Bronwyn Harris, Author

A couple of weeks ago, I went to visit Children's Memorial Grove, which memorializes children killed by violence in Alameda County. The memorial is at the end of a one-mile hike that overlooks a beautiful lake and is a lovely setting for a tribute to the children we have lost, but I just couldn't stop thinking, "We shouldn't need this."  The memorial only went up until 2012, so I kept wondering if I'd know more of the names. The kids I taught would be at the most dangerous ages, statistically, in the last few years. I felt panic every time I saw a first or last name I recognized, but the only child I knew personally was in 2009, and I've told his story before . I'm sure I would know more from 2013-2016. And, of course, one of my former students was killed last year, but he was an adult. Barely.  I don't know what we can do to make this obsolete. It's bad enough when kids die in any way, but to die violently? It SHOULDN...

About a month ago, a friend who works for SFPD tweeted: "So work was crazy and shocking today and is going to be weird and different tomorrow." I looked at the news, and found that the San Francisco police chief had resigned after several scandals in the police force. I didn't expect that Oakland would not just one-up San Francisco, but three-up them. It's actually astounding. Read it, and then come back here. I'm going to say up front that I had a really low bar for the OPD. I've seen them in action (or inaction) many times, up close, and I really had very low expectations. What's the opposite of surpass? They have opposite-of-surpassed my very very low expectations. When I was teaching, we had an attempted kidnapping at my school. A homeless person wandered onto the playground when the gate was open for the kindergartners to go home, and grabbed a fifth grader by his jacket, and tried to take him of campus. Fortunately, the student was smart en...

The kids at our after-school program come from many different backgrounds, but they are all extremely under-resourced in different ways. We have a variety of refugee students and I've been learning a lot anout how hard it is to be a refugee trying to navigate the American public school system, along with everything else that's new. We have a student from Congo, who came to America two years ago. I'll call her Elizabeth. I don't know much about her family because her grandmother (who might actually be her great-aunt) only speaks French and Swahili. Her grandmother has been very slow to trust us, which may be understandable given what she's been through and the fact that she can't communicate with us. Elizabeth had no consistent schooling until she got to the United States two years ago, when she was put into a grade that she was too old for, because her skills in English and math were so low. The school she was attending did not give her any help and failed ...

When you work with children, you sometimes run across child abuse and neglect. I have definitely had to make more than my share of calls to Child Protective Services, and every time is really, really hard. (Clearly this is going to be a hard post to read. That's part of my point but if you can't handle it, don't read further.) Some calls are fairly straightforward: "I saw a bruise that looked like a pinch mark on the child's upper arm; when I asked him about it, he said that his dad pinches him until he cries whenever he doesn't do his homework." Then I fill out a paper with my information, the child's information, what I saw, etc. That's an "easy" call. That's one where I don't think the child's life is in danger, I've seen evidence, and the CPS worker is probably not going to argue with me. It's not usually that easy, and even that takes a lot of emotional energy, because I care for these kids and want them to...

I have been fairly inactive on this blog but I wanted to update anyone who is still reading.  I am working on a book.  It's scary and it's a lot of work but I really want it to happen.  I'll update here when it does.  That's progress; I didn't say "if," I said, "when!" I am starting to write on education for AlterNet.  The first post can be found here , about standardized testing.  I'm trying not to read comments. I continue to find my job extremely rewarding.  That blog can be found here . I'll try to write more; if you want updates about the book and the other writing, you can check back here or follow me on twitter @bronwynann.

Every teacher has a couple of students who make their way into the teacher's heart.  Many times, these are the most challenging students and other teachers don't understand why this particular student is so important to us, but then again, they have their own.  I've had a few who stand out in this way.  One was Fred. Another former student, "Rosa", has been volunteering for me this month.  She is now 21 years old and a senior at UCLA against all odds, and truly a wonderful, beautiful person who I am honored to know. We were talking a few weeks ago about Fred and wondering what happened to him, but agreed that it was probably nothing good.  when she came in on Wednesday to volunteer, she said, "Ms. Harris, what was Fred's last name?" I knew immediately what she was going to say.  And honestly, this was a likely outcome for him. But I am heartbroken. This article was what Rosa wanted to show me, and because she knows how much I love my "ki...

