about an economic boom followed by the Great Depression. They read Langston Hughes and James Weldon and Claude McKay. They read Zora Neal Hurston. They understood that the Harlem Renaissance could not have happened without the Great Migration and then went even further back to remember that both things were born out of Black resistance to racism, Black Codes, the KKK, and segregation.

Below, McKay discusses the problematic nature of America through the eyes of a Black immigrant.

America

Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,

And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth,

Stealing my breath of life, I will confess

I love this cultured hell that tests my youth.

Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,

Giving me strength erect against her hate,

Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.

Yet, as a rebel fronts a king in state,

I stand within her walls with not a shred

Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.

Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,

And see her might and granite wonders there,

Beneath the touch of Time’s unerring hand,

Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.

-Claude McKay

My Lit classes generally began with a few minutes of silent reading. Through the years, I realized the kids would read if the time was built in. The beginning of class was a time to relax, read silently, and get ready for the lesson.

January 6 was no different in that respect. As my students read, I watched my computer on mute. I was heartbroken — for my country and my students sitting in front of me.

What would I say when I started class?

I told them the truth. I told them the US Capitol was under attack. They asked by whom? Again, I told them the truth. By Americans.

My students wanted me to turn on the news, but I decided against it, fearing they may see something they would never be able to unsee. I am of the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster generation, and I was always overly-careful about what they saw in my classroom.

I don’t remember how much 7th hour accomplished that day, but I’d say it was minimal. I think we talked about what our country was experiencing…the division.

I had a hard time not walking back to my computer to see what was happening.

I remember the last bell ringing, and within a few minutes, my Department Head was back in my room — my friend who taught 9th grade English came in too. I turned on my projector and we witnessed what we would later find out was the moment the insurrectionists entered the building. We sat frozen and silent. We knew by watching the flags being used as weapons, that we were watching democracy hanging by a thread.

I was not surprised when I received an email from the Superintendent of Schools that evening about the attempted coup and insurrection. But, you will be surprised by what she said. She said unless we taught History or Government, we should not speak on the events that happened just hours before. She cautioned History teachers as well, telling them to tread lightly.

I was angry. I couldn’t believe that we had just lived through an insurrection and my administrator was telling every teacher in the district to not speak on it. I was no fan of my Superintendent, but when I thought on the matter a little more, I decided she may have been at least partially right in that email. Here’s why…

The teacher down the hall.

I taught with a teacher who collected Kleenexes for extra credit at the beginning of the year — I mean, we are in Missouri and we are ranked 49th in educational funding, so we gave extra credit for a lot of items that should have been paid for by the school.

This particular teacher decided to make an activity out of the Kleenex collection. Yay! I love an extra learning opportunity, but this one went south…quickly. I saw a copy of the activity. The teacher down the hall was building “Trump’s wall” out of Kleenex boxes in her classroom.

That activity might strike you as insane, and I would agree, but I taught in a very red town in a ruby-red state. The activity didn’t seem to ruffle any feathers. I had been questioned about teaching the “liberal” Henry David Thoreau, while she was building a wall with no resistance. I shit you not.

Teachers didn’t talk about the insurrection the day after. Some likely couldn’t be trusted to keep their politics out of it, but the day after that? Or a week later? Surely, there will be lessons soon? Surely, we will have a path forward with a message for students? Surely we won’t stay mute and let narratives take hold that aren’t true and aren’t up to our mission of educating kids? Surely?

Nope. I am hopeful that a few teachers broached the subject, though.

I gave my resignation that February. I had decided to run for office, and you can’t hold office and continue to teach in Missouri. My Principal had also been upfront and asked if I planned to continue to teach next year, as in all likelihood, I would lose the race.

I couldn’t…the fact that I was running as a Democrat would be too divisive. Parents would pull their kids from my classes, and that would be difficult when I was the only American Lit teacher. It would cause chaos and kids can’t learn in chaos.

Teaching was my life. I loved my 16 years in the classroom. Folks often ask me, “Do you miss it?”

I miss the teaching — I don’t miss the grading. Or some of the parents. Or some of my administrators. Or the pitiful pay. Or the wall-building colleague.

And, there is something about what I do now that feels akin to teaching. I get to travel the country and have audiences wanting to hear what I have to say. I get to tell others about Democrats running everywhere— running on every ballot in every state. Even the red ones.

I also don’t have to temper my activism, or stay silent when extremists attack my country through rhetoric or legislation.

Or attempted coups.

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

Excerpt: Let America be America Again

-Langston Hughes

~Jess