Author Archives: Taylor Jackson

Dear Consuelo

Posted on by under education, photography

education, photography

Dear Consuelo,

On October 22 of my first year of teaching, I bandaged blisters on both of my heels after a long day of school. Physical injuries don’t last as long as sores on your soul, though, do they? When I think back to this day, I know that I would do it all over again for you if it would help your heart mend.

Making copies in the front office, I glanced out the window. Coach was instructing the class to run laps for the last 5 minutes of P.E. on the basketball court.

9:11 a.m.: I noticed an unusual amount of attention on you. Alex was red-faced, and I could even hear his voice inside.

“Come on, Consuelo!”

Concerned and curious, I finished my copies and walked outside.

“Again!” Coach bellowed and blew the whistle.

Each of your teammates started sprinting around the basketball court, except you.

Colin screamed, “Run, Consuelo, run!”

“What wrong with you, girl?” Jada yelled from across the court.

9:12 a.m.: Coach checked his watch. Mia was the last to stumble to Coach at the end of the court. You were still standing with your back against the chain link fence.

“We are one team and one family. We will run again until every single teammate runs a lap in less than 60 seconds.” Coach blew the whistle again.

Chaos swelled to a feverish pitch. I actually thought a few of the boys were going to post up and come after you. Suddenly, I found myself at your side. The tears in your eyes splashed onto my red wedges.

“Oh Miss, I’m sorry –”

“Consuelo, if I run this lap, will you run with me?”

I was nervous, unsure if you would move, and worried that Coach would make your class run until a fight broke out.

“We have 41 seconds left. Will you run with me? I don’t want to run by myself!” – I said.

Your eyes widened, looking at my shoes, my pencil skirt, and the clipboard in my hand.

“39 seconds. Let’s do this! Together.”

Yes, I know my hair looked “nappy” the rest of the day (thanks to J.J. for that description) and my outfit was a little wrinkled. But seeing you smile, just a little, through those tears and watching you work up the courage to jog alongside me made it absolutely worth it.

Now here we are, one year later, and you are still running endless laps surrounded by the agitated taunts of a new class of 11 and 12 year-olds. Where has your stubborn spirit taken you, Consuelo? You are still on that basketball court, only you’re 13 now, the oldest in the 6th grade. You cannot afford to drag your feet and refuse to work anymore. You did not perform academically last year, piddling with your schoolwork, and devastatingly, you failed every class.

When we divided up rosters this year, I requested you in my homeroom. We’re running this lap together, you and I, sixth grade, round two. This year, we’re going to run for the feel of the wind and the joy of hard work bursting in our lungs.

Right next to you every step of the way.

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson

Dear Jeremiah

Posted on by under education, humor, photography

education, photography

Dear Jeremiah,

I’m sorry I drank your Capri Sun. I was angry, and I was thirsty.

From the moment you walked into class, I could tell that you were being sneaky. I noticed an odd bulge in your sweatshirt and a mischievous look in your eyes. When I asked you if you had something hidden in your shirt, I could tell that you were not being truthful. You avoided my eyes, looked down at the floor and shrugged your shoulders.

Then, to my vindicated delight, when you stuck both of your hands in the air to symbolize that you were hiding nothing, the motion caused your Capri Sun to dislodge from its hiding place and slide to the ground.

Admittedly, I should not have picked up your Capri Sun, unwrapped the straw and slurped the sweet juice in front of you and your classmates. That was unprofessional and unkind. I took it too far, and I am sorry.

I trust that in the future, you will not sneak food or a drink into my classroom.

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson

P.S. – check your backpack after school. I couldn’t remember if the Capri Sun was Mountain Cooler or Pacific Cooler flavor, so I bought you one of each. Do not (I repeat do not!) drink these until you get home.

Dear Michael

Posted on by under education, photography

education, photography, reading

Dear Michael,

You need to believe with every fiber of your being that you are an intelligent young man. I know that reading is a challenge for you, but that certainly doesn’t mean that you are “dumb” or “stupid.”