A book I read a long time ago is called There Are No Children Here .  I'm fuzzy on the details, but it's about a rough neighborhood in Chicago, I believe, and the title comes from a mother who says that there are no children here - and goes on to explain how people who have seen and experienced the violence that her kids have aren't children anymore because you can't experience that and still be a child. I see this with kids and teenagers in Oakland, a lot.  When I was teaching this was really obvious.  A six-year old told me once that he had to walk his five-year old brother home because "My mama says I'm grown now."  other kids were being raised by their older siblings or older cousins, who should have been in college, figuring out who they were, not raising difficult young children who had been abandoned. In my new job, I'm seeing this a lot.  Our staff is mostly made up of teenagers, and many of them are the parental figures of their families....

I have a new job! Well, I meant to write that in July.  It's been a little busy.  With a new job and all. But I'll tell you about it!  It might, in fact, be the perfect job for me.  There's the slight matter of working for a non-profit and getting a non-profit level salary.  but aside from that, it's pretty perfect for me. I think everyone reading this probably knows I'm a Christian.  I've never worked for a Christian school or organization, however, in part because I never wanted to only work with Christians or strictly with kids for Christian families. I'm a public school teacher and worked in a quite difficult public school for eight years.  I loved the kids, loved most of the parents, had difficulties with the administration (most of the 8 incarnations of them) and hated the politics and testing. Guess what?  I got a job at a Christian organization that hires and serves all children and youth in the neighborhood, not just Christians...

I asked a parent of a teenager I work with to be a reference and he forwarded me the email he wrote.  Here it is with only my name taken out.  I'm going to keep it forever for when I don't feel like I'm making a difference. Let me share a few thoughts.  B- has been my savior the last year. At one point we had tutors in my house 6 nights a week. We’re down to just B- these days as she is so incredible. She doesn’t do the work for my son but challenges him to find the answers himself. A couple of weeks ago he cranked out a 5 paragraph essay from scratch in one hour. And it was wonderful. You could read all about her on Yelp if I ever got around to writing something. She is kind, bright, cheery, and my son and I both adore her. He respects her and works with her so much better than he does with me. She monitors his work, his notebooks, keeps him on track and makes my life enjoyable. I really can’t say enough good things. She works with my son primarily in English but al...

My Facebook friend Brook, who said I could quote her, recently had this up as her status: Just a quick bit of perspective. So, parents, do you really understand the amount of blood, sweat, and tears goes into being a teacher? Remember the last family vacation you planned, the frustration of trying to lock your family schedule down, the disappointment when plans fell through, the stress of trying to secure an alternate? Well, teachers deal with that EVERY day, only instead of doing it for a family of 4, they have to contend with the wants, needs, and sense of entitlement for families of 20+ from all walks of life, beliefs, and ideals. While you work your 8 hours and get paid for it, your child's teacher is working 10+ and there's NO overtime. Those field trips, parties, and events all take time to plan. The lessons and projects that keep you children engaged; when do you think all that work happens? During school hours? Don't kid yourself. Teachers do it on their time, ...

I take my Little Sister to a lot of kid-friendly events and she knows a good amount of my friends and family now.  When a friend was moving to another state and a party was thrown that included children, I brought her to that too.  On the way there, I realized that I hadn't told her something about this friend and wasn't sure how she'd react. As a teacher, you learn to navigate the tricky waters of students' families' views, prejudices, and beliefs.  If you tell a child that what their mother or grandmother believes is wrong or prejudicial, you're probably fighting a losing battle, as this is what they've grown up with and most likely internalized.  I've found it better to get them thinking for themselves, and have managed to fight some fairly entrenched prejudices, mostly racial, by doing this. I thought about this as I prepared to have this conversation with my Little Sister about this friend.  I thought I was going to have to talk about whether o...

Today I get to write about something encouraging. A few months ago, one of my former students' families had a house fire.  Everyone in their family got out OK, but they lost everything.  EVERYTHING. His fourth grade teacher who is still at the same school (I had him in third grade) found out and told me and our best volunteer ever about it.  Between the three of us and our friends, we managed to get the word out and get donations of furniture, clothing, gift cards, and money, people to move stuff (including two professional movers), and basically enough furnishings to fill up a 4 or 5 bedroom house. When we were moving stuff in and since, the student's mom has expressed gratitude to me and the other teacher.  What I told her is what I'd like to share here: it wasn't me.  I can't speak for how the other two people got their donations but I just asked my friends.  My friends (and acquaintances, and in some case, friends of friends) just gave.  Th...

