The thought of moving to an unknown place where I will know absolutely no one is terrifying. Teaching jobs are nearly impossible to find these days. If I do find one, I have the sinking feeling it won't be here...the place where all my friends are...the place where I have my church family...the place that is home. Am I really willing to move my entire life to a new place and start over again? Honestly, no...I don't know...maybe...yes...no not really. What if the Lord told you to move? He would have to be supremely clear, and even then I think I would question it.
Maybe I should change my career field. Am I qualified enough? Would I actually be able to succeed? Will I even succeed in teaching? What if...
I hate change, everything about it. I hate how you don't have any control. I hate how it's unknown. It's uncomfortable...and I'm wondering if that's what I need. Complacency breeds contempt. Complacency is comfortable. I am comfortable in how life is, even though I am completely frustrated with where it is, it is comfortable. It is known. It's safe because it's predictable.
I don't want to be complacent! I don't want to be frustrated anymore! I want to be able to take a risk. Change something. Grow more and allow God to have the control.
But I'm terrified...
Showing posts with label color. Show all posts
Showing posts with label color. Show all posts
Friday, May 24, 2013
Friday, March 26, 2010
Colorblindness
This past week during my placement, I had an interesting conversation with one of my students. I don't remember a lot from our conversation, but there is something in particular that struck me. She had colorblindness. Now I don't mean this in the sense that she couldn't see colors, not at all. She is colorblind in the sense of skin color. While I am white, she is black. One day she came up to me and called me 'That's so Raven'. So I asked her if I looked like Raven. Her first response was yes, but then she thought about it for a second and said that I looked like Hannah Montana instead. Here is a little look at how parts of the conversation went.
Me: I don't look like Raven cause I'm too white, right?
T: No, but Raven is black.
Me: But that means I'm too white.
T: No.
Me: What are some differences between me and Raven?
(several differences were given)
T: Your hair is different.
Me: How is my hair different?
T: Well Raven always has her hair up.
Me: Oh, and isn't her hair longer than mine?
T: Yeah.
So why did I point out these particular points of the conversation? Well, this shows just how much skin color doesn't matter to this child. I kept telling her that I was white and therefore could not look like someone who is black because our skin color is so different (this was simply said to gauge what this child thought and not because it matters to me, because it doesn't really). However, this child did not see skin color as the deal breaker on whether I look like Raven or not. The hair is significant because my hair is different than hers. I was expecting her to say something about how the texture of Raven's and my hair is different. But nope, she didn't see it. It was amazing to see how a child who lives in a culture where the majority of people are the same race as her would not see the obvious differences between me, the white girl, and herself. The other reason it surprised me was because white kids would most likely tell me I didn't look like Raven because of my skin color. I know not all white kids would say this, but I have a feeling the majority would even if they didn't mean it in a mean way; skin color would be pointed out. So how come this child can't see the difference between my skin and hers, but many white children I've come into contact with would notice? I don't know.
Me: I don't look like Raven cause I'm too white, right?
T: No, but Raven is black.
Me: But that means I'm too white.
T: No.
Me: What are some differences between me and Raven?
(several differences were given)
T: Your hair is different.
Me: How is my hair different?
T: Well Raven always has her hair up.
Me: Oh, and isn't her hair longer than mine?
T: Yeah.
So why did I point out these particular points of the conversation? Well, this shows just how much skin color doesn't matter to this child. I kept telling her that I was white and therefore could not look like someone who is black because our skin color is so different (this was simply said to gauge what this child thought and not because it matters to me, because it doesn't really). However, this child did not see skin color as the deal breaker on whether I look like Raven or not. The hair is significant because my hair is different than hers. I was expecting her to say something about how the texture of Raven's and my hair is different. But nope, she didn't see it. It was amazing to see how a child who lives in a culture where the majority of people are the same race as her would not see the obvious differences between me, the white girl, and herself. The other reason it surprised me was because white kids would most likely tell me I didn't look like Raven because of my skin color. I know not all white kids would say this, but I have a feeling the majority would even if they didn't mean it in a mean way; skin color would be pointed out. So how come this child can't see the difference between my skin and hers, but many white children I've come into contact with would notice? I don't know.
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