When I look at you – finger to the text, training your eyes and your mind to sound out the words you don’t yet know how to pronounce – I picture Jonas from The Giver. You have this ability to see beyond the words on the page. In some ways you’re limited by years of neglect from teachers who have passed you along without equipping you with the reading skills you need. And yet, every day I watch as you push yourself to overcome these limitations, gleaning the information you need to be successful from listening, observing, and applying your life experience to class.

Your comment in class today is a great example of your intelligence and thoughtfulness.

Me: “What makes Kira different from the other people in her village?”

You: “Hey Miss, could we say ‘unique’ instead of ‘different’? Different sounds negative to me, and Kira isn’t different in a bad way, you know? I mean she’s crippled, but she’s unique in good ways too, right?”

It’s not often a student who is reading on a 2nd grade level thoughtfully critiques a question I pose in class. You are a leader in my classroom, though I don’t think you see yourself that way.

When I call on you to read aloud in front of the class, I see you cringe with dread. But I also see Jerome, Lamar and Romone sit up straight in their desks and retrain their eyes on the story when you begin to read. Your courage inspires other hesitant readers to participate. The students in this classroom admire you. They want to do what you do.

Thank you for your leadership and your bravery. With perseverance and grit, reading will get easier. You will learn to read comfortably and fluently this year as long as you don’t give up on yourself and on the work I am giving you.

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson

Dear Isabella

Posted on by under education, photography

education, photography

Dear Isabella,

You are no one’s property. Go to the restroom, and scrub those filthy words off your arm.

I’m less concerned about the Sharpie; it will come off with of lots of soap and water. What worries me is the meaning behind the words, and what this says about how you think of yourself.

Love is not ownership, and you are not a possession to be had.

Tonight for homework, I’m assigning you an extra myth to read. Not as a punishment, but certainly as a lesson. Write a five-paragraph essay answering the following question: According to the myth of Demeter and Persephone, did Hades or Demeter love Persephone more? Is it more loving to cling tightly to someone or to let her go?

You have a 98 average in my class after Tuesday’s test. You are too smart to believe that you are an 11-year-old boy’s property. If you will not hold yourself to a high standard, I will.

All my love,

Ms. Jackson

Dear Lincoln

Posted on by under education, photography

photography, education

Dear Lincoln,

If you have something to say, say it loud and clear. Stand up and speak up for what you believe in. We are done with the cowardly comments huffed under your breath and the incessant whispers to your friends.

Let me be very straightforward. I’m not angry that you have been repeatedly murmuring the word “racist” in my classroom. I’m upset that you’re not saying it louder.

I want you to call out racism. Point a finger in its hideous face and say what you really think. We need voices that will bravely demand an explanation for actions that oppress and harm others. What we do not need is a kid who’s trying to raise a reaction in my classroom or get a high five from his best friend by whispering the word “racist” every time anyone says “black,” “brown, or “white” to describe someone’s skin color.

Don’t hide behind jokes and whispers. It’s time to grow up and become a young man who can articulate his thoughts and beliefs in a way that challenges and inspires others. Call out injustice and discrimination when you see it. And I hope you see it, because it is all around you.

Let’s call out the fact that due to years of oppression and lack of opportunity you, as a young Black man from Oak Cliff, have a much greater chance of going to prison than college. That sir, is a result of racism.

I want you to boldly talk about how angry it makes you feel that there is a racial divide in Dallas. You have every right to be mad, because you don’t have the same opportunities as a 12-year-old student growing up in North Dallas.

Discuss the fact that I am one of four White people you have met in your entire life. It’s ok to say that I’m White. It’s not racist to acknowledge the color of my skin. I’m not offended. But I am angry.

I am angry that you would rather waste your breath being the funny guy than say those same words with conviction and purpose. Honor your heritage. Live up to the greatness that you come from. Be a young man who fights injustice and oppression, not a boy who makes empty objections and distracting jokes.

If you see, hear or experience racist language or actions, call it out. All other distracting and silly side comments are not welcome in my classroom.

