May 11, 2011

To Be Seen

They stared into the eyes of a child. Two eyes, oppressed by hunger, slavery, and abuse, stared listlessly back into the eyes of my students. When my freshman English class dragged their feet to their desks, they were expecting nothing other than the usual classroom routine.
 
Their listless expressions changed to curious glances as they realized that day was going to be different.
 
As a junior language arts education major, I had been given the opportunity to teach poetry for two weeks at Southeast High School in Lincoln, Nebraska. One of the goals of teaching is to make what you teach applicable to the lives of the students. During that week my class had discussed several different themes from poems. They discussed their dreams, their journeys, and their memorable moments. On this day their eyes were opened to another theme: freedom and oppression.
 
Arranged on several desks in front of the classroom were pictures. When the bell rang, I called on the students to come forward and choose a picture. Each picture contained the face of a child. Some pictures were of children from Uganda; others were from Taiwan, Iraq, and the Holocaust. Each picture showed a form of oppression.
 
As students stared into the eyes of their child, I shared the story of children in Uganda. As I read an excerpt from The Forgotten Children, by Vernon Brewer, I watched as my students heard for the first time about the children who walk miles every night to escape the terrors of civil war. My students heard about the abuse, the assault, and the fear kids their age live with every day. These were children not very different from themselves. They had dreams. They had journeys. They had moments, too.
 
What Now?
After I closed the book, I looked into the eyes of my students and began to speak. “Who can name different ways people are oppressed?” I asked.
 
2011 1513 page22Answers such as “being grounded,” “unable to be happy,” and “unable to be safe” were written on the chalkboard. We discussed these and other forms of oppression. I could see that my students had never talked about this before. Looking into their faces, I knew I had their attention.
 
Our list grew as the discussion increased. We also spoke of freedom. “Who can tell me different types of freedom people have?”
 
Freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and the right to be happy were answers I heard. Freedoms they had taken for granted seemed more valuable.
 
Before coming to class that day, many of the students had had no idea about some of these issues. Words such as amnesty, oppression, bondage, and liberty weren’t spoken in their everyday conversation at their yellow lockers. Like many, they were unaware.
“Look after orphans and widows in their distress” (James 1:27).
 
Taking It to the Streets
Hundreds of eyes looked straight ahead. Focus, determination, and resolve filled the faces of hundreds who walked down the road. Traffic stopped to watch as we crossed the street.
 
Backpacks, sleeping bags, and pillows were in our arms as we walked toward the state capitol. We marched because in another place, in another town, others marched.
 
On April 29 a few years ago people from across the United States marched to raise awareness for the children of Uganda. Every night these children leave their homes and families to journey to towns miles away. They march because they have no other choice. They march for their lives.
 
Every night they sleep crowded on top of each other in bus stations, alleyways, and abandoned buildings. These accommodations are unpleasant, but compared to the alternative—serving as a child soldier, becoming a sex slave, and/or losing their lives—it is worth sleeping in these conditions.
 
Like many, when I first heard the story of the “Invisible Children,” I was stunned. I’d had no idea. I wanted to do something, anything. So on April 29, I joined thousands across the nation, walked to the state capitol, and slept on the street. Our eyes were focused on children oceans away who went to sleep that night not feeling the safety of their home and family.
 
“Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine” (Matt. 25:40).
Seeing Clearly
The eyes of my students were opened on that April morning. They were presented with an issue, a problem. I looked at them all as their eyes seemed to ask, “What can we do?”
I handed them materials for writing letters for Amnesty International. I explained how Amnesty fights for the freedoms and rights of oppressed people everywhere. On this day my freshmen had the chance to do the same.
 
As they wrote their letters, their eyes looked straight ahead. Focus, determination, and resolve filled the 25 faces of students who were doing something.
 
One of my students wrote the following reflection:
 
“I liked class yesterday because it seemed like the first time in a classroom we talked about something real. Even though our problems aren’t as big, it’s better talking about stuff like that than just sitting there not caring about anything. I just liked it better because for once it was like someone actually cared about our opinions and what we had to say. Just like we had to care.”
 
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Elizabeth Haney lived in Hitchcock, Oklahoma, when this was written. This article was published May 12, 2011.

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