Through the Looking Glass, Part 2/3: Tatum and Teaching

But I am being silly when there is a serious question looming here. Is it possible we’re all just as deluded as the D-limonene who looks into the mirror and thinks he’s someone else? And, as in his case, does this delusion go beyond merely what we look like (a big enough concern for most of us), extending to the crux of who we really, truly are?

Most of us can relate to the young lady in Norman Rockwell’s painting, Girl at the Mirror, shown below. She stares longingly into the glass, dissatisfied and insecure in a moment of introspection. At her feet, a paraphernalia of beauty products. Farther off sits a doll, carelessly tossed on its side, discarded, an artifact of the girlhood that the subject hasn’t quite grown out of, though we get the impression she’d like to. The magazine in her lap advertises an ideal of mature, feminine beauty.


There are two reflections here. One is in the mirror. The other is in the girl’s mind as she looks at the magazine. What is she seeing? Tatum would probably argue that she is seeing the differences between herself and this ideal: she is flat-chested, round-faced, childish, homely. It is as wildly distorted an image as her vanity mirror would produce of a molecule like limonene.

When discussing the aesthetics of race (and of racism), Tatum recalls,

I grew up with the expression “good hair.” Though no one in my household used that phrase often, I knew what it meant when I heard it. “Good hair” was straight hair, and the straighter the better. I still remember the oohs and ahs of my White elementary classmates when I arrived at school for “picture day” with my long mane of dark hair resting on my shoulders. With the miracle of a hot comb, my mother had transformed my ordinary braids into what I thought was a glamorous cascade of curls. I received many compliments that day. “How pretty you look,” the White teacher said. The truth was I looked pretty every day, but a clear message was being sent both at home and at school about what real beauty was. (45)

Rockwell’s girl at the mirror could easily be a young African American woman with a straightening iron in her hand. It could easily be one of my future students, scrutinizing herself with one of those terrible, or Terrible, or TERRIBLE beauty magazines in her lap (with a pile of untouched chemistry homework tossed to the side, no doubt!). So the question that I ask is, What could I, as a teacher do to steer my students away from embracing the worst examples of media-endorsed idols at the expense of their self-esteem? How can I convince an insecure teenager that different does not translate to ugly?

Well, after writing the essay on enantiomerism, I am seriously considering including it in the general chemistry course I might one day teach. But to turn it into a lesson about self-image and the evils of Vanity Fair magazine might come off as preaching, and students hate that (rightfully so!). This is why I prefer to stick to my subject matter. Teaching students to think scientifically will by definition teach them to think critically, rationally, independently. A teacher can only hope that her students’ brains do not turn off when they leave the classroom.

The other strategy is to lead by example. All the teachers I have ever loved had three things in common: they knew their subject matter, they taught it with rigour and passion, and they were fearlessly, totally, completely themselves. Although students might make fun of the nonconformist teacher (who can blame them? It’s just so easy!), the jokes are usually delivered with affection, and maybe with some genuine appreciation for the daily dose of honesty. More than that, a student who sees himself as different will probably enjoy not being the oddest person in the room!