Current Events

Curriculum Disputes, Reading Lists, and More Books by White Guys

Last Monday, a committee in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho recommended Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck be removed from the ninth grade general reading list to the small-group reading list.

The four committee members who feel the book should be removed from required reading shared their reasons with the Spokesman-Review:

  • Profanity: use of words like “bastard” and “God damn.” One committee member counted the profanities–102 profanities in its 110 pages.
  • Negativity and darkness: committee members found the story too “negative.” This next bit I’ll just quote directly from the article:

The book is of high literary quality, committee member Eugene Marano said, and he’s not so bothered by the coarse language. But the gloomy tone gives him pause, especially the bleak ending.

“I thought it was too dark for ninth-graders,” said Marano, a retired Kootenai County magistrate judge. “It needs to be in a small group to explain away the dark part of it.”

The Boise Weekly did a little digging and found the approved books for large and small group instruction for ninth grade in the Coeur d’Alene school district:

Current approved titles on the ninth grade whole group reading list are “Romeo & Juliet,” Animal Farm, Great Expectations and The House on Mango Street. Titles on the small group reading list include Go Ask Alice, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and The Odyssey.

Here’s what I have gleaned from this reporting, the above books that have not been challenged, and my knowledge of those texts: The Great Depression is too bleak, but teen suicide (as told by Shakespeare) and teen drug use and suicide (as told by an LDS Idaho writer in the form of a cautionary tale) are not. While small group novels have more challenging or intense content, the committee appears to be under the assumption that this pedagogical strategy is used to “explain away” the bleakness, negativity, or challenging nature of the text, rather than to dig into, discuss, analyze, synthesize, or reflect upon it. The ad hoc committee and school board need to have this point clarified. Immediately.

That covers my response to the coverage thus far. Now I get to the heart of the matter.

While I appreciate the articles by both the Spokesman-Review and the Boise-Weekly, I am not satisfied by the depth of their research. In thirty minutes of searching, I downloaded Coeur d’Alene School District’s Approved Novels list for grades 6 through 9. The district website says the document was last updated December 2014; the document itself states September 2013. I went through each title for each grade; as an educator, a member of the greater Idaho community, and a part of the growing consciousness of how a “safe” canon has diminished our ability to engage in critical thought, I am very troubled by what I find, both in terms of the content itself, and how our framing of it limits students.

Banning and challenging books is anachronistic and counter-productive. Last year, the Meridian, Idaho, school district banned the book The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie. The American Library Association named it the most-challenged book of 2014. The ALA “condemns censorship and works to ensure free access to information,” and “promotes the freedom to read.” Banning books does not protect students from ideas. Choosing to challenge a novel, when students have access to the the entire world of information in their pockets, demonstrates an archaic understanding of the purpose of education and the sharing of information. Finally, after the ban of the Alexie novel, interest in the book increased, and instead of it simply appearing on a supplemental reading list, every student was provided a copy of the novel. For free.

The committee does not understand ninth grade students. Fourteen-year-old students, even in conservative northern Idaho, have heard the words “bastard” and “damn.” They have heard the Lord’s name taken in vain. They have used those words, and worse. Reading them, in a piece of literature meant to reflect the experiences of migrant workers during the Great Depression, will not scandalize them. Furthermore, if eighth-grade students can handle the required text of The Diary of Anne Frank, which also has a bleak ending, they can handle Of Mice and Men, provided they have a competent teacher who guides them through the process–which they do. It was the Great Depression; it did not have a happy ending for the nation’s poor, and hiding that is insulting to the history and to the students. Committee: trust your teachers, trust your students.

In 2015, the book list is populated with predominantly white male authors. This begs the question: why are we arguing about a book written by a dead white guy? Of the approved titles on the Whole Group Reading List (and I am including the required titles and choice lists), almost 70% are written by white men. Several of them are repeats of the same author; there are two (TWO!) other novels by Steinbeck on the approved novels list. I’m going to break this down some more, because this is the most problematic piece of the issue.