I've been struggling to explain white privilege to a few people lately.  It's easy to think of the idea as just another type of racism - of course I don't have any extra privilege because I'm white - that would be racist!  We're all colorblind here!  Unfortunately, white privilege is very real, has been studied, and affects many people in a variety of negative ways, including white people. I can walk through an expensive clothing store and not be followed.  I can buy bandages that are my skin color.  I don't have to worry that if a landlord doesn't accept my application, it's because of my race or skin color.  I can behave badly, and not have someone chalk that up to my race or have to feel like I'm representing everyone who looks like me. Those are only some of the examples I've thought of.  There are more here and many other places online.  It's easy for me to think of ways that I get treated differently (not usually in a good way) bec...

Some adults find it hard to talk to children.  While I'm not advocating talking to strange children (well, they're all strange, I actually mean strangers talking to children), there is a secret I've learned if you ever need to have a conversation with your college roommate's kid or your boss's children. If you ever want to get a child to talk, bring up birthdays.  Specifically their birthday.  A birthday is the one subject that every single child is absolutely enamored with because it revolves around them. You won't even have to ask much - just ask them when their birthdays are and most kids will be off and running.  Shyer kids might take a little more prompting, which is when you bring up cake or presents or birthday parties. One of the first things I always did in my classroom was to make a birthday chart.  They have fancy ones at the teacher supply stores, but you can get any kind of calendar or posterboard and just write down names and birthdays. (This ...

My "Little Sister" wrote this.  She is nine years old, in fourth grade, and has been through far too much already.                                                                  My Dream   Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream that there would be equality and peace. Dr. King wanted his children not to be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.   I have a dream that when I grow up I can go to college and work very hard so I could get a great job, and live a long, happy and harmless life.   I hope and pray that I won’t get killed or die early.   I have a dream that none of my family will be killed ...

I tutor a 7-year old English-speaking child who is in a Spanish immersion first grade.  She didn't do Spanish immersion kindergarten so she's a little behind but she's really smart.  However, she doesn't really like to pay attention and is having a hard time sort of buying into her new class, so that's been the challenge. The other day, I was at her house when she came in limping and crying and being very dramatic about her fall from a tree. She wouldn't stop talking about how much it hurt (she forgot to cry when I gave her a sticker so I don't think it hurt all that much) so I told her how to say it in Spanish. This child really really likes singing so she started humming and singing "me duele, it hurts me, me duele it hurts."  Sensing an opportunity, I taught her the names of some of the body parts.   Pretty soon her song went something like this: Me duele la cabeza Me duele, it hurts Me duele el brazo Me duele, it hurts Me duele, me...

I have always felt an incredible amount of sadness not only for the victims of violence, but for the perpetrators.  Much (probably most) of the violence where I used to teach was both aimed at and committed by young men and I always felt (and feel; sadly, the violence has not abated) just as devastated for the people who took a life as for those who lost theirs. I understand why people may not agree with me; especially those who have lost loved ones to violence.  But I see these kids when they are just that, kids, and I know them sometimes before they do this.  I've been there when they're scared because they can't control their temper, when they feel such a strong desire for revenge that they can't see any other option, and when they are violent and bullying because that's all they've ever known.  And I think that is just as much of a tragedy as someone dying - it's just a different way of someone losing their life. Ever since I started teaching where ...

I have been traveling in India for the last two weeks so I apologize for the lack of blogging, but here are some lovely photos to tide you all over while I adjust back to my own time zone.  

My newest blog from Teaching Tolerance !

That's the name that my student gave to this exerpt she wrote in her 8th grade creative writing class.  I think it sums up writer's block quite well. Trying to Write I held the pen in my hand. The feel of the clean, smooth surface of the wood against my skin. I stared at the blank crisp sheet of pure white paper, which sat on my desk waiting to fill. My mind is blank as always. I could never think, it was as if my ideas float away out of my mind and into the world to get blown away. Crumpled sheets of paper litter the floor with my dark blue pen marks on it.