When the school librarian told me that “To Kill a Mockingbird” was deemed too unsafe for 6th graders at my middle school, I apologized, closed the book, and did not dare touch it again for another two years.
Ironically, for school districts and educational policymakers in the U.S., student safety and effective learning have not necessarily been presented as mutually exclusive values– however, recent calls for book bans in U.S. public schools have packaged access to literature in a false binary, with pressuring calls that one must be sacrificed for the other.
While many have raised concerns about student mental and physical safety on campus, uncensored literature provides nuanced contextualization of social concepts beyond the classroom, brings light to untold stories of marginalized communities, and trains students in practical values and interpersonal soft skills that carry over into their adult life.
Despite the fact that many books subject to bans handle sensitive social topics, this value makes it all the more important to handle such literature in pre-college classrooms. As opposed to a brute force approach of merely dropping books for all grades, students in their developmental years need sensitive, extensive approaches to rigorous and respectful analysis of said content under the guidance of a qualified teacher.
Then-high-school-junior and now-Harvard-undergrad Sungjoo Yoon also disagrees with an oversimplified approach to the controversy: “I acknowledged that Black students were being marginalized in our classrooms… but did not think that it was the fault of these books or their content…the solution was not to remove the books but to add books written by people of color and to better train teachers to teach these books sensitively to students”.
Learning to conscientiously break down and maturely discuss narratives like racism against oppressed peoples of the past is far more important than temporarily shielding uncomfortable conversations and several angry phone calls in the classroom.
Experiences in the playground, at lunch, in family settings, and in the broader society are not as much molded by the content themselves as much as if and how they are presented. Students not well-guided and essentially unexposed to those interpretation strategies miss out on discussions with peers on some of the most pressing societal problems of the day, a requisite to any responsible school curriculum. Ultimately, permanent banning of sensitive material entirely removes classroom environments where these educational conversations can take place.
Beyond this foundation of teaching all demographics of students alike to responsibly approach potentially provocative content, stories of marginalized communities are disproportionately more likely to be locked out of the library. In a nation with diverse groups and minority populations that have historically significant stories to share, student education is notably limited when the stories they hear from family and community members are different or nonexistent in the narratives being taught within the four classroom walls.
With book bans increasingly targeting stories about oppression against minority groups, “people with lived experiences that differ from what’s taught in the classroom, presented in a summer reading list…can feel outcast, ostracized, and alone…” (Publish Your Purpose).
When students do not come across aspects of their heritage, background, culture, community, or any other defining aspect of their identity in public schools, educators and policymakers risk sending an implicit message to these groups that their stories are not worth sharing in American society. Without adopting an all-inclusive policy – emotional or dense, racist or non-sensitive – for which stories get to be told, side effects can range from societal exclusion to an unintentionally fostered sense of inferiority in students’ communities beyond school.
On the other hand, many have pointed out that exposing students to offensive, discriminatory, or potentially dangerous content could guide youth in the wrong direction, hurting not only their schooling years but the trajectory of how they choose to live their lives.
From historically offensive terms referring to groups of people to inappropriate or irresponsible personalities appearing in books, a common fear is that children may have difficulty differentiating right from wrong: “They commonly fear that these publications will present ideas, raise questions and incite critical inquiry among children that parents, political groups, or religious organizations are not ready to address or that they find inappropriate” (Webb).
Uncomfortable discussions and premature exposure to harmful content can be awkward and indeed harmful for parents, students, and societal groups alike. However, while some students may still project unfavorable aspects of a character or storyline into their own lives, banning books entirely for all age groups actually increases the likelihood of such behavior. In reality, all of the students will come into contact with the words or ideas that are being shielded from them, whether this event comes in their pre-college years at a public, uncensored library or after they graduate.
When students no longer have the choice to opt out of such important conversations as an adult, those skills untaught in school can make for some rather unpleasant and potentially detrimental (for both the grown students and those around them) interactions. In fact, by having been stripped of their right to such sensitive yet crucial information at a young age, “entering the world after high school could be a rude awakening for them as well if they are unprepared for the realities that other people face… they might have a hard time dealing with the fact that most people are different from them” (Knipe).
Quickly, the issue escalates from protecting students against unfavorable content into a lack of awareness and empathy. Essentially, the significance of reading these books comes not only in its academic value but also in its instrumental role as a developmental tool for social and emotional success. It is time to trust students and educators to begin these literary conversations about our world early on.
I never did get to read that book, “To Kill a Mockingbird”, in middle school: it stayed stowed away under my bed for another two years, until I learned the librarian had not entirely been correct in her beliefs. It taught me valuable lessons, not about those words that that librarian had feared I’d come across, but about friendship, trust, and society to an extent no other literary work has done for me.
By providing nuanced context for social issues that are far too critical for the upcoming generations, inclusively telling stories of all communities, and guiding students in interpersonal discussion skills, full access to books ensures that students do not miss out on lessons of life that no experience as an adult could replace.
