Finding Ways to Connect

A few days ago, two groups of teenagers got into a fight in downtown D.C.  It did not take long for police officers to break up the fight.  After the teens lingered around, a female officer approached them and asked them to leave.  At that point, Aaliyah, a 17 year-old student from a nearby high school walked up to the officer, began playing “Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae)” on her phone, and started doing the Nae Nae dance.  Almost on cue, bystanders used their cell phones to record what was about to happen.

In that moment, things could have easily escalated.  The officer could have felt her authority was being questioned; she could have felt disrespected.  And the officer could have become more agitated and aggressive in order to teach Aaliyah and bystanders a lesson.  Instead, the officer laughed and joked that she had much better dance moves.

As a baby boomer who listens to soul and goldie oldies, I never heard of the Nae Nae dance.  Yet, as I watched their “dance-off” go on for about two minutes, I developed an appreciation for this officer and others in positions of authority who manage to somehow connect with youth in the heat of the moment.  I have seen this same scenario, up close and personal, in my youth.  It might have taken place in the classroom, on the basketball court, or on the streets.  Instead of a situation spiraling out of control, the diversity consciousness of authority figures allow them to make a potentially volatile situation a teachable moment.

In everyday social interaction, authority figures learn to connect with people from diverse background in a variety of innovative ways.  Obviously, everyone cannot dance like this officer and the situational context is critical .  But we all have our strengths, our hidden talents so-to-speak.  In Diversity Consciousness, I mention Ms. B, a high school math teacher who tries to make math more relatable to her diverse class of students.  She does this by creating raps, which the students gradually begin to enjoy.  Eventually, Ms. B has the whole class singing along with her and learning valuable lessons about math in the process.

On a more personal level, I remember teaching one of my sociology classes one day at Baltimore City Community College.  We were discussing socialization and everyday social interaction.  It was relatively early in the semester.  I turned off the lights in the classroom, and played a clip of music.  I asked the students the name of the artist.  After about 10 guesses or so, one of my older students finally said, Otis Redding.  “Right,” I said, and gave him some tootsie roll pops for his answer.  I then set the stage, and took them back to something called “teen center.”

To make a long story short, I spent the entire night at teen center waiting to dance with Helen, my heart’s desire.  I finally got my wish.  But there was a problem; I only knew one dance step.  At that moment, I start playing Otis Redding’s “Try a Little Tenderness, and shift into what I jokingly call the “basic white box step.”  Unfortunately, that dance step did not help me later in this song when Otis speeds things up.  Embarrassed, I left Helen without a word and ran to the boy’s room.

In each of these situations, authority figures become more relatable.  And that lesson stays with our youth.  According to Aaliyah, the experience described earlier shaped her perception of police officers.  Ms. B, who also happens to be my wife, regularly gets email from former students who share their love and fondly recall one of her raps.  And when I ask students at the end of the semester what they remember most about my course, it is not unusual for them to mention my dance, and how it made me more human.