Our students came to Bellville High School after their first night with Bellville homestays. We, their teachers and chaperones, were discussing the power of this event of South Africa and the growth of our students; through experience, we have seen a big leap when they move from the township to the suburb. And it's happening. This suburb that somewhat resembles what they know--the comfortable little detached houses, the greenery, the evenly spaced shops, the new cars, the many white faces--allows them to take reactions from open minds to the almost entirely alien interactions and environments in the township and sew them back up again. The contrast is not merely one between South Africa and the United States, they see, but neighborhood to neighborhood: resources do exist in abundance here, and they are parceled out in extremes.
The stark environmental shift did not account for the biggest piece of students' racing thoughts and feelings, though. It's the attitudinal shift that they observe, the questions and comments from the Bellville parents about Langa and pronouncements about race, and the internal buzz of respectfully listening to hosts while trying at the same time to piece together the history students have learned, townships moments they've had, and what relates to America and what seems uniquely South African. Did you feel safe in Langa? Did you feel safe in the school there? We like what you're doing, but understand it's reverse Apartheid here, where if you apply for a job, the Black will get it. And one student reported this statement: Things were better for the blacks during Apartheid.
We love our HFB families and our hosts, and they have been welcoming, gracious, and generous. What I told students yesterday was that they might hear statements from the older Afrikaner generation that would make them uncomfortable, but to try not to judge or think less of their hearts, but consider it as a useful lens to view the larger South African tapestry. Ideally students can feel grateful and warm towards their families and also be hearts-open to the wounds they see continually cultivated by these, even these nice, good people, to the townships and their residents.
Do the casual attitudes of comfortable people who have nothing to do with government and who live apart from suffering have an effect on those in segregated poverty? This is certainly a question Roosevelt students, and certainly members of HFB, should be willing to entertain.
The student performance this morning was electric. The Bellville audience was excited and receptive, and when we started singing "Country Roads," we Americans were all surprised when the audience, who filled the auditorium utterly, including those seated on the floor in the aisles and up to the wall of the stage and all up the wings, thundered in chorus with our students.
Kate and I worried for our girls, when, during the Q&A, the first question was a shout to Tessa: What is your number. Later another boy yelled out, Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven? Mandy said their students would never say these things in private, but in the anonymous crowd, they felt they could get away with it. The behavior nevertheless highlights the beginning of an effort in America to re-educate our boys so they don't celebrate their masculinity in ways that literally or figuratively pin women down, and in my classroom, to consider what laughter in moments of aggression really carries. Kate talked to Tessa, and she was okay.
Really, I think she was on a high from the performance, their last one, and one for the books. Our kids were stars.
(But if you want to see something truly polished, watch Bellville High School win the flashes competition, and if you don't know what that it is, you should also watch it.)
The stark environmental shift did not account for the biggest piece of students' racing thoughts and feelings, though. It's the attitudinal shift that they observe, the questions and comments from the Bellville parents about Langa and pronouncements about race, and the internal buzz of respectfully listening to hosts while trying at the same time to piece together the history students have learned, townships moments they've had, and what relates to America and what seems uniquely South African. Did you feel safe in Langa? Did you feel safe in the school there? We like what you're doing, but understand it's reverse Apartheid here, where if you apply for a job, the Black will get it. And one student reported this statement: Things were better for the blacks during Apartheid.
We love our HFB families and our hosts, and they have been welcoming, gracious, and generous. What I told students yesterday was that they might hear statements from the older Afrikaner generation that would make them uncomfortable, but to try not to judge or think less of their hearts, but consider it as a useful lens to view the larger South African tapestry. Ideally students can feel grateful and warm towards their families and also be hearts-open to the wounds they see continually cultivated by these, even these nice, good people, to the townships and their residents.
Do the casual attitudes of comfortable people who have nothing to do with government and who live apart from suffering have an effect on those in segregated poverty? This is certainly a question Roosevelt students, and certainly members of HFB, should be willing to entertain.
The student performance this morning was electric. The Bellville audience was excited and receptive, and when we started singing "Country Roads," we Americans were all surprised when the audience, who filled the auditorium utterly, including those seated on the floor in the aisles and up to the wall of the stage and all up the wings, thundered in chorus with our students.
Really, I think she was on a high from the performance, their last one, and one for the books. Our kids were stars.
(But if you want to see something truly polished, watch Bellville High School win the flashes competition, and if you don't know what that it is, you should also watch it.)
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