I Stole from My Kindergarten Teacher

Shandreka B. Rankin

I have very detailed memories about my kindergarten experience. I know that was the first time I was taught to “code switch” by my teacher, understanding that she was probably doing as she was told to help the “new kids” who were bused from the “other side of town” fit into their pre-established school culture. I also remember her playing the guitar to comfort me on my first day back after traveling to the South for my grandmother’s funeral. Overall, she was kind, and I truly believe she did her best to make kindergarten a positive experience for me.

And I stole from her.

In January 1988 in Syracuse, New York, my teacher placed a picture of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on the wall, and I was mesmerized. I didn’t know all the words in the caption of the image, but I knew Atlanta, Georgia, because my family was from there. He was a Black man, with a wide nose and curly hair like the men in my family. During the week of his birthday, my teacher read books highlighting his journey, and I often stared at his picture. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the first time I felt a mirror as it relates to literacy. I felt connected to Dr. King, as if he were a member of my family, and my teacher, who happened to be a white woman, was sharing him with my classmates, a room mostly full of non-Black students. This felt important to me.

As January ended, I remember seeing Dr. King’s picture on the small-group table in the back one day after recess. My teacher was changing the theme of her classroom, replacing him with a groundhog and prepping for Valentine’s Day. But the image of Dr. King felt like a family portrait of a loved one. Would I not see him again until his next birthday? I was overwhelmed with emotions, and in a panic, I took him. I placed the picture in my homework folder and took him home. I couldn’t explain it, but I needed to see more of him. So I hung him on my mirror at home.

When my mom saw the picture, I immediately told her that my teacher had given it to me as a gift. Now a thief and a liar, all in one day, I felt guilty and cried. I told my mom the truth, that I wanted the picture, so I took it without asking. Now remember, I’m from Georgia, meaning my mother is very Southern. I was charged with giving it back with a confession and an apology.

I was reflecting on this moment after sharing “Mirrors, Windows, and Sliding Glass Doors” by Rudine Sims Bishop with a group of instructional coaches over the weekend. I saw myself, or better yet, my family, in the picture of Dr. King. I felt connected to him and loved that my peers and I were learning about the positive contributions of a Black man. The goodness of someone who looked like my family or a member of my community in the South. I felt good about myself because he was being honored. I felt like I could bring good to the world too. That is the power of representation.

Through our Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Through Literacy Book of the Month project, I hope more students are seeing themselves in their classrooms. I hope more are finding those “mirrors” and that it becomes so common that no student ever feels the need to steal from their teacher to preserve that feeling of belonging. As educators diversify their collections, I hope that more students are finding “windows and sliding glass doors” too, helping everyone to have a more global view of the world outside their immediate communities.