  • In grade 9, a teacher may elect for the class to read The Miracle Worker, which is based on Helen Keller’s autobiography, but is not the autobiography itself. As an educator of the Deaf, I cannot tell you how many times I have encountered individuals whose entire concept of deafness is based not on Keller’s words, but on someone else’s adaptation of them. This is part of a pattern of books that address the topic of disability that are written by able-bodied authors: Freak the Mighty (grade 7), and two books from the grade 9 Small Group list, Stoner and Spaz, and Stuck in Neutral.
  • The Grade 11 list has left me irate. In the entire canon of American Literature, out of the 11 titles selected for the approved novel list, there is one novel written by a woman. ONE. Where are women like Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Harriet Beacher Stowe, Willa Cather, or Louisa May Alcott?
  • Again, Grade 11: Eleven novels, two Authors of Color. Frederick Douglass’ autobiography is on the list, as well as Thousand Pieces of Gold, by Ruthanne Lum McCunn. The selection of two biographies on a list that also features classic works of fiction is an easy way to make sure the list pays lip service to diversity without tackling broader systems of inequality. This is unacceptable. On the entire 6th-12th grade list of 73 titles, there are only seven titles written by People of Color: 3 African-American, 1 African, 1 Latina, 1 Chinese-American, 1 Japanese-American. There are other novels that address topics of racism, segregation, and diversity, but these are written by white authors who do not represent the Black (or Latino, or Native) literary community. As I was working on this blog post, a video surfaced of the principal of TNT Academy in Georgia making racially charged remarks at graduation. A Twitter conversation turned toward colorblind pedagogy, and everything clicked about this entire book challenge (tweet embedded with permission):

This is what a legacy of systemic silencing and supremacy looks like. This is where it starts: narrowing our students’ access to books based on our archaic definitions of whether a novel is “a quality story [or] a page turner.” Arguing about the word “bastard” and whether the Great Depression is too depressing, instead of challenging our state’s entrenched biases. The person who successfully challenged Alexie’s novel last spring claimed a semi-autobiographical novel written by a Native American that described his experiences of racism when he left the reservation was, by definition, a racist novel. We are seeing the damage wrought by decades of failing to engage students with literary voices outside the approved canon.

Advertisements

Under the Bus

I’m going to cut right to the chase, for the first time in the history of my overly verbose soul.

sComm press release:

sComm Co-Founder and CEO, Jason Curry Issues Statement Regarding Communication Options for Deaf, hard of Hearing, and Hearing

Raytown, MO, April 9, 2015: sComm today released a statement regarding their commitment of enhancing communication options for the deaf, hard of hearing and hearing.

As CEO and Co-Founder of sComm, I would like to reaffirm our commitment to enhancing the ability of deaf, hard of hearing, and hearing people to interact with each other freely without barriers. A heartfelt and sincere apology to both the deaf, hard of hearing, and interpreting community for unapproved posts made by one of our new media staff. We are taking steps to assure it won’t happen again. It was never our intention to offend anyone.

As a part of the deaf, hard of hearing, and hearing community, we are working to ensure that our overall philosophy is properly represented, both internally and externally. We advocate all communication options which utilize the use of VRS, VRI, on-site interpreters and in combination with communication devices like the UbiDuo to maximize communication and timely interaction for everyone. In our 10 years of experience in the communication device field, this combination of communication methods has generated overwhelming success stories from people who are deaf, hard of hearing, and hearing.

We support communication options to maximize communication freedom and to help everyone live a full and satisfying life.

Curry threw a new staffer under the bus. That’s bad PR and bad business. It’s also dishonest, since the “Communicaphobia” video (and the ableist “crippled” language used therein) dates from several years ago. Curry is responsible for that, and when he issued that press release, the video was still active.

Curry threw a staffer under the bus. I don’t condone the action, but I understand the instinct. The minute I read it, my counseling bells dinged. I don’t know Jason Curry. I don’t know his history, his family, his experiences. I do know the heart-stopping panic, the debilitating anxiety, the soul-crushing self-doubt that sets in when I am challenged. When something I believe to be right and true and correct is held up as wrong or incorrect. The depression that looms overhead the instant my eyes are opened to the stark reality that I completely, totally, and in all other ways royally screwed the pooch.

Something I’ve been tackling in counseling is my fear of authority figures, my fear of angry people, and my fear of personal criticism. I also isolate myself when I anticipate one of those things on the horizon. Watching this sComm situation unfold is like watching old Danielle in a tailspin. Criticism –> anger –> silence –> carefully constructed deflection.

It took a lot of energy to keep my brain fired up like that. It takes a lot of energy to for me to step back, breathe, and own my mistakes, too. But my attempts at Shut up and repent quickly seem to cut the cycle off a lot sooner, and it’s amazing how the anxiety and the fear and a doom lift when I just. stop. Stop denying. Stop deflecting. Stop casting blame. Stop making excuses, passing the buck, controlling the narrative. Put on the gosh darn brakes and for the love of mother do not run over whomever it was I just threw under that bus.

