Sameness = Equality?

So today turned out to be one of those phenomenal teaching days--the kind that gives teachers warm, fuzzy satisfaction and renewed affirmation. I'll bring you up to speed so you can follow...

I currently teach composition to seniors--and not just any seniors; I teach second semester, college-bound seniors who have not only paid their deposits to myriad universities, but seniors who are clearly suffering from serious cases of "senioritis." Needless to say, teaching has been quite a challenge over the last few weeks, as I have not only had to contend with the aforementioned senioritis, but also with Senior Spirit Week, the prom, Senior Skip Day, and the like.

In an attempt to try and maintain some decorum in my classroom (as well as practice crowd-control), I decided to end the year with short fiction. I reasoned with my classes that reading short fiction was the alternative to writing yet another long paper, and they eagerly complied.

One such story was Kurt Vonnegut's "Harrison Bergeron." I urge you to read it if you haven't; however, in a nutshell, it is a story set in 2081 and depicts society as having achieved absolute equality in every way. Equality is reached by handicapping all citizens so that they are all--in effec--the same. As Vonnegut puts it, "Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else."

The students seemed to enjoy the story, and they dutifully completed their discussion questions as assigned. But I wasn't quite satisfied with their collective passivity in completing the assignment. I began to think of ways that I could get students to really think about the implications of a society where everyone is the same, and I wanted them to decide whether being "the same" was the same as being "equal."

Today when students walked in, I had them organize themselves into groups. I wrote down various activities on strips of paper, and instructed each group to choose one. Each slip of paper asked the group to perform a collective activity. Once they were settled and understood what it was they were being asked to do, I walked around the class and assigned each student a "handicap"--in the spirit of "Harrison Bergeron." Each student was instructed to function within the group as though they had that handicap. The different handicaps assigned ranged from deafness to blindness to loss of limb use to Tourette's Syndrome (and many others). Each student had a different disability to "own" and quickly learn how to live with. Needless to say, this made their group work very interesting, but also very difficult. I watched them all quietly as they struggled to complete their assignments with their "disabilities" hindering them.

Once students had worked to complete their assigned activities, I asked them to reflect on their experiences. We discussed how they felt about their disabilities, and many of them responded by saying that it was terribly hard to function. We also discussed whether or not they felt that they were all equal within their groups because they all had a disability to contend with. None of them thought they were equal, which led us into a discussion about how none of us are born equal in every way. Some people are smarter than others, some are better looking than others, some are more athletic than others, etc. They, however, felt that equality is possible, but that making everyone the same is not the way to do it. Their discussion and insights were amazing.

As a teacher, I was astounded on several levels. First, I was impressed that my seniors were eager to participate and actually "owned" their disabilities. Second, they were able to use their role-playing to truly investigate whether or not sameness equals equality. Finally, they were brutally honest in their discussion regarding sameness and equality--which is what I respected most of all. All too often we want to pretend that we are all equal to one another; unfortunately, we are anything but. It is painful to admit that we do see each other as different (and often inferior) because of our differences (and disabilities).

I am so very fortunate to have the privilege of spending the past year with these amazing young adults. They are so bright, yet so fun to teach! I know I will miss them terribly in a few weeks when they are gone. Lately, after I have had one of these amazing days, I wonder if this will be my last year experiencing such satisfaction from my profession. I immediately panic, and I wonder if I am making the right decision to transition into administration.

In the meantime, though, I'll just enjoy the short ride that I have left.