Censorship, Book Banning, all that.

What did I do about it?

Quite a lot, actually.

Took me awhile to figure things out, trial balloons, not a cunning plan to elicit support, just awhile looking back to see what worked, what’s worth mentioning, passing on.

I always believed in communication. Started with the students, gave them a questionnaire on the first day, asked them to tell me about themselves, what they liked, what they didn’t, favorite things to do, places to go, food to eat, movies/TV to watch, plans for later in life, the usual, what you want to know about them, got right to it.

Monitored them to be sure they were taking it seriously, real answers. Collected them, stayed up late reading and commenting on them, filed them in folders I had already set up, marked them off on a wall chart to show an assignment already completed. Second day in class they came in to find their folders with returned work, comments responding to what they’d written, saw the wall chart with their names and credit already. It wasn’t just that I was visibly on top of things, ahead of them so there was no struggle for power or classroom control. They saw immediately that I took them seriously, cared about them as individuals, was honest with them, and they were honest back.

I had a seating chart where I penciled in credit for answering questions, for asking questions, for reading aloud. Told them I’d post tallies for student participation, and they watched the numbers grow. Class became fun, school was fun, reading and writing and learning was fun like a game they were winning in competition with themselves. It worked in elementary school, in high school and even in college. The students were in a partnership with the teacher, members of the same academic team.

So when I sent introductory letters home to the parents, including them in the process with their children, the children were already advocates and the parents joined in. Later, in high school, when a few parents resisted signing off on homework (a requirement I dropped), saying their children were old enough to take responsibility for their own actions and didn’t need a parent’s signature, I praised them for being ahead of the curve, wise parents raising students readier than so many of their peers to deal with college and maturity and independence, their resistance melted, they joined the choir, and I got invited to parties and family gatherings. They framed my letters of recommendation for college and hung them on the living room wall.

We’d keep in touch by notes and letters, sometimes by phone, notices about opportunities, contests, field trips. We talked at open house and parent conferences where we would review the work in the folder. They saw that I set standards, did not accept inferior work that did not represent the best effort, required re-writing, saw how revisions led to a re-written final report that was obviously and noticeably better. They saw how we dug deeper into literature, saw how questions led to answers, saw how the student was being prepared for the next level in school and for life afterward. They saw my concern and caring, rejoiced, and sometimes by reflection took a greater interest and involvement in their own child’s life.

Win/win. Nice/nice.

But wait, there’s more.

I kept finding ways to involve the students in education beyond my classroom. I looked for contests they could enter, and they won prizes. I helped form clubs they could join, and students across the school were suddenly in communities of common interest, they made friends, they were a part of something larger than themselves.

In elementary school, at student request, I started a chess club, stayed in at lunch and after school and then at the library across the street. We put together a tournament for surrounding cities, and my students who had learned to beat me at chess, won most of the trophies, pictures in the newspaper.

We planned field trips, which required parent permission and often included parent participation for supervision, and we all got to know each other better and shared the communal joy of companionable togetherness. School was a positive part of our lives.

But wait, there’s more.

I kept administrators in the loop, locally at school, Department Chairs, Principals, counselors, and the Powers That Be Downtown and beyond, Superintendents, School Boards, Mayors, the newspaper. The students produced a literary magazine, the library printed and circulated copies, gave copies to the families, and I sent copies to the Superintendent, his staff, the School Board all of whom by now had become friends because we were all colleagues together. They sent back appreciative supportive letters. Without intending to, because I’m guileless, I had developed an army of support that included parents and the community.

Random attacks from aggrieved individuals met with a phalanx of educational support. I hadn’t planned it that way, but retrospection shows I had prepared my forces with care and diligence. All of us who mattered were on the same side.

That’s all sweetness and light. It details some ways to collaborate support ahead of time, ready when needed. Like-mindedness can be developed and nurtured.

All well and good. But how did it work in practice? In many ways, very well. Success can breed success. Understanding of common purpose can diffuse criticism, and absorb, integrate, digest and neutralize attacks.

But not always.

So my words to the wise, if I touch on disparate aspects, rely on the determination that when “you can’t win ‘em all,” don’t give up, keep trying, find other ways. When the going gets tough, the tough get going, which I guess means don’t give in, stay strong, find allies, friends.

I’ve written elsewhere about some of the crises I’ve faced and weathered. I’ve detailed successes and failures. Look for them on my blog: sterlingbooks.org and on my YouTube channel: youtube.com/@sterlingbooksdotorg. Look for them in the places where they’ve been published. Don’t expect easy answers. But do expect and work for needed answers. Join groups and like-minded organizations. There’s strength in numbers. Keep thinking and reading and learning and finding things out. Knowledge really is Power. Hold fast to those you love who love you. Support spreads out like oil on water.

If there are books on the list to be banned, read them, or if you have already, look at them again. Make up your own mind about them, and be prepared to explain or defend your point of view. Know what you’re talking about, and then talk about it.

Don’t be like the woman recruited from the community by the intractable right to attack Huckleberry Finn because the book has the bad word in it, and I asked her what the attitude was in the book itself and she screamed, “I don’t read trash!”

Don’t be like the District administrator who sat back, drugged on non-involvement, when a conference on controversial literature exploded almost to blows as one teacher tried to find common ground and the other yelled, “Don’t touch me!” and I tried to break through the administrator’s vapid smile by saying, “We can’t leave things like this (just short of blood-letting), we need to meet again, soon, clear the air, become colleagues again, find whatever qualified resolution in a cease fire….” And he said, “no, it’s good to see them discussing issues…” unaware of what was actually being said.

I tried to get the District to understand the commitment they signed for a partnership with Cal State where high school students would concurrently take college classes while they attended an academic magnet high school, but the extra search and support to preserve mandated ethnic balance was beyond their understanding, and then beyond their volition, and the project died by attrition. I regret I wasn’t able to do more, but I did try.

I started projects I couldn’t finish and kept working with students after they graduated because they hadn’t outgrown what I could teach, and they came back to thank me, but I regret that I couldn’t do more.

Don’t live in regret. I have, and it accomplishes nothing. Recognize what you have accomplished, give yourself credit, and don’t give up. Even if you don’t finish a project or see the end result of your effort, you are a part of the process for positive change in the world. Remember the famous words of Martin Luther King, Jr., where he shares that he’s seen the vision of what can be, the “promised land,” and he reassures us that, though he may not get there with us, we will, all of us, still arrive someday. We must not give up.

They put me in charge of School Accreditation in my first year teaching high school. I quickly figured out it was because nobody wanted the job, and I got to know everybody on the staff, the inner workings and underside, and, youthful me, I wrote a report full of enthusiasm and hope and commitment, and I tried to get everybody to share the vision, arguing that accreditation was assured but this was our chance to put in writing what we wanted for the school and the District would have to support us because they signed the Document like the Constitution. There were teachers who saw the vision, the opportunity, but so many were tired, just hanging on, and things subsided to the usual and the District was relieved not to have to realize what they had signed, and, the report being finished, was filed away, and I was back in the classroom teaching. For me to see what I could do there, still saying if only to myself, “We came so close!” and I didn’t know what else I could do to push the vision because teaching was already more than enough, but not enough.

Join organizations, unions, federations, coalitions. In Pasadena we have PEA and PFT, the more progressive union. I joined both for solidarity, strategized, surprised myself by becoming vice-president, but let attrition succumb to the demands of teaching.

I didn’t give up. There were times I was deeply discouraged, and sometimes I felt like giving up, but I didn’t. Somehow, I kept going, and I drew strength from like-minded people who shared in the work of making our world a better place.

Let’s meet at the barricades.