In the spring of 2020, everything changed.
Everything changed first over COVID-19. People worked from home, others lost their jobs. Overnight, our plans changed. Our needs changed. And the organizations we counted on to meet those needs – they had to change as well.
And something else was happening too. The same week North Carolina closed its schools, a woman named Breonna Taylor was shot and killed by police in Louisville. Two months later, George Floyd was killed in Minneapolis. And as people flooded the streets in protest, once again, we realized things had to change.
It’s now been three years since that spring. What have we learned from our experience? What lessons have we taken away? What changes have we made? And which of those changes will last?
“Three Years” is a series by 97.9 The Hill’s Aaron Keck – looking back on our memories and lessons learned from our collective experience, drawn from conversations with numerous government officials, nonprofit heads, scholars and thought leaders in the Chapel Hill-Carrboro community.
Click here for the entire 15-part series.
Listen to Chapter 10:
Chapter 10: The Teachers
What should we take from the last three years? How should we understand what’s happened? How can we move forward in a better way?
I want to learn something about our collective experience. And lucky for me, there are a lot of very smart, insightful people in our community.
But if you really want to learn something, you go to the teachers.
North Carolina Poet Laureate Jaki Shelton Green:
“I remember James Baldwin wrote that the role of the artists is to write about the times that they live in. And I have always taken that very, very seriously…
“We all need more agency and our lives. We all need to be more urgent. You know, we throw around the word ‘resilient’ quite a bit, but I think that we’re very fragile as well. All of us are very fragile…
“I’ve heard my father’s stories about World War II, and my mom was a Rosie the Riveter. So I kept thinking about those moments when you’re called upon to truly be engaged in service. So as a poet laureate, I really try to go off the page. It’s not all about writing poems. How does art affect our lives? How does art keep us going? How does it become therapeutic? How does it become a playground for us? How does it become a sanctuary for us?
“I had one principal who sat in (my classroom) for six weeks. I don’t know who was running the school, but he came to my class every day. And (he) would tearfully talk with the children, about their rich experience and how they were giving it back…
“I found myself realizing that I had…to help people understand that creativity is medicine. And here’s a moment where we can look at how we are bringing forth all of our creativity. More people were in the kitchen, experimenting with new recipes and discovering new food ways. I have friends who started designing clothes. We started rearranging the house. All of those are creative acts. (I tried) to help people name their artistry, name their creativity.”
UNC historian William Sturkey:
“I’m a bit more conscious (now) of making sure that I don’t make (my students’) lives exceedingly difficult. That is one thing that I do think about more and more and more, just sort of balancing the workload…
“It’s a really tricky (balance), because we should push students. Sometimes your best results are (with) people that you really pushed, and they get to the other side and they’re like, ‘oh, wow, okay. I get why we did that. Now I understand why that was so challenging.’ But with them, the first consideration (during) COVID was, ‘how’s this gonna affect their mental health? Is this gonna put them at risk?’”
(On how the last three years have affected his personal sense of mission:) “I feel very much grounded in the history of where it is I work. People might know this or they might not, but the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill was founded to protect our democracy. When its creators looked around and they said, ‘why did other republics fail?’, they concluded it was because they didn’t have an educated citizenry that could participate in an enlightened way. And so one of the things they wanted to do was establish a university, to help educate those citizens that they cared about voting. And even though at the time those were mostly slave-owning white males, I think that mission is still very, very powerful, and carries forward.
“So to me, I work at a place that was created to protect our democracy. And the most important part of our democracy is the freedom of speech and the freedom of the press. So any time I get a chance to engage with the public in any way, shape, or form, I consider it not only my duty, but an honor.
“We (at UNC) don’t need to go around telling everybody ‘we’re the first public university,’ we need to just act. You know? We need to make ourselves so essential that it becomes obvious that we are publicly engaged. Thinking about all of that really helps put a fire under me, in terms of what I’m doing here – and the opportunities that I have (personally), but then also that the university itself has, in our local community, but also to the state, to the region, and to the republic of the United States of America.”
Author, playwright, and Fayetteville Tech communications instructor Sonny Kelly:
“I teach these kids. They’re in despair. They’re in despair, they’re in crisis…
“I think that this last couple of years has revealed to us that we were more vulnerable than we thought. I am seeing in my classrooms more anxiety, depression, insecurity, and fear of communication. I don’t want to say we’re losing our humanity, but – we’ve developed this uncertainty about our humanity. And this trepidation about how we are going to engage with other humans. Much more uncertainty, much more anxiety, depression. Because we need each other.”
