Teaching Through Tears
by Ben Lewis
As a child growing up, my mom said to me on multiple occasions, “Ben, why don’t you ever cry?” Hiding from the truth I would respond curtly, “What are you talking about, why should I cry?” She would respond, “It’s not ok to leave your emotions bottled up.” I would nod in agreement and my eyes stayed dry through family deaths, school struggles, embarrassment, happy moments, inspiring stories. My mom still asks the question today and my eyes still stay dry. My short response in my head was much more thought out in mind, and my mind was as clear as my eyes. I thought:
Crying is a sign of weakness
Crying shows that you are overly emotional and men don’t have emotions
Crying is for women
This was unequivocal and the thought was as unshakable as I thought I was. I’ve carried these ideas throughout my adult life and although more mature, when my mom asks me “Ben, why don’t you ever cry?” I revert to childhood immaturity as I respond. I understand where this mentality came from. I was taught by my father and other men around me that you simply DON’T cry. I’ve carried this emotion into teaching. In my working with staff and students, I rely on respect but I stray from emotion focusing on results and work rather than feelings. This strategy can be helpful because it often times creates clearer vision in driving toward goals. That being said, I find myself inspired by my students but I still can’t find the tears to show it.
During my first year of teaching, I became closely acquainted with tears. Not my own but those of my students. There were multiple spaces for personal connections in our discussions and my seniors jumped at the chance to tell a story about their lives. My students told stories, argued with each other, raised their voices, and felt silenced…all of which produced tears at some point or another. My fears consumed me and my classroom as my beginning classroom management skills would not suffice to mediate arguments between students and ensure that everyone’s voice was heard. My latent fear of tears growing, I set out during my second year of teaching to create a much more stable environment where students knew the rules of discussion. We covered much more content, the work was more rigorous, there were fewer stories, more debates, fewer arguments, no raised voices, and I felt comfortable. I felt, this is how learning should happen and in this space, there is no space for tears.
But this was a safe space for me. The essence of teaching is understanding. If I am really to teach someone, I need to get them to understand something new or look at something differently. When I think about my high school memories, I remember times when I felt something in the classroom. The specific lesson objectives, lectures, projects, and homework assignments fade into the past but the feelings are clear. Like, when I felt angry for what stood as activism after reading Booker T. Washington or how I felt after Mr. T told me that I speak well. So if I am to teach my students and create new understandings, I need to create spaces where students can feel something.
Although the tears stay hidden, my vision is now blurred and my understanding is clouded. And I’m left at the beginning of what I hope will be a journey of understanding how emotion plays out in the classroom.
Ben Lewis teaches English at Freire Charter School. Ben joined the Philadelphia Writing Project in 2013 as a teacher consultant.