This summer at Apple Ridge Farm was interesting, to say the least. Every summer brings something different, and sometimes the lessons I take home are not the ones I planned to teach. One of the most meaningful experiences for me this year came through something simple: playing my drum. Throughout the summer, I would often bring my drum out around the children. When I started playing, it usually didn’t take long for a few children to gather around. Some would listen, some would ask questions, and others wanted a chance to play.
During our final week, a different group of children visited from a Boys & Girls Club in Franklin County. I noticed several of the Hispanic children were especially interested in the drum. They would gather around as I played and sang, watching closely and waiting for their opportunity to participate. At one point, I handed the drum to a young Hispanic boy who couldn’t have been more than 10 years old. I asked him, “Can you sing a song in your language while you play?” His face lit up. He began playing the drum and singing in Spanish. For a moment, I just listened.
It may seem like a small interaction, but it meant something to me. I had been sharing a piece of my culture through the drum and traditional song, and now this young man was sharing a piece of his culture with me. I wasn’t the teacher anymore.
I became the student. That moment reminded me of something important about working with children, especially as our schools and communities become more culturally diverse. We don’t have to know everything about another person’s culture to make them feel valued. Sometimes we need to create a space where they know that who they are is welcome.
There is a lot of discussion today about trauma-informed care and helping children overcome adversity. That work is important. But healing-centered work asks us to look beyond what has happened to a child and also recognize their strengths, culture, family, creativity, joy, and sense of belonging. Healing can happen through laughter.
Healing can happen through music. Healing can happen when a child realizes that their language and culture are not something they have to hide. That young boy already carried his song within him. I didn’t give him his culture. I allowed him to share it. As a Black American educator, I understand how important it is for children to see their culture respected. Our history teaches us what can happen when people’s languages, traditions, music, spirituality, and ways of knowing are treated as less valuable than someone else’s.
That history should teach us to do something different. Our Hispanic and Latino neighbors are an important part of Southwest Virginia’s changing cultural landscape. Their children deserve the same thing every child deserves: to walk into a classroom, camp, community center, or public space and know that they do not have to leave their identity outside the door. That does not mean we all have to become the same.
It means we learn how to honor one another – that afternoon at Apple Ridge, a Black American man from Roanoke and a young Hispanic boy living in Franklin County connected through rhythm. We came from different backgrounds. We sang different songs. We may have even understood the drum differently.
But none of that prevented us from sharing the moment. The drum became a bridge. As educators, mentors, parents, and community leaders, maybe we should ask ourselves more often: Are we creating spaces where children can bring their whole selves? Sometimes cultural understanding begins with a book or a lesson.
Other times, it begins by handing a child the drum and listening to the song they already carry inside.
And remember… The only way out… Is In…
