A Kids' Guide to Inclusion (for Grown-ups)

written by Priya Dabak

Whenever I think of my old school and what I learnt from my students, two incidents stand out in my memory. I remember being part of a school assembly, where a bunch of students played a skit highlighting the rights of a transwoman. This was about four years ago, and the assembly performance was scripted by these high-schoolers themselves. If you know teenagers today, you’d know that this is no great feat.?

Yet, what makes this memory stand clear in my mind, is the foreground to this scene. There I stood, with a group of high school teachers, many older than me, who were quizzically watching the play unfold. Ours was a progressive school and yet, someone whispered, so wait, “is that a man or a woman?” Another teacher replied, “no no, neither...,” and there was some subdued chuckling. Listen to the kids, I wanted to say. They may be performing that skit for their peers, but there’s a lesson for us here.

Another memory, a few years off from this one. A student came up to me and alluded to these “confusing thoughts” that were eating them up. About who they liked, about their body. Very natural, yet confusing thoughts. I didn’t know what to do. My options as a teacher were to inform the parents, seek advice from the administration, or get the counsellor involved. Of course, the fourth option was simply to listen, no breach of trust involved.

As I spoke to the kid that day, someone I did not even teach anymore, I realised that they didn’t trust us - the system - to help them. They were talking to me as they would talk to a friend. I was a sounding board. A source of comfort, perhaps, certainly not help.?

This kid knew that the odds were stacked against them finding a “grown-up” who’d care enough to understand them and their context. They had figured out the rift, and they’d already grudgingly accepted it. It was embarrassing to admit they were right. I was a cog in a system that never asked, “What are you looking for?” before saying, “How can I fix this?” Why would I be any different from the next parent or teacher?

I didn’t know why I had held on to these memories, until lastweek, when I read something in an article about school culture and discipline across America. According to the article, whenever a discussion about rights, reform, and community comes up, the focus is on what can be done to help or change the individual. And as a consequence -?

“Caring and community are conceptualized as things teachers teach children to do by getting them to behave in appropriate ways.?

Attention is directed away from the equally, if not more, critical aspects of what can be done to change the social contexts and cultural systems in which the individual is a participant.”

[McDermott & Varenne, 2006]

Neither caring nor community is a one-way street. The first thought in any situation that is deemed to be deficient or problematic, ought to be - In what ways am I part of the problem? In what ways have I enabled this or allowed this to happen? Far too many of us simply say, “Well, I believe in equality. Well, I don’t have any biases.” But, of course, we do. They are systemically built into us. If only it were that easy, just to say, “Ta-da! No biases.” Hardly.

It’s a conscious rethinking, every step of the way, and it involves listening.

We talk about engaging in conversations a lot, be it about mental health, pride, feminism, and whatnot. But there is no point in the conversation if it doesn’t come from a place of humility. Start with seeking to understand before explaining your point of view, be curious before you start consoling, de-centre your perspective.?

Before you think about: “How should I speak to my children about this? How can I help my child tackle this? How can I…?,” ask yourself this: How do they feel? What do they want to know? And what can they teach me?

Last week, I asked my old students a question on Instagram: What would I want to teach my parents about gender and sexuality? Here are their responses.