Today’s post is the second in a series exploring how teachers should deal with potentially problematic language in books and articles.

‘Language Has a Lot of Power’

Jennifer Orr is in her third decade of teaching elementary school students in the suburbs of Washington. She is also the author of Demystifying Discussion: How to Teach and Assess Academic Conversation Skills, K-5 and the co-author, with Matthew Kay, of We’re Gonna Keep on Talking: How to Lead Meaningful Race Conversations in the Elementary Classroom:

Problematic language is something our students will encounter throughout their lives. Sometimes, that language will be aimed at them, sometimes, they’ll see it aimed at others. At times, it may seem innocuous or come across as no big deal. However, language has a lot of power, and it is not something we can ignore.

As one who teaches younger students, language is something I think about frequently. My students are listening, whether that is obvious to me or not, and everything I say and do is a model for them. Again, whether that is obvious to me or not. That is one major factor in my thinking about the language we see in books or videos or that we hear from others around us.

Another factor that results from the young ages of my students is that they may not always understand language that is problematic. It may be because they are young and have not yet encountered certain language, or it could be because language that I consider problematic may be in common usage in their home or community. It can also come from the way language evolves and how words or phrases that were acceptable have shifted to causing offense to some. (Having teenagers at home is a big help in keeping up with some of these shifts!)

I see my role not as sheltering my young students from problematic language but as helping them understand the meaning and impact such language can have on others. I do not seek out problematic language but work to address it when it shows up in our classroom and in my students’ lives.

One area in which this has occurred fairly frequently has been 4th grade social studies, which focuses on Virginia history. When looking at primary-source documents from Jamestown, from the colonial era, from the time of the Revolutionary War or the Civil War, or from the civil rights years, we encounter words describing groups of people. Much of that language is not acceptable now (and may not have truly been acceptable in that time).

Reading historical documents is a challenge for 10-year-olds in a lot of different ways, and we often do so together. This allows me to stop at language that may be unfamiliar to my students, as these words and phrases may be, and discuss the meaning, the impact, and why these words or phrases are not in common usage today.

As adults, whether it is as teachers or family members, we cannot control everything to which our students are exposed. When my oldest child began taking the bus daily in 6th grade, her vocabulary of swear words greatly increased! That led to some family discussions of how (and critically, when) those words should and could be used. I believe that is our role, to listen to our young people, to notice the language they’re hearing and trying on, and talk with them about it. We need to help them better understand the history of the language and the impact it might have on others if they use it.

‘I Listened’

Braxton Thornley is a technology trainer/instructor for the Utah Education Network (UEN) and an award-winning former high school language arts teacher from Salt Lake City. Follow him on X at @BraxtonThornley:

Before I began working for the Utah Education Network, I worked as a high school language arts teacher. One of my primary goals as a teacher was to get students reading—and preferably reading a lot.

I worked hard to grow and nurture readers in my classroom, and hard work it was. Studies, such as this one, regularly show downward trends in the number of teenagers regularly reading for fun, and the Pew Research Center has found similar declines in 9- to 13-year-olds. For this reason, I searched for literature capable of grabbing students by the shoulders and shaking them—literature capable of breaking their hearts.

But to read literature such as that is to read literature rooted in unabashed truth-telling about the rich complexities of the human experience. In short, the poems, stories, and books I needed as a teacher were those that engaged with the bad of humanity as much as the good. However, as dedicated as I was to exposing my students to writing that could inspire, I was equally dedicated to ensuring my classroom was a place of psychological and emotional safety for each of my students. I had to strike a balance.

In pursuit of that balance, I asked myself five questions before utilizing literature with strong content or language in class:

1. Are there equally compelling texts with similar themes, narrative structures, and perspectives I can use instead of this text?

2. What is the scope of our work with the text? Will students be required to engage with problematic content over the course of days or weeks, or is the problematic content brief and/or isolated to a specific portion of the text?

3. What is the purpose of the text as a whole? Does it seek to condemn the problematic content it portrays, or does the text seek to normalize or celebrate it?

4. Are there specific actions I can take as a teacher to preserve students’ psychological and emotional safety before, while, and/or after we engage with the text?

5. What alternative texts and activities can I provide for students—or students’ parents—who are uncomfortable with the text?

My responses to these questions would shape my decision to use, and how to use, the text in class. (It’s worth noting here that these decisions would often change year to year even when considering the same poem, story, or book.) At that point, if I decided to utilize a text with problematic language, I would begin generating plans in response to questions four and five.

In my experience, content warnings went a long way in reducing harm. Before engaging with longer texts in class, I would provide students with a brief synopsis of the text’s context (setting, characters, topics, etc.). This synopsis would also include brief content warnings, explanations of when we would encounter problematic content, and a short review of our classroom norms. After preparing my students for the text, I would provide their parents with the same details and encourage them to talk with their students about the text within the context of their beliefs and values.

