For Students In Tulsa, Pain Frames Conversation About Crutcher Rebecca Lee teaches in Tulsa. Lee has been talking with students about their feelings after Terence Crutcher, whose daughter attends her school, was shot to death. She shared them publicly online.
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For Students In Tulsa, Pain Frames Conversation About Crutcher

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For Students In Tulsa, Pain Frames Conversation About Crutcher

For Students In Tulsa, Pain Frames Conversation About Crutcher

For Students In Tulsa, Pain Frames Conversation About Crutcher

  • Download
  • <iframe src="https://www.npr.org/player/embed/495236318/495295179" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player">
  • Transcript

In this photo made from a Sept. 16, 2016 police video, Terence Crutcher, left, with his arms up is pursued by police officers as he walks next to his stalled SUV moments before he was shot and killed by one of the officers in Tulsa, Okla. Tulsa Police Department via AP hide caption

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Tulsa Police Department via AP

In this photo made from a Sept. 16, 2016 police video, Terence Crutcher, left, with his arms up is pursued by police officers as he walks next to his stalled SUV moments before he was shot and killed by one of the officers in Tulsa, Okla.

Tulsa Police Department via AP

Rebecca Lee teaches at KIPP Tulsa College Prep, where a daughter of Terence Crutcher is in the 6th grade. Terence Crutcher is the 40-year-old man, a father of 4, shot to death by Tulsa police on September 16 after he halted his vehicle in the middle of a road. A white Tulsa police officer has been charged with manslaughter.

Rebecca Lee helped three groups of school children in Tulsa try to talk about their fears and feelings; and posted some of her own on Facebook:

"I look at the wide-eyed faces of the fifth graders surrounding me," she wrote...

"I ask them, 'What are your thoughts?'

"They answer with questions. 'Why did they have to kill him? Why were they afraid of him? ... What will she do at father daughter dances? ... Hasn't this happened before?'

"... As the questions roll, so do the tears."

The second group was 6th graders:

"When I open the floor for discussion," Rebecca Lee wrote, "silence. It hurts to talk about. It hurts to think about. It hurts.

"...I give them the space to process silently. Then I tell them, 'We have different skin colors. I love you. You matter. You are worthy. You are human. You are valuable.'

"Shoulders shake harder around the circle. I realize that this is the first time all year I have affirmed my love for them."

The third group of students were "older — thirteen and fourteen. They are hardened. They are angry," Rebecca Lee posted.

"'What made him 'a big bad dude?' a boy asks. 'Was it his height? His size --' I look at the boys in my circle, all former students of mine. They have grown inches since their first day in my class. Their voices have deepened. Their shoulders broadened. They all nod their heads in agreement at the student's last guess — 'The color of his skin?'

"I share this story," the teacher wrote, "because Mr. Crutcher's death does not just affect the students at my school ... (W)e are creating an identity crisis in all of our black and brown students. (Do I matter? Am I to be feared? Should I live in fear? Am I human?) We are shaping their world view with blood and bullets, hashtags and viral videos. Is this how we want them to feel? Is this how we want them to think?

"I share this story because I spent the last two years teaching kids that we write to interact with and understand the world, that our voices matter and that our voices deserve to be heard...

"I ask that you love and love hard."

Words this week from Rebecca Lee, a schoolteacher in Tulsa.