Needless to say, I was not prepared for the unrealized stress. I quickly learned that teachers had to play many different roles, wear many hats, and take on way too many extra tasks. I was almost regularly pulled out of teaching to speak to students whom the building leadership could not reach; that’s when I earned the nickname “child whisperer.” Instead of a badge of honor, it was like another invisible tax associated with being a black teacher. I felt like my worth depended on my ability to maintain order. From fights to classroom struggles, I felt limited and locked into a box of preconceived notions about my role as an enforcer of the system’s standards, the same things I despise in discipline-oriented school systems. It was like I was both a puppet and Geppetto. I felt like I was maintaining a lie, making my students believe that this is how things should be. I questioned my place within the school, wondering what role I really played in the lives of the students.

I continued, hoping to further unleash the genius of our children. Yet the beginning of my teaching career indicated that sometimes it takes more than hope to succeed in this profession as a person of color and an educational leader.

The journey to inspire change

Over the past five years of my career, the pandemic has shined a spotlight on the needs of our schools, our teachers, and our students, as conversations about what and how our children deserve to learn have become a controversial and critical racial theory, and DEI became the debate of the times. . Motivated to change this conversation and influence state politics and locally I ran for the school board in 2021. It seemed like a great opportunity to try to create real change for our children while also creating an identity for myself in education that wasn’t limited to how I enforced school policy for children who look like me.

Before deciding to run, I spoke with a few close advisors and the amount of immediate support was validated; however, I quickly learned that politics is not for the faint of heart. The narratives about my values ​​and who I was were set by everyone. I was accused of becoming Puerto Rican for the sake of the campaign, completely ignoring my education and family ties. The feeling I got when my wife was cut out of an ad outside of my campaign was infuriating. The lies about my allegiances and intentions were exhausting. It didn’t take very long for me to feel like I was just a name and a face – and everyone created their idea of ​​who I was behind that.

The campaign became exhausting for my family and tested the values ​​I chose to uphold and uphold. Still, I hoped that being the only teacher on the ballot and committing to my community through service would push me to victory, no matter what. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough and I narrowly lost the race.

A crushing defeat in many ways that left me feeling like a failure. Seeing others – white men, in particular – get the same opportunity after getting less than me not only made me question my abilities, but also reinforced the role the system wants me to play. In that moment, everything made sense. People see me the way they want to see me. They prefer to keep me in a box. So I chose to stay in the box in which I feel most comfortable: my class.

Make peace with reality

It is here, in my classroom, that I think about how to fight against a system that perpetuates injustice, a system that fights against the brilliance of diversity. This system does not allow everyone to sit at the table.

Nearly a decade in education, and I still wonder if I even existed. Does anyone see beyond my physical appearance? Do my titles as a husband, father, teacher or coach really matter? Did I leave an impact on someone or something? Am I invisible? Perhaps, and over the years I have become accustomed to this feeling of invisibility.

Like the protagonist of Invisible Man, I may have “searched for myself and asked everyone but myself questions that I, and I alone, could answer.” It took me a long time and a painful adjustment of my expectations to realize that I am no one but myself.

I don’t need your eyes to be seen, and I don’t need your validation to continue fighting for what I believe. I am everything and nothing you think I am, and I will do as I please.