Sometimes in business, in activism, in feminism, in relationships, in ally-ship, in recovery… in life… 

just. stop.

Audism, Language, and Competition

Content note: audism, ableism, in-group discrimination, disability hierarchies 

The Deaf-world controversy surrounding sComm and their marketing of the UbiDuo communication device continues this week. Trudy Suggs (the Deaf business owner and activist who has been the catalyst/gathering place/clearinghouse/springboard/etc. for the pushback against sComm’s dangerous, audist marketing language) shared last week that her hosting company received notice from sComm indicating that she had made unauthorized use of their property, even though the screenshots she used fall under fair use.

The Missouri Association of the Deaf issued an open letter:

There is so much to unpack here, and I am waiting to see what else comes out, specifically from sComm. So far, their attempt to use legal threats by contacting Trudy Suggs’ hosting company directly, instead of addressing her first, is a power play. Is it the male/female power dynamic? Is it the English/ASL power dynamic? Is it competing business owners? Is it (in Jason Curry’s eyes) good deaf/bad deaf? It’s likely an intersection of more than one of those. The more layers intersect, the more complex the power dynamics become.

UPDATE: 6:56 PM 4/7/15
From a former sComm employee, shared on Facebook today.


Here in deaf school land, we have an academic bowl, sponsored by Gallaudet University. Our school has participated for the last 8 or 9 years, but only recently have we really been a competitive team by any definition of the word. Last year was the first time we made it out of the regional competition to go to nationals.

Last week our academic bowl team did a presentation on their trip to the regional competition, as well as a few “mini-bowl” contests with students from the elementary, middle, and high school departments. Two of my kiddos were in the elementary mini-bowl, and they had a really good time. As we got into the middle school and high school groups, though, another teacher and I started to question the underlying assumptions of the entire system. I’m used to questioning systems–that’s how I roll. It was nice to have someone else with whom I could share my eyebrow-furrowing, head-scratching, table-pounding moments:

  • In academic bowl form, answers must be hand-written, spelled correctly, and shown to the judges and spectators. One middle school student got every answer incorrect; while the event was meant to be lighthearted and not a high-pressure situation, how does it benefit a student to have every incorrect answer shown to all and snickered at? Why did the adults laugh? How is that a positive experience?
  • At the national level, the same schools win, or at least make it to the final rounds. It feels like a pecking order, and each year’s competition is an exercise in making sure everyone knows what that pecking order is.
  • States with large populations have larger schools for the deaf; it makes sense. These schools have strong Deaf communities surrounding them, and many of them wind up sending many students to Gallaudet. They have a large pool of students from which to choose their academic bowl teams. This is not, in and of itself, a bad thing. But issues of power and privilege come in to play–they always do. Is this where the idea of good deaf/bad deaf starts? Is this where we start weeding out the successful deaf from those that perpetuate the oft-quoted statistic that the average deaf adult has a fourth-grade reading level? I understand the desire to recognize and applaud academic achievements–but what does it mean when we’re recognizing the same achievements by the same few achievers each year?
  • Why are we still so fixated on competitions, when it’s becoming more and more evident that collaboration is going to be the necessary skill to solve the big problems of the century?
  • I have a friend with two deaf sons. When their first son was identified as deaf over 20 years ago, they moved to be near a deaf school. He attended that school, but he never belonged. Their family never belonged. As autistic deaf child with significant behavior concerns, he wasn’t the right kind of deaf; at least that’s how the message was received. Disability hierarchies were at play. Is that a form of audism, to exclude those deaf and hard-of-hearing who don’t fit in to one’s preferred vision of d/Deafness? To encourage a parent to withdraw their child from the school for the deaf because he doesn’t really belong there? Where does that idea begin?

The students on our academic bowl team are primarily hard-of-hearing, or prefer English over ASL. Why is that? The last few years, we’ve pulled kids from our outreach program to supplement our on-campus team. Why is that? My experience is limited, as I am “grafted on” to the Deaf community. But I have seen audism play out. I have seen unspoken disability hierarchies form the foundation for interactions and decisions and systems around me. And I have seen far too much of it go completely unquestioned.

It’s time to start asking questions.

Internalized Audism

Content note: ableism, audism, communication access, disability rights, ADA, institutionalized oppression

Back in February, Congressman Glenn Grothman, R-WI, encouraged his constituents to pry into the lives of citizens on government assistance. From an article in The Northwestern:

Grothman said he hears stories about seemingly able-bodied people receiving disability payments, Social Security payments and Food Share benefits. He told the people in attendance to keep an eye on the types of things people on Food Share buy at the grocery store or ask people for more information if they boast about being on disability.

