"We shall walk together on this path of life, for all things are part of the universe and are connected with each other to form one whole unity."

-Maria Montessori

I was standing in our kitchen when our 18-year-old son told me about George Floyd. It is not a moment I will forget. I admit, I am often head-down, plunging into the next task around here. The news—any news—is hard for me to absorb. And this news, of a white policeman senselessly killing a black man, makes me so upset and makes me want to separate myself from the ugliness of racism. But these feelings, however real, do not help produce change in the world.

I am white and have lived a very privileged life. I have been one of those white people who has been afraid to talk about racism. Guilt, embarrassment, and confusion are familiar feelings to me around the subject of race and racism, despite my also very strong conviction, honest goodwill, and deep belief in living a life that respects all human beings. Yet, it is because of my desire to contribute to a just world for all children that I am committed to learning and moving past fears.

I have seen the difference in my own two children. Our 18-year-old son mobilized unhesitatingly to walk in the peaceful protest in Evanston last Sunday, and our 16-year-old daughter was outspoken about the reactions to the events and comments, or lack of, that she witnessed. They are growing up more aware of their surroundings and ways of identifying and discussing racism than my husband or I did. We started them off with core values at home and chose high schools with more diversity than either of us experienced. In their most formative years they attended Montessori school, where children learn to cooperate with others instead of compete, to include one another and collaborate, to be curious and empathetic. With the plasticity of youth, it is natural for children and adolescents to seek to understand the issues of today; they are prepared to put their beliefs into their actions and confident enough to speak up, to listen to others, to self-evaluate.

But more important, we adults also have to change and grow. We will make mistakes and we won’t always get it right, but we can get better. We have to take responsibility for our own selves and for our individual participation.

If you don’t believe that, now is the time to get curious and investigate. Because adults miss out on something great, and we even add to the hurt, whether consciously or not, when we stay mentally fixed. Don’t be someone who thinks they’ve got it all figured out. No one really does, and that’s the truth life constantly teaches us. To be truly compassionate, we have to stay open to hearing others, to really listen, and to seek ways we can support positive change. We have to take action, and that begins with examining ourselves.

Last year, I read a book that deeply moved me, The Sun Does Shine. It is the harrowing account of Anthony Ray Hinton’s 30 years of imprisonment on death row. He had nothing to do with the crime and was nowhere near where it happened. But it was easy to convict him and leave him in jail; he was black and lived in Alabama. He was finally proved to be innocent and freed in 2015. Can you imagine surviving that?! It is a possibility that exists for too many in our world. I was so deeply impacted by this book; the author had invited me into his world and for the first time, I saw a new reality, one I had previously known nothing about. I tried to get everyone around me to read it.

This fall, I listened to Malcom Gladwell read his book Talking to Strangers on audible. It begins with Sandra Bland, a 28-year-old African American woman, originally from Chicago, leaving a job interview in which she had just been hired in Texas. Sandra is followed by a state trooper, who comes so close to her car she changes lanes to allow him to pass. She is pulled over for changing lanes without signaling. The video recorded exchange results in her being pulled from her car and arrested. Sandra hanged herself in a jail cell several days later. This was 2015. True story, and not the only one. How does such a thing happen, Gladwell asks. How does one go from innocently changing lanes and failing to signal, to being in jail? And where did her absolute despair originate? The uncomfortable reality is that for a black woman who is treated without basic respect numerous times over her lifetime and who is living in a society where the expectations for just treatment do not apply to her, the insults accumulate. I cried through it. I couldn’t stop thinking about Sandra Bland. It changed my perspective.

At Montessori conferences in the past few years, the conversation about equity has become ever-present. The Association Montessori Internationale, the American Montessori Society, the International Montessori Council, Montessori For Social Justice, and the Montessori Public Policy Initiative give us particularly good speakers, resources, and education about equity and inclusion for Montessori teachers and administrators. They are asking us to consider how we can make real a world where our children—all of our children—will experience equity. For those in diverse communities or minority communities, the topic often rises quickly to relevance, one way or another. But in communities like Lake Bluff and Lake Forest, we have to make more of an effort to talk about race, equity, and inclusion. Our children cannot always see our beliefs on the topic in action on a daily basis. We need to create productive spaces to discuss these complexities. I have been told very bluntly that NOT talking about things is a mistake—and always a lost opportunity for our children and ourselves. In the absence of a parent talking about equity, children can too easily fill in the blanks with another person’s comment or behavior.

How Can Parents Help Their Children?

Start with good books that depict children with different skin tones, from various backgrounds, who practice different religions and customs, and from other regions of the world. Reading such books with young children familiarizes them with others and gives them the reference and language that you value all people, not just the kinds of people in your own neighborhood. Teach your children that all people matter to you—that there are ways these beliefs are reinforced in our language, actions, and society. And until black and brown and all minority individuals are treated as equal to white people, verbalize your support.

As a teacher, I’ll never forget a six-year-old saying one day to the group in my Montessori Elementary class, “Today, our brothers and sisters in Mexico are celebrating Day of the Dead!” This boy was white, part Italian, and had no literal brothers or sisters in Mexico, but I knew his mother used such terms of endearment with him and his siblings regularly. It was a moment of joyful empathy that all the children recognized easily. It raised their curiosity. It was started simply by a mother using language of kindness and empathy. Whatever comes most naturally to you, start with what you know and feel, and then deliberately share your care for other human beings and their experiences. It can be gradual and it can be gentle. But start. Start wherever you are.