This process would repeat, but with more specificity, on days when we were going to encounter problematic language during class, and I would always encourage my students to leave class at any point if they felt they needed to.

Perhaps most importantly, though, I would talk to my students about what we were reading. As a group, we would discuss why the problematic content was included in the text, what made it problematic, and what we could gain from seeing it presented in literature. On an individual basis, I would check in with my students by asking how they were responding emotionally to text and whether they felt comfortable with how it was being handled in class.

And, finally, I listened. I listened to my students, their parents, and my colleagues and tried to improve how I selected texts and dealt with their complexities. This listening made me a better teacher.

Teach Students ‘to Raise Their Voices’

Kara Pranikoff is a consultant and coach who supports educators in deepening their practice of inquiry-based teaching of social studies and writing:

We are in a new moment of connectivity. Information comes barreling toward us—from public signs to personal devices—at an unstoppable pace. Problematic messages are unavoidable.

Simultaneously, our more traditional, metered process of gathering information is being attacked. In 2023, the American Library Association (ALA) noted a 22% increase in book titles targeted for censorship in schools and libraries; the highest number ever recorded by the ALA in its over 20 years of data collection (though it appears to have fallen last year). The majority of these books were challenged because they were about or written by members of the BIPOC or LGBTQIA+ community.

How can our classrooms prepare students to traverse these competing realities?

A teacher curates, to the best of her ability, the materials that children learn from—the books they read, the primary sources they discuss, the videos they watch. In recent years, attention has been placed on utilizing materials to transform the perspective that has been typical in our country, one that prioritized the white, Eurocentric, able-bodied, neurotypical, cisgendered, and heterosexual view. Many educators prioritize materials that cultivate a more inclusive understanding of the world. In some places, these steps are exactly what fuels the uptick in censorship.

Real life is not curated. We would be remiss if we did not also teach our students how to respond to messages that are harmful.

We’ve all been there. You are reading a book aloud in your classrooms, your eyes scan to the coming sentences, and suddenly your stomach flips. Maybe the language is racist. Perhaps the author shares sexist views or dismisses people with disabilities. In the best instance, you’ve caught this issue at home on the couch as you prepare to teach. In truth, everyone has been caught in this sticky moment without preparation and had to respond to the students in front of them. Don’t panic. Instead, tune into your inner feelings and speak out.

I’m feeling uncomfortable with the words that this author is using. Is anyone else feeling this same way? These words and ideas feel harmful and at odds with a lot of the learning we have done in class this year. Let’s talk about what makes this problematic.

Work with your students to point out opposing views that you have studied this year or name the stereotype that the book leans on. You can check the publication date and consider the social context when the author was writing. This can be a chance to highlight the way our society has (or has not) progressed and the people and policies that work to create greater inclusion. (If you are nervous about responding without preparation, don’t worry, you can return to the text the next day to articulate to your students what was bothering you. Critical teaching has no time limit.)

Then take some action: Draft a letter to the author or publisher; write a response explaining your reaction; or even revise the text to be more inclusive. Develop a procedure for what students can do when they are confronted with harmful text. If it’s in the classroom, they can flag the book and respond with a sticky note so the next classmate who picks it up can consider their thoughts. The goal is to teach students to tune into their own consciousness and develop the muscles they need to respond. We know that they will be faced with other problematic messages through materials or in social conversions.

School is the perfect place for them to learn how to raise their voices. You can broaden your teaching by letting the families know what has happened in your classroom and how students responded. They can find themselves with this same dilemma and would appreciate guidance in how to lend support at home.

Don’t censor your reading materials; instead, use them to help students develop their critical mindset. Teach them to consider where information comes from, the perspective being shared, and how these details hold up against the knowledge and experiences of their own life. Empower your students to speak up and give them practice and support developing the muscles to do so. We need them to help us create a more compassionate future.

Thanks to Jenn, Braxton, and Kara for contributing their thoughts!

Today’s post answered this question:

How do you handle problematic (that exhibit racism, sexism, homophobia) language in books or articles you use in class? Or do you specifically avoid using them? If so, why?

In Part One, Sonja Cherry-Paul, Francoise Thenoux, and David Upegui contributed their recommendations.

Consider contributing a question to be answered in a future post. You can send one to me at lferlazzo@epe.org. When you send it in, let me know if I can use your real name if it’s selected or if you’d prefer remaining anonymous and have a pseudonym in mind.

You can also contact me on X at @Larryferlazzo or on Bluesky at @larryferlazzo.bsky.social.

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