I walk into my classroom and I brace myself for what I will see reflected in the babies eyes that I teach.
I look into the eyes of my black children and I see the pain and fear reflected there because they have seen their families whipped, beaten, hanged, shot, and killed .
I look into the eyes of my brown children and I see the pain and fear reflected there because they have seen their families hunted and ripped from their arms, herded into cages like animals, put in detention camps, deported, leaving them in America crying and weeping alone.
I look into the eyes of my Asian children and I see the pain and fear reflected there because they have seen their families spit upon called names, and told to go back to China because they caused the virus around the world.
I look into the eyes of my Jewish children and I see the pain and fear reflected there because they have seen their families shot while praying, and told “Jews will not replace us.”
I look into the eyes of my Native American children and I see the pain and fear reflected there because they have seen their family’s land destroyed by chemicals and construction, and told, “You do not belong in our country.” The country that they were first to inhabit.
I look into the eyes of my white children and I see the pain and fear reflected there because they do not know the truth of what they see and hear. Are their families part of the solution or part of the problem?
I look at the faces in my one little classroom and I feel the pain and fear. I want to scream, yell, pound my fist, but I know what I must do.
I look into their eyes. I hold each and everyone. I weep with them because I know that I too was once that child that had that pain and fear reflected in my eyes not so long ago.
Laurie Jay