Teaching in TEXAS

I teach my kindergarten class about Texas.

I say, “To the west are the plains, where

the Comanche and Kiowas once lived.”

I do not tell them where these tribes have gone,

or why, or how. I just say, “They must have been kind 

to share all this space with immigrants.” Because

their parents would have me fired if

I told them our ancestors were thieves.

“And here is the Texas hill country, 

where we live. To the south is Mexico.

To the north is Oklahoma.”

I don’t mention the non-binary child

beaten to death in an Oklahoma

public school bathroom because 

my boys are not yet scared to say

pink is their favorite color, and 

I want to keep it that way.

Instead, I just scrunch up my nose 

and say, “Not a fan,”

Just to make them laugh.

I point to the middle of the map.

“Here is Austin, our state capital

where the governor works.”

I try not to talk about the kids

in cages, sleeping without their parents 

just three hours south, because 

my students cry for home when

they get out of their moms’ cars

in the drop-off line. 

I don’t bring up the eighteen year old

who died from a septic miscarriage

after visiting three Texas emergency rooms

because several of the students’ mothers are pregnant.

Instead, when my students ask why the governor

looks so mean, I shrug. “Maybe he stubbed his toe.”

And they all agree this is a good enough reason.

Finally, I point to the flag and

its one lonely star. I give them

the lore - how our flag reflects

that we were once our own country.

I do not talk about the walls growing up

around our borders that will slowly shrink, 

tighten - a noose around their necks as they 

Grow and stretch and become. Afterall,

They are only five, and they will learn 

all about Texas in time.