(On what colleges can do to help:) “Give their teachers lighter loads. Because teachers are overworked right now at the K-12 level and at the university level. They want us to do research, they want us to write, they want us to teach all these classes. And then if we can’t teach them, they’ll fill in with adjuncts. And adjuncts are great, I was an adjunct once as well – but there’s something about having a permanent faculty member here, who can build relationships with you. So give the teachers lighter teaching loads – but also, challenge them to play a part in the retention. And tell every teacher, ‘Hey, we want these students to succeed and to be retained. And you’re a part of that…’
“One faculty member told me – I think (this) should be a best practice across the board, especially at community colleges – if a student fails your class, write a letter to them. And just let them know that you hope they take it again. There’s so many students here (that) when they fail or they just stop showing up, nobody checks up on them, and they just feel like they’ve fallen through the cracks. And they never get back into the saddle, because they don’t think anybody sees them. And something as simple as writing a letter saying, ‘I’m sorry you failed the class. I missed you. I’m not sure what happened’ – from a professor, from a person of power, that communicates that you matter. (And) I think that universities and colleges should be trying to find creative ways to let students know that they matter beyond their grades.”
(On his mission to counter ‘microaggressions’ with ‘micro-affirmations,’ little things that we can say or do, intentionally, to lift each other up:) There was a small child, maybe two years old, in Walmart. Now I have my mask on, and he didn’t have his mask on. (But) I looked at him and I smiled, and he smiled back. Because he felt my energy. He saw my eyes squeeze up, and he knew what a smile was. And I just thought, ‘there’s great hope in this. We haven’t lost ourselves.’ And I just refuse to pass by people without seeing them and naming their humanity. And saying, ‘you have a name. What’s your name? Hi…’
“We can do microaggressions in our sleep. I mean, we walk in stereotypes and prejudice. You can micro-aggress any time. (But) we hardly ever stop and build up people. That takes work, that takes time, that takes energy. And that takes love, Aaron. And you’ve got to choose love. If we’re going to work our way out of this pandemic, work our way out of the division that we see in our communities, in our nation, we have got to begin to love. And love takes time.
“I think it’s Brené Brown who says there’s a difference between ‘empathy’ and ‘sympathy.’ Sympathy says, ‘I feel sorry for you, and I see you, and I’m going to read How To Be An Anti-Racist, and I’m going to be an ally.’ Empathy says, ‘more than an ally, I’m going to be your brother and sister. I see you’re hurting. I’m going to sit down with you. I’m going to spend time with you, I’m going to connect with you, and I’m going to acknowledge the fact that what you’re going through is real. You’re not crazy. And I know it hurts. And let’s sit down and just be together in this.’
“We can disagree on a lot of factors, but we cannot disagree on our mutual humanity. And so what I’ve been doing more and more is calling my students, on the phone, talking to them for five to ten to thirty minutes. If you’re not in class or you’re not doing your work, I will call you. Is it in my job description? No. Do I have the time to do it? Not really! Lately, I’ve probably been busier than I’ve ever been. My office hours, I have students coming to me and they’re not talking about academic stuff. They just want to get stuff off their chest. And I’ve got to make myself available because if I don’t, who will? (I want) to just let them be themselves for a moment, and to empathize, and let them know they’re not crazy and they are loved. And there is something called love. And love demands work, and it demands showing up and putting skin in the game…
“It’s so inconvenient, Aaron! I mean, I have to remind myself, when a student walks into my office hours, and I know it’s the kind of student that’s going to talk to me for 20 minutes, I for a moment say, ‘ugh’ – and (then) I remember, in that moment, what keeps me afloat. What has kept my head up through this pandemic, and through all the division in this nation, is looking to a light that’s greater than mine. And I think about Jesus Christ, and how he was with the people, (how) he empathized with the people…
“It’s in the famous story of how Jesus brings Lazarus back from the dead. The shortest scripture ever. ‘Jesus wept.’ Jesus did not weep because Lazarus was dead! He knew he was going to bring Lazarus back. Jesus wept because the people around him were crying. And he felt their pain. He took a moment to just feel. He invested himself to be present. He was God in person, he was perfect, he could fix the problem – (but) he didn’t come to fix it. He came to be with us. And so for me, what I’m doing is – I’m just looking at people. I’m noticing them. I’m learning their names. And if I forget their names: ‘I’m so sorry. I forgot your name.’ I’m being accountable. I’m allowing myself to be imperfect. But (I’m striving) for that which is perfect. And that, to me, is love. Acknowledging your existence. Acknowledging that you matter. And saying, ‘I am better because you’re here…’
“And if you can feel that you’re better because I’m here, and I’m better because you’re here, then maybe you’ll find some purpose and start to empathize as well. And – maybe we can do this humanity thing a little bit better.”
Jaki Shelton Green:
“The word is required. What is required of us? I think we live in a culture where we’re so comfortable, we require very little of ourselves. And there’s no entity that requires goodness, or kindness, or compassionate listening, or patience, or generosity. And sometimes those very words – people roll their eyes at them, you know?
“But where is kindness, inside of all the conversations? And where is tolerance? We have this opportunity to go through these new portals. We can walk through naked, and just strip ourselves of all the stuff, all the -isms, and all of these things that are holding us hostage…
“We’re all human. We’re all here at the same time, experiencing the same thing. And we’re not experiencing it differently. We are – and then we’re not.”
Click here for the entire 15-part series.
Feature photo: Aaron Keck with North Carolina poet laureate Jaki Shelton Green.
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