What I could have said: Addressing racial stereotypes in kindergarten
by guest blogger Courtney Woods
It was just another moment in kindergarten, when the teacher (me) was ushering, begging, pleading that all the energetic and excited little bodies stop what they’re doing and come to the carpet for a story. There was a lot going on, including a little girl asking for a band aid, a little boy getting his snack out when I had just asked him to come to the rug for story time, and a dozen other conversations among five-year-old children.
Then I looked over at one group of boys. They were pulling the corners of their eyes up into little slits, and saying “Hahaha!” and “You look Chinese!” Two other boys, including one fifth-grade mentor who helps in my classroom, started to do it, too.
When you’re little, it’s fun to make your body contort in different shapes and show other people what it looks like. And if it makes someone laugh, chances are other children will join in. But this moment was tainted with racist undertones—and I didn’t know what to do.
I like to think of myself as well-read and well-intentioned when it comes to talking about race with children. Race, skin color, and culture is something we talk about often in my kindergarten classroom, and I recently started working with a racial justice group who leads conversations about race with local parent groups.
But in that moment, when I was worried about a million other things, including getting my class to the carpet in a somewhat efficient manner so we could move on to the next lesson, I wasn’t sure what to say to the group of boys who were unknowingly making racist, stereotypical comments about a group of people.
Here’s what I said:
“I see what you’re doing with your eyes to make them that shape. There are many things that make a person Chinese, and the shape of their eyes is just one aspect of being Chinese-American.”
Not a terrible answer. I’m glad I didn’t say “Don’t do that!” or “[gasp]…what a mean thing to do!” without giving any explanation about why such a gesture is harmful towards others.
I’m also glad I didn’t ignore it, telling myself that “kids will be kids.”
But I wondered, what could I have done differently if I had more time, or had made more time, to address the encounter? If I had stopped, taken a breath, and decided to make it a teachable moment?
These teachable moments—the opportunities that we as teachers have to notice racism, call out stereotypes, and teach our children how to be more accepting and honoring of all others—are more important than any math lesson we need to teach, or tests we need to administer.
As quoted in this New York Times article,
“It’s the children whose parents [or teachers] do directly address race—and directly means far more than vaguely declaring everyone to be equal—who are less likely to make assumptions about people based on the color of our skin.”
If I would have prioritized it, maybe I would have said:
“Let’s stop and talk about this.” And then held a conversation with the small group of boys, or perhaps with the whole class, about the meaning of the word “stereotype” and the cultural and historical context of how Asian Americans have been treated in our country—including using the shape of (some) people’s eyes to belittle or dehumanize them.
Or we could have read several books with protagonists from Asian countries, and discussed the fact that people whose ancestors come from many Eastern countries can have many different physical features.
Or maybe I could talk about how pretending to “be” someone of another race or ethnicity by changing one small thing about your body, temporarily, is dishonoring of who that person is as a whole human being.
No matter how I moved forward with the conversation, it would have been better to spend more time on it, to help my young students really understand the power of their actions, and to help them learn to navigate our world of race and racism with grace and acceptance.
But I forgive myself, and all other parents and teachers who don’t know what to say, because these moments are teachable moments for me too-and I’ll use this one to better inform what I can do next time.
Click here to read a related post, Anti-Asian racism and and young children.
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Courtney Woods is a kindergarten teacher in a Midwestern public school, as well as a graduate student pursuing her Reading Specialist license, with an emphasis on environmental literacy. She also (occasionally) blogs at TeachRunEat.com. Courtney identifies as White.
Click here for more information on participating in a Raising Race Conscious Children interactive workshop/webinar or small group workshop series or individual consultations.
I realize with young kids it is best to do things in the moment but I don’t know if you might consider going back to that moment with the kids and doing more around it or planning a kind of time for kids to ask any kind of question, and get an honest answer. These are often questions that come up and are not necessarily addressed by any adults and kids are left to answer them incorrectly on their own. Thank you so much for writing this piece and for being diligent about exploring this on your own and to bring to your work with children. It is meaningful.
When I see a child bullying or being derogatory of another child I do say, “GASP stop that! That’s unkind!” Right away! If a boy told a girl she was ugly or made fun of her dress I would call it unkind. Making fun of a minority’s eyeshape is unkind, and I won’t tiptoe around it any more than any other kind of bullying. I am a champion for compassion for all kids, and my students know I’m a protective mamma. You make fun of one of my beauties (for racial or gender reasons) you will quickly understand it is inappropriate and unkind. The kids take note and quickly become fierce champions for equality as well.
Lisa, thanks so much for reading/commenting. My only caveat to your comment (or perhaps the GASP) is to balance the desire to stop the behavior that is hurtful to others (I agree with you re not to tiptoe around)…but neither do you want to shut down the conversation without opening the opportunity for dialogue/learning…which might happen with the gasp/rapidity of the reply.