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson

Dear Denzel

Posted on by under education, photography

education, photography

Dear Denzel,

Since the first day of school, your raised hand, waiving impatiently back and forth in the middle of my lesson signaled that you were about to issue a complaint:

It’s hot in here, Miss!

I don’t feel like doin’ work today.

I’m bored.

I’m hungry. When do lunch start?

Truthfully, I had become so exasperated with your lethargic attitude that I thought you were completely tuning out my teaching.

Today you changed your attitude and my mind about calling on you. By refocusing all your energy from complaining, into searching the story for figurative language, you became a simile sleuth! Throughout class, I couldn’t help but smile to see your hand waving excitedly in the air, because I knew you weren’t going to ask about lunch but that you were prepared to share the meaning behind a metaphor.

And that was only the start of your awesomeness. When I made a mistake in the notes and switched the definitions of simile and metaphor, you did not suck your teeth, call out or argue. You set an amazing example for your classmates by silently raising your hand and waiting for me to call on you.

Thank you for saving me from teaching simile and metaphor incorrectly all day. I am proud of you, Simile Sleuth/ Metaphor Man!

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson

Dear Elisa

Posted on by under education, photography

education, photography

Dear Elisa,

You are more than beautiful. You are brilliant and kindhearted.

Lately, you’ve been masking the intelligent and compassionate side of yourself under a layer of blush and mascara.

I noticed that you’re sitting with a different group of friends at lunch. I worry that you’re trying so hard to fit someone else’s definition of beauty that you are forgetting the truest parts of yourself.

The first two weeks of school, you earned A’s and B’s on every assignment. More recently, you haven’t been turning in completed work, and your quiz score last Friday was a low C. Today, I had to call home when I saw you doodling Julian’s name on your binder instead of taking notes.

Boys notice a pretty face, but they fall in love with a clever and kind spirit. If beauty is your highest pursuit, you are limiting yourself. You can be so much more than just another cute girl. You can be a knockout, a bombshell, a powerful young woman who wears her brilliance and kindness in an irresistible way.

The secret to true and lasting beauty is confidence in who you are, not how you look.

You are beautiful, and you are so much more.

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson

Dear Joshua

Posted on by under education, photography

education, photography

Dear Joshua,

You do not get to decide that you are a bad kid. Not this year. Not in my classroom.

I don’t believe there is such a thing as a bad kid or a good kid. Calling yourself a bad kid is an excuse to make poor decisions, and I will not hear it. You, and every other student I teach, are just a kid. Everyone makes good and bad decisions each day. We are all a combination of good and bad, and we have to choose to let the best parts of ourselves surface more often than the darker side.

Your question this morning intrigued and upset me:

Hey Miss, I just don’t get it. Why you chose to teach the bad kids in the bad neighborhood and put up with all my disrespect every day?

It is not important that I chose to be a teacher. The question you should ask yourself is why I choose to teach every day: in our school, in our community, in our neighborhood. Because it is a choice, you’re right. I made that choice, and I continue to make it each day.

I also made a decision to teach the book Maniac Magee. I recognize that it seems like I am on the “wrong side of town” just like Jeffrey Magee. I have seen the confusion on the faces of most of your classmates when we talk about why someone with skin the color of copy paper wants to stand up in front of a room full of different skin tones and say words like “Black,” “Brown,” and “White.” Yes, I have seen you mouth the word “racist” when we talk about the White side of town and the Black side of town in the book.

I want you to think about this tonight as you do your homework (which is to read chapter 8 of Maniac Magee; please don’t forget to complete this assignment). Ask yourself this: Why Ms. Jackson chose and continues to choose to teach you, Joshua. No, I didn’t say the bad kids, and I didn’t say the Black kids, and I didn’t say the Brown kids, I said you. Why do you think I made that choice? How do you see yourself and your classmates? How do you think I view you?

Aristotle once said, “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” I would add that disrespect is also a habit. Considering yourself a “bad kid” and writing off your neighborhood as a bad place to live and go to school is a habit of thinking. What if you repeatedly chose to label yourself differently?

Lately, you have been in the habit of making bad decisions. You are not a bad kid, but your choices matter immensely. What if you started choosing to act differently?

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson