To Kill a Mockingbird is a novel that often sparks debate in educational settings. While celebrated for its exploration of empathy and justice, it also faces challenges due to its use of racial slurs and portrayal of sensitive themes. Recently, a Mississippi school district made headlines when they temporarily removed the book from their 8th-grade curriculum, citing discomfort caused by the racial language. This incident, however, underscores a larger conversation about the book’s place in modern classrooms and the crucial role discomfort plays in meaningful education.
As an educator, I confess that To Kill a Mockingbird isn’t always the easiest book to teach. While I recognize its literary merit and the powerful lessons it contains, some aspects can present challenges in the classroom. The opening chapters, while setting the scene in Maycomb, Alabama, can feel slow-paced for contemporary students accustomed to faster narratives. Furthermore, the character of Atticus Finch, while admirable, can be interpreted through the lens of “white savior” tropes, a concept that requires careful discussion and deconstruction with students. Resources like Facing History’s “Teaching Mockingbird” curriculum and Teaching Tolerance’s lesson plans are invaluable tools in navigating these complexities and fostering critical analysis.
Despite these challenges, I firmly believe in the importance of continuing to teach To Kill a Mockingbird. The controversy surrounding its removal from the Mississippi curriculum highlights a recurring issue: discomfort with the book’s content. It’s not uncommon to hear concerns ranging from the use of the N-word to the emotional distress the novel’s injustices may evoke in students. The story of Tom Robinson, wrongly accused and unjustly treated, is intentionally unsettling. It forces readers to confront uncomfortable truths about prejudice and systemic inequality, and the natural human reaction to discomfort is often to eliminate its source.
However, this impulse to shield students from discomfort misunderstands a fundamental aspect of education. Reading To Kill a Mockingbird aloud in class, I, too, feel the weight of the N-word each time it’s uttered. This discomfort is not a flaw, but a crucial element of the learning experience. To shy away from this discomfort would be to deny students the opportunity to grapple with the historical and ongoing gravity of this word, its origins, and the imperative to eradicate it from our vocabulary and societal structures.
Education’s purpose extends far beyond simply making students feel comfortable. A truly effective education should, by its very nature, provoke discomfort. The very essence of “enlightenment,” embedded in the definition of “education,” implies shedding light on the darkness of ignorance. This process of illumination is rarely, if ever, comfortable.
Creating a safe space in the classroom is paramount, and I have written extensively about this elsewhere. However, it’s crucial to distinguish between a safe space and a bubble. A safe space empowers students to be authentic, engage in challenging conversations, and respectfully validate and challenge each other. Conversely, a bubble shields students from the realities of the world, reinforcing pre-conceived notions and hindering genuine understanding.
Adolescents, and indeed many adults, often possess incomplete or inaccurate worldviews. Our world itself is demonstrably imperfect. Oppressive systems continue to perpetuate disenfranchisement and inequality based on race, as vividly depicted in To Kill a Mockingbird, and also on gender, sexuality, and countless other factors. Our society remains deeply divided, often prioritizing power over kindness and empathy.
To Kill a Mockingbird generates discomfort precisely because it exposes these unsettling realities, forcing us to confront uncomfortable truths about ourselves and our society. The novel challenges the simplistic notion of “nice people.” Walter Cunningham, initially presented as a friend of the Finch family, is also part of the mob intending to lynch Tom Robinson. The seemingly refined Maycomb ladies, with their emphasis on decorum, harbor deeply ingrained prejudices and engage in judgmental behavior. Lee’s narrative compels us to question the distinction between being “nice” and being “right,” prompting introspection and self-examination that can be inherently unsettling.
This discomfort is not a deterrent but rather the catalyst for change. Meaningful change emerges when we confront discomfort directly and engage in open dialogue with our students and colleagues. Avoiding these difficult conversations perpetuates the very racism that To Kill a Mockingbird exposes—a racism that predates the novel and sadly persists today. As The Sun Herald eloquently stated in their editorial criticizing the book’s removal:
“Acting as if race is no longer a factor in our society is part of the problem. Acting as if it is too difficult or offensive to talk about is part of the problem.
We have not, in fact, overcome racism.
The racists in our society must be confronted. They must not be allowed to assume our silence is acquiescence.
In the book, the Finch children, Scout and Jem, grow when they confront evil. They discover prejudice and overcome it. And that is because their father, Atticus, treats them maturely and guides them in the right direction.
The Biloxi school system should follow his example.”
When I reflect on my aspirations as an educator, kindness and compassion are certainly central. However, my primary goal is to cultivate critical thinking in my students. I hope to be remembered as a teacher who challenged students (and myself) to strive for improvement, to act with courage, and to engage deeply with the world around them. This objective cannot be achieved by prioritizing comfort.
True growth emerges from embracing challenges and illuminating areas of discomfort and fear so we can confront them directly. As Ashley Hicks, founder of Black Girls Run, wisely noted, “the blessing is outside of your comfort zone.” It is in this space of discomfort that genuine learning and transformation occur.
We must meet our students in this challenging space, not with frustration or condescension, but with profound care and a commitment to their growth. We challenge them because we understand that real change is inherently uncomfortable, and we want to equip them with the tools and resilience to navigate this discomfort effectively.
Let us, therefore, embrace the discomfort that To Kill a Mockingbird evokes. Let us teach our students not to shy away from difficult conversations but to engage with them thoughtfully and empathetically. Let us guide them to understand Atticus Finch’s timeless wisdom: “You never really understand a person until [you] consider things from his point of view… until [you] climb into his skin and walk around in it.” To Kill a Mockingbird provides a powerful opportunity to cultivate this crucial skill of empathy and to walk alongside our students as they grapple with the complexities of the human experience. Perhaps this enduring relevance is why, despite its challenges, To Kill a Mockingbird remains such a vital and necessary text in our classrooms today.
Christina Torres is an English teacher based in Honolulu and a blogger for EdWeek Teacher. Connect with Christina online via Twitter @biblio_phile, Facebook :/christinawrites, and her website http://christinatorres.org.
