This is my second entry in my series of different events I experienced that have shaped the way I see and interact with the world. Among the most significant is American Thought.

American Thought (AT), previewed in my previous entry, was arguably the most influential class I took in high school. At times, the class was hilarious and fun; other times, it was infuriating beyond belief. I didn’t learn a lot about American History or Literature, but I did learn a lot about people. It raised questions that I, as an outsider, was uniquely positioned to see. Hopefully, I am not alone in these remembrances and observations, but as I share this story, you will see why I suspect that this number is few.

A few nuts and bolts before I dive into this tale. AT was the brainchild of two teachers: Mr. History and Ms. Literature, both of whom were politically liberal. The class was project- and discussion-based, and had an art component. For the discussions, we sat in a circle on the floor so that “everyone would be equal.” We called this a “kraal,” which is from Afrikaans. A handful of weeks into the school year, the art teacher was injured, so for many months, art was replaced with more kraals. As is common in any discussion-based setting, extroverts were praised, and introverts were criticized.

(Years later, I met someone from South Africa and asked her about kraals. She said they were circular pens for holding goats. She’d never heard it used in the context of a discussion. This insight brought me joy.)
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​Since the class was project-based, we didn’t have your typical assignments. Each quarter centered on a theme, and there would be various activities and papers, usually completed individually or in pairs. Then, each quarter culminated with a 6-person, 45-minute-long presentation. All assignments had two grades: one for substance and one for style. However, it was possible to get away with a lack of substance if one was entertaining enough. Conversely, if one’s main point contradicted a teacher’s personal view, even if well supported, one could get counted down.

This brings me to third quarter. After a unit on Expansion (ie, colonization) and one on Industrialization, we were now doing “Isms.” You know, philosophies, like puritanism, realism, capitalism, creationism, transcendentalism, beat poetry, and the Southern mind. Yes, you read that right, the teachers of American Thought, a class that claimed critical thinking, made the decision to present an entire region of the country as a philosophical monolith on par with beat poetry and every other after-dinner debate in New England.

I was not comfortable with this at the time, but did not have the capacity to fully understand what bothered me about it, other than it “othered” me on certain levels. Now, with almost 30 years of hindsight, I see how completely dangerous, divisive, and prejudiced that decision was.

Before I go any further and tell the part of the story that really and truly makes me furious, I want to request one thing: Please remember that all the students in this story were around 16 or 17. I’ve had to give myself quite a bit of grace because much of my learning came later. At the time, I was too confused and jumbled to know how to respond. In the years that followed, different events would remind me of this class, adding clarity to both. I hope my classmates have had similar experiences of learning.

​Back to the story.

At the end of the third quarter, one group chose to do their 45-minute presentation on the Southern mind. Specifically, they wanted to show the different stereotypes people in the Boston area have about the South. They had a video of one guy interviewing people in the grocery store parking lot, which was pretty funny. When he’d ask, “What do you know about the South?” many would reply, “South Boston?”

They also performed a series of skits. None of them were flattering, but I only remember one. They did a portrayal of how the Klan got its start. The skit entailed the boys in wifebeaters, getting drunk and bored, then deciding to go beat up black people. There was a lot of laughter. I did not laugh. (Sidenote: I’d never heard of men’s undershirts being called wifebeaters before this sketch. I still hate this name.)
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When I got home and told my mom about this project, I just sobbed. I can remember where I was in the kitchen. What upset me the most is that they never presented how things actually are. Yes, it was a project about stereotypes, but what’s the point if they are never addressed?

Take the formation of the Klan. It wasn’t bored, drunk rednecks. It was town and city leaders who thought they needed to protect their families. It had more organic and “noble” beginnings that are a lot more insidious and dangerous. The kind of thinking I believe is important for people to face if we are going to have the peaceful society that we claim to want. Gone with the Wind has a pretty good description of this kind of thinking, but according to Mr. History, that book was too biased to be referred to. Unlike every other novel we read.

The bullshit shown in that skit actually perpetuates this idea expressed by President Johnson:

​So, yeah, that group got A’s for both substance and style. I never spoke up about my feelings about it because I was too confused at the time. Also, I’d been shut down a lot in the class. One friend who’d been in that group did ask me about it, and I did tell her it bothered me that they never got to how things really are, but the conversation never got that deep. She’s one of a handful of people I’d love to talk more about AT with because I know she, being one of two or three ethnic minorities, experienced things, too.

​All-in-all, I don’t regret taking the class. I learned a lot. Much of the experience set me up for success in later things I have done. But arguably little of what I learned was what they set out to teach me.

I’ve written previously about what I like to call Experience Deniers, a term a friend and I coined for anyone who downplays the experience of another. Lately, with the world being as it is, this country especially, I’ve been thinking about how much the denial of others’ experiences has played a role in this mess. This goes in all directions. In truth, some of the most dangerous people I’ve encountered have been highly educated. The problem? They already knew everything and had nothing left to learn.

With all this, I’ve been thinking about how I’ve had the unique opportunity to live in the North, South, and Midwest. In rural and urban areas. Be amongst blue-collar workers and academics, predominantly white communities, and highly diverse ones. I’ve also traveled many places and have the kind of personality that quietly watches the interactions going on around me. I don’t know much, but I am curious, and I notice things and I ask questions.
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So, this is the first of a series of entries about different events I have witnessed or experienced that have shaped the way I understand the world and the way people interact within it. I believe all of these have made me a better listener.

I went to high school in Massachusetts. In my junior year, I took American Thought. It combined US History and Literature and met two periods a day. Having moved there from West Virginia and having family from Arkansas, I was the token Southern girl. As a result, my thoughts on the Civil War were immediately suspect, regardless of what they were. This was incredibly frustrating, especially when you consider how West Virginia came to be a state.

Anyhow, we read Uncle Tom’s Cabin. While I can respect the historical value of this book, I did not enjoy reading it at all. One thing I disliked was that the darker the Black people were, the dumber they were. It was like the amount of melanin was inversely proportional to intelligence. Yet, when I tried to voice this, the class – and teachers – responded as if the poor Southern girl just didn’t understand.

Making matters worse, the discussion went on to the scene when the Ohio River freezes overnight, so Eliza can make her escape. The question was asked if this was something that could literally happen or an example of mystical realism. I answered that it was definitely mystical realism because I used to live on the Ohio River, and there was no way it could freeze overnight like that.

Again, the poor Southern girl responses. It was pointed out that the much smaller river near the school froze over once when it was below freezing for several days.

Never mind that the Ohio is the second largest river in the country by discharge. Never mind that where I lived was several hundred miles upstream from Kentucky, and it was still a quarter mile wide. Never mind that in the early 1800s no locks or other modern flow regulators had been built yet.
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I was from the South. They were from the North. There was no way I could know.