Every now and again, an OUTSTANDING professor hopes that a teaching moment just falls out of the sky. However, for many of us non-traditional scholars, we have learned that sometimes it's better to dodge certain topics. Inevitably, there are certain topics where students, or the outside world, catches us off guard and once again, our race or gender is forefronted. When will I ever just be able to teach the subject-matter?

For instance, the first day of class, in the middle of my fabulous (I was on my A-game) introduction to Dewey, a student raises his hand and shares with the class that "Diversity would cause the destruction of our nation!"

Okay. I am truly dumbfounded, because we are discussing Dewey's 1897 selection my Pedagogic Creed. And, "I don't even know where you are coming from with these comments, since I only met you once before this class," I think to myself. "Is this a challenge? Is he trying to see if I am going to lose my composure? Maybe this is a test to see if I am going to tell him, he is wrong, and you must digest my politics to survive this class?"

Then, the student informs the class that his professor, whom studies ecology, told him this before. So, he informs the class "Well, before I rejected what he was saying, but now I believe him."

Here we go again, I think. What the male student should have said upfront is: Well, my white male professor, who is a real scientist, knows more than your black female azz could ever know.

My response, as I waddle in the other students' silence (and their looks of what is this dude's problem), is "Yes, there is a school of thought out there that believes diversity is a bad thing for our social world. I suggest you do some more research on the topic." Whew, I dodged that torpedo like a pro, without even blinking an eye.

Now, back to Dewey...I can't help but wonder if Dewey would have agreed with that line of defense. How would have Dewey responded to the comment that diversity is detrimental to the free world? Don't worry brother Dewey, I have another teachable moment to ponder. 

It was just announced in the local and national news (on-line, in print, and television) that a noose was hung on the university campus where I teach. I pass the site everyday. The president has made a public announcement, with the following message, "This is an isolated incident and not reflective of our university's climate." In other words, lets squash the subject.

The university president's (a brotha) response takes care of the media, but how does it take care of me, other faculty of color, students of color, and those on campus who are committed to social justice initiatives. How do we or should we approach "the noose" as a topic of discussion in the classroom. Tomorrow is the anniversary of "9/11" (lets deduce it to a numeric concept, taking away the emotionality of the event). I can address that in my social foundations class, and every other professor is encouraged to address the historical event. But, I still haven't been given any direction, as to whether to address the noose hung outside of the building where my class is located.

Would Dewey and Freire suggest I approach the topic? Is it aligned with critical pedagogy (I know the answer to this question)? How do I facilitate course discussion around a topic that will certainly forefront my race? Who benefits from this discussion? Pre-service teachers? The professor (me)? Or, the future students these young people will one day encounter?

The truth is, growing up and living in the midwest, I am really numb to racial attacks. When I first heard of the noose incident while watching the local news, I thought to myself, "Okay." It was the same reaction I had to the young man making the non-relevant, anti-diversity comment in class. Or, was the comment relevant? Hell is the noose relevant? Maybe it's not relevant to me. Maybe it's not relevant to my majority white students. Does the university owe me an apology? Does the noose matter to teacher education? Does the noose matter to pedagogies grounded in Freiren or Deweyan thought? How did I become numb to so-called "Isolated incidence" of visual violence? And, how does all of the aforementioned effect my pedagogy as a female scholar of color.