“I would argue some people are arranging their life to be on Food Share,” Grothman said. “You just look at them and kind of wonder.”

I know that The Undeserving Poor is a standard in the conservative legislative playbook. I know the idea of Proving Disability is something those with both visible and invisible disabilities encounter all the time. I’ve heard it a hundred times, but never before in the context of actually asking constituents to pry into the lives of others. That was a new one.

It reminded me of conversations I’ve had with Deaf friends and colleagues. The internalized ableism against “those deaf” who get benefits expressed by those who do not. It causes me to step back and analyze how my position within a formal institution may perpetuate those perspectives.

You see, years back, I had a group of students who were primarily hard-of-hearing. Down the hall was a group of students who were primarily deaf. They were not grouped by hearing levels, but by academic need. One group worked at a faster pace closer to grade level; the other group required more targeted intervention at a slower pace with more repetition. But do you know how the kids saw this grouping? They saw the deaf students as less intelligent, and the hard-of-hearing students as more academic, as having the superior language access.

Of course, we didn’t know that at the time. And those students would not have been able to verbalize those perceptions and attitudes as fifth-graders. Those students are in high school now. And all of their teachers are Deaf. And we have a serious problem with attitudes rooted in internalized audism among the middle school and high school students, not just toward students, but toward teachers. Refusing to use sign language, insulting their teachers’ language use. Power and privilege of hearing status, loud and clear (literally).

People who are culturally Deaf embrace their language and their heritage and their culture. American Sign Language, growing up in a Deaf school, finding peers with that common experience… these things are crucial for developing that Deaf identity. Growing up with a deficit model of deafness, a deficit model of any disability? The internalized ableism can be damaging, and not just for the individual. I saw a vivid illustration of that this weekend.

Not every deaf person grows up with Deaf (cultural) identity. Many deaf people grow up oral, or with signed English, or in a mainstreamed school setting, or with any number of accommodations or adaptations to their hearing loss that their family decides is the best route for their child at the time. Some of these children grow into adults who find Deaf culture. Some of them do not.

sComm is a communications company with a face-to-face typing device called the UbiDuo that could be sold as an option for accessible communication for the deaf. However, they are marketing it with very dangerous language as a replacement for sign language interpreters in hospitals, emergency rooms, and even in the court systems for child abuse cases. In the process, the deaf business owner, Jason Curry, has repeatedly belittled ASL, interpreters, and the Deaf community by calling ASL a simplistic language and crippled communication (he actually used the word crippled). The language surrounding his marketing, his defense of his remarks, and his YouTube videos dating back to 2012 illustrate a high level of internalized audism (that is, oppression of the deaf). His audism does not only affect himself, though. The marketing of his device would have huge ramifications if hospitals purchased it in lieu of maintaining contracts with trained and certified interpreter services. People would die.

The Deaf community has responded swiftly, with reminders not to belittle Curry’s signing (he uses manually coded English, which some members of the community were belittling when his response video was first released). I am following this pretty closely, and I will pretty much only be posting links to the Deaf business owners and activists doing the leg work on this. This is their show. But it is important for me to listen, and to listen hard. Because this has ramifications for my work and my classroom. Because what I do here with fifth graders impacts what happens in the high school. And our high school students leave and become Deaf adults. And the last thing we want to do is to add more power to the patriarchy.

Women, Sex, and Cars (Part II)

Content Note: sexual assault in the news, rape culture, sexism, misogyny, sexual symbolism

My blog post about buying a car was only going to be one blog post. But as often happens with conversations, it begets further conversation. Which springs forth into further reflection, deconstruction, reconstruction, keyboard smashing, synthesis.

And today I read about Patricia, the most recent in a group of over 30 women who have come forward to accuse Bill Cosby of sexual assault, and between comments on that story, and conversations and comments on my first post about buying my car, I’m up to my earholes in rape culture and power dynamics. So here’s the alternate title to this post:

How I Learned to Drive a Stick (that’s what she said)

Right off the bat, I am going to issue this clarification: at no point am I issuing an indictment of individual persons, with the exception of Bill Cosby. It’s pretty clear he’s guilty of some horrible acts against women. My other commentary is “aimed up” at the culture and systems and not “aimed down” at the people forced to navigate the resulting marginalization.

When I bought my car, I left feeling adequate. I felt not completely empowered, but not disempowered either. I left with enough of my autonomy intact to feel I had done a good job negotiating and purchasing my car, my first big ticket item since my divorce. A discussion happened among some women acquaintances about our experiences buying and servicing cars. We were split into two groups: those who had been traumatized, ripped off, or otherwise dehumanized, and those who had survived mostly unscathed. Those in the latter group cited strategies for the successes: bringing a male partner to the dealership, doing extra research, choosing a female salesperson, calling a male friend on the phone for back-up. A few of the women in the latter group made suggestions to the women in the former group for a more positive experience next time: Seek out a saleswoman, or Well, I know to bring a man with me.

My problem isn’t that these women gave these suggestions, but that the automotive culture is such that this conversation exists at all. Why do we have to “know to bring a man”? Why should buying a car feel like reporting a sexual assault on a college campus (a lived experience a friend of mine used during the aforementioned conversation)?

Why did all of this remind me of the “how to avoid getting raped” college presentations for freshman women?

The same society that produced our current rape culture produced the boys’ club that is the automotive show room.

When I got my butt grabbed at the Old Broadway in Fargo, there were those who might have told me to take it as a compliment. When someone touched me unexpectedly and without my consent and called me sweetheart at the car dealership, one of my friends did tell me to take it as a compliment. Neither of these is a compliment; both of these are about power.

Salespeople generally assume that women don’t know anything about cars. Legislators generally assume that women don’t know anything about what constitutes sexual assault, too.

I’ve been writing about my car a lot on my personal Facebook page. I’m sure some people are looking forward to the end of my overly emotional good-bye to my car. But it’s my narrative. I get to decide when to move on.

I know some people are tired of how drawn out the Bill Cosby story has become. The allegations first came to light in a 2005 civil case and were effectively silenced in 2006. This latest viral resurgence of victims stepping forward began in October 2014; to date over 30 women have publicly accused him of drugging and assaulting them, seven of whom are from the 2005 civil case. As far as Hollywood news is concerned, this story seems like it has gone on forever.

But this isn’t just Hollywood news. And five months is nothing compared to years of silence and internalized shame. You want the media to move on? This isn’t your narrative. This isn’t Cosby’s narrative, either. Finally–yes, finally–this narrative belongs to the women. The women who felt partially responsible for their own assaults. The ones who looked up to a man as a mentor, only to have that power used against them.

The statute of limitations has passed on these cases. This isn’t about going to court, or getting money. This is about power. And from where I sit (and I could be wrong), it’s not even about the victims/survivors getting power over Cosby, but about getting some of their power back.

When I was in rehearsals for How I Learned to Drive, the hardest scene for me was the hotel room scene, when Li’l Bit finally confronts her uncle for the years of inappropriate interactions and abuse of power and “grooming” that led up to that night, her 18th birthday. Li’l Bit runs through a huge range of emotions, and anger is one of them. I am still learning how to let myself experience my own anger, so portraying such a raw and visceral emotion on stage was challenging. The director could see my struggle because, let’s face it, I was sucking. She told me that scene was for the women who never got to face their abusers, and that I needed to be angry for them. I didn’t want that burden, really, and I don’t mean to imply that I fixed the abuse of the world by performing that role for three nights in July. But that was what I needed to hear, as part of my own journey as Danielle and as Li’l Bit.

I got good and angry. Li’l Bit took her power back. Everything is about power.

And if you think it isn’t about power, ask yourself this question: Why are there people who express more worry for Cosby’s legacy than they do for the damaged lives of these 30+ women?

Unconfirmed

Content note: trans persons in the media

I am not a trans activist. I do not claim to know enough about the trans community. Thusly, I will be brief and stick to what I know at present: language. I’m shooting for roughly 350 words.

Yesterday the New York Times ran an article: The Transition of Bruce Jenner: A Shock to Some, Visible to All  (I used a proxy so the NYT will not log a page hit from you).

The blurb reminded us “he has not confirmed it.” Several paragraphs in, I read, “Advocates for transgender issues declined in interviews to discuss specifics about Mr. Jenner’s situation, saying that until he announces what is going on, it is wrong to make any assumptions.”

This reminds me of the ridiculousness of the episode of This American Life about “Batman”: include a single, passing statement wherein a source calls you out for your previous line of reporting to before moving along with your reporting.

If a person has not come out as trans, there is no article about their transition.

I don’t care if the rest of the article is a good “think piece.” If the first third of the article is premised upon speculation and tabloid journalism, the last two-thirds do not redeem the piece. If the NYT cared about the trans community, it would run a piece on the trans community without linking it to click bait. As it is written, the article is just one more that commodifies the presumed gender identity of a celebrity.

My closing thoughts come from tumblr:

I don’t care that media and tabloid coverage has suddenly become more serious and respectful because of reporting that Bruce Jenner might be transitioning.

Gaining some sort of confirmation (confirmation will only come from Bruce until then, let’s shut up about it) does not mean that the tabloid reports were not transmisogynistic and hateful in the first place. Because they were. They’re a prime example of how anyone who defies gender norms, but particularly those who are feminine-presenting, will always be the subject of ridicule and violence.

American Snippet

Content warning: contains racist slurs, swears, and expressions of hate

American Sniper is a movie based on a book that includes proven lies. Under typical circumstances, I would not waste my breath, my keystrokes, or my brain cells on it.

These are not typical circumstances.

In the last six weeks, I have been unfriended by no fewer than a dozen people on Facebook for engaging in “anti-military rhetoric” on my timeline. Whoop-de-doo. I lose friends all the time, usually acquaintances who are shocked when I speak up about something with which they disagree. While it’s no secret to most of my friends that I am non-violent and regularly engage in conversation regarding alternatives to war and violence, I guess people were surprised that I was vocal about my disgust with the hero worship of Chris Kyle and his self-aggrandizing book-turned-movie. And I was surprised that my criticism for a movie garnered sexist, racist vitriol, militaristic one-liners, misunderstandings of the word slander, and suggestions to stand in front of a spray of bullets.

Actually, I wasn’t surprised.

Last things first: I don’t generally use the word pacifist because most people misinterpret it as a passive choice. I am a non-violent activist. It may become my job to stand in the way of violence, between the oppressor and the oppressed. So when someone says, If you don’t stand behind the military, feel free to stand in front of them, chances are there may be a time I may be faced with such an option (I mean, this is one of my favorite books…). Saying this to me doesn’t make me rethink my position, but it makes the person saying it look simplistic and cruel.

I focus a lot of my blog posts on intersectional feminism in K-12 education. That’s the setting in which I work. It’s the focus of my masters program. It’s where I see myself working for the foreseeable future. So how does American Sniper fit in? It fits because of Benvolio.

Benvolio is not Benvolio’s real name. But there is a student whose family moved here from Iraq in 2008, and he is my Benvolio in Romeo & Juliet this year. He is, quite possibly, the brightest student I have ever had the pleasure to teach. He is the main reason I wish we were not using an adapted script: he came to our first rehearsal with his entire part memorized. So we gave him an additional part. He comes to me each week with ideas for his character, for staging, for mood. His instincts are good, which is notable because he can’t see the entire stage. He wears argyle sweater vests. He’s a pretty typical high school kid, he just happens to have a cane and read Braille.

He is also Muslim.

During my undergrad coursework, I heard over and over again that school needs to be a safe, inclusive, accessible environment for every student. Many of my professors iterated the guideline that celebrating holidays in school marginalizes students of diverse religious and cultural backgrounds and students who live in poverty. I have an ongoing dilemma trying to reconcile that with the Deaf school norm of celebrating every mainstream holiday because for some students, it is the only access to the background and explanations they have.

I have seen awful posts on Facebook about American Sniper. I have seen disgusting tweets. In short, the film offers a simplistic view of a war that is all grey, and does not inspire the best responses in much of the target audience. It is this response I will address, just to keep my notes as brief as possible.

This is the kind of thing Benvolio can read online. It’s also the kind of thing his friends and classmates can read online. With the number of students in our schools who are Muslim, or who come from predominantly Muslim countries, or who just happen to be brown and encounter people who don’t know anything about world religions and/or geography, American Sniper inspires a hatred and a brand of fevered nationalism that is dangerous to their emotional well-being, their concept of self, and their safety in school.

I’m posting a few examples; the rest can be found from even a cursory search or from this Storify.

Usually I stay out of Facebook comment conversations, especially those that are political. My acquaintances save me the trouble of unfriending them by deleting me first, but I wish they would view the world through a different lens. A lens that sees the damage this film can inflict, the hatred spewed by its most ardent of fans, and the attitudes expressed by even some of the more reasonable of fans. It’s a problem for students like Benvolio, for his family, for his community. When we paint the world as black-and-white, the white people generally write the narrative. And it isn’t the kind of narrative in which the hero thinks critically about his actions, sees the Other as a whole human person, or considers the nuance of the story into which he’s written. And when we consume the narrative as uncritically as it was written, we legitimize it.