Our nation is on edge in the wake of recent tragedies, wounded by political violence and deeply divided over the limits and role of speech. It is hard this month—but also this year, this decade, and beyond—to imagine healing the political divides that plague our country. No wonder, then, that I recently heard of a parent who, envisioning the year ahead, said her one hope was that her child would learn to talk to people with whom she disagreed.
Parents have good reason to hope their children will learn to speak civilly and productively with those across political or ideological divides, and educators want this for their students. It is my strong belief, though, that to deliver these skill sets, we adults need to sharpen them ourselves. Teachers must become the bridge-building models their students will emulate.
Research confirms what simple intuition would suggest: that we need to get to know the people with whom we disagree. Studies find personal stories to be more persuasive than facts, and researchers behind Stanford University’s Strengthening Democracy Challenge found that political animosity is eased by exposing people to the stories of likeable folks from across the aisle. The strategy works in the lab, and it works in real life.
I know, because I have led teachers through the practice of sharing stories across the political divide. In my final year at Brookwood School in Massachusetts, school leaders brought together, with me as facilitator, teachers who were willing to gather and listen carefully to the narratives of their colleagues. You might call these “political origin stories”—tales of forming worldviews—about which attendees could then ask follow-up questions and reflect what they had heard (I go into greater detail in my book, Learning to Depolarize).
Those who shared stories felt rejuvenated and buoyed by the experience, while many of those who listened found themselves similarly refreshed. “Listening became a gift,” said one attendee of the gatherings. “Colleagues left the space excited and invigorated by our exchanges,” said another. The feedback was overwhelmingly positive.
This past school year, I joined the Civi Coalition, a network of public school educators in western New York, to lead a similar activity. During the second half hour of monthly, virtual meetings, attendees could choose to join the “bridging” breakout room, featuring an educator sharing their political origin stories—linked to family members or lessons learned in college or the pressure to conform to the expectations of a political tribe. As had been the case with the gatherings at Brookwood, those who shared felt validated and unburdened, while those who listened came to understand and respect those with whom they might have disagreed.
This model—of educators coming together in person or virtually to share with each other the origins of their political beliefs—is easily replicable, if unusual. It’s not hard to imagine the questions of those who would lead this activity—the curricular leaders within a school or district—or the teachers who would be invited to participate. Is it even professional development? Where is the pedagogical expert and the takeaway to implement Monday morning? Is it appropriate to talk about politics as a school activity? If so, what’s the point? Indeed, what I describe is unorthodox, but I would suggest that no one who observes our national condition could say that we educators are producing citizens who are equipped to reach across lines of disagreement to solve our seemingly intractable challenges. That work starts with us.
I would suggest that no one who observes our national condition could say that we educators are producing citizens who are equipped to reach across lines of disagreement.
If it does, the experience should adhere to a handful of principles: First, it should be voluntary. For a host of reasons, little good—and possibly a furious backlash—will come from forcing unwilling participants into an experience such as this. On the other hand, providing the opportunity for those who choose it is likely to spread seeds of growth beyond the initial cohort.
Second, it should be designed and promoted as primarily a listening exercise, rather than a “conversation.” We don’t need more opportunities to engage in unproductive back-and-forths across political divides, but we do need to discover the humanity in those with whom we disagree. We also need to practice the habits—such as listening—that we value in our students.
Third, the experience should be tightly structured to ensure the emphasis on listening, with a time limit imposed for the sharing of stories and with each step of the process laid out in advance and faithfully implemented by the moderator. Those steps should include a time for follow-up questions and a separate period to reflect on what attendees have learned. Affirmation comes from being met with questions of genuine curiosity as well as meaningful responses to the sharing of one’s story. And affirmation, in contrast to contempt, is a critical ingredient in softening lines of divide.
The cohort could be within a school, as it was at Brookwood, or it could connect teachers within some broader network, such as the Civi Coalition in New York. A prerequisite is some degree of political heterogeneity, and schools that find themselves loaded with teachers of one political stripe may be good candidates for the broader network approach. (I would also suggest, though, that the faculties at most schools are more politically diverse than they might appear; even a very small number of teachers in the political minority are enough—if they are willing participants—to help launch this sort of initiative).
What could come of it? A proper study might help us determine if we were achieving the outcomes we sought: to increase the appetite among teachers to engage across political divides and, consequently, wider and more purposeful implementation of measures to help students develop their own bridging tendencies. Until such a study materializes, experience tells me that providing a cross-cutting forum for teachers to share personal stories has the effect of bridging gaps. Equipped with the forum experience, those teachers will be more likely to help their students discover similar opportunities. At that point, we might just begin to meet the need, expressed by that parent I recently heard of, to teach kids how to talk with those with whom they disagree.
Many of us feel in our gut that the moment calls for a bridging mindset. Let’s also face the fact that this “moment” is not fleeting. For five years, I have worked full time to help today’s students ease tomorrow’s political polarization, and for five years, people have commented that my work is “timely.” Some act of political violence or some issue giving rise to angry contention has always reminded people of the need.
But let’s make the work timeless. If we truly hope for students to learn to talk with those with whom they disagree, let’s accept that challenge by building the foundation for such an outcome.
