A few weeks prior to the start of the new school year, I found myself in the school library surrounded by shelves of books, feeling disheartened. I was on a mission to evaluate five books that would determine whether they should remain accessible to our students or be locked away in my office, prohibited from their reach. Among these books, one in particular, “Friday Night Lights” by H.G. Bissinger, pained me deeply. As I retrieved the worn copy from its designated spot, I noticed its tattered cover, held together by tape. Our students had clearly cherished this book. It was a difficult decision to limit the range of books available to them, but I was relieved to ultimately decide to keep “Friday Night Lights” on the shelf. I plan to replace the well-loved copy with two new ones, while keeping the original as a reminder of the summer I found myself labeled as the book-banning monster that caught the attention of the world.
Recently, my school district in north-central Iowa gained notoriety due to the effects of a newly implemented law known as the “parental rights bill.” This bill, enacted at the end of May and effective from July 1, placed an unreasonable burden on public school teachers and administrators. It mandated that school libraries only house “age-appropriate” books devoid of any descriptions or visual depictions of sexual acts, as defined by Iowa Code. Shockingly, the law held individual teachers and school librarians personally accountable for any violations. The task of sifting through thousands of books to identify a single description of a sex act was both daunting and nearly impossible within the limited timeframe we had at the start of the school year. To make matters worse, the Department of Education provided no guidance to school districts, leaving us scrambling to find solutions and demonstrate our good-faith efforts to comply with this onerous law.
Our district serves approximately 3,500 students across nine school libraries and numerous classroom libraries. While our school library collections are digitally cataloged and easily searchable, classroom libraries pose a different challenge. Often comprised of books inherited with the classroom or obtained through donations and second-hand purchases, these collections aim to provide diverse and engaging reading materials that foster a love for books in every student. As a former English teacher, I have personally read, enjoyed, and taught many of these books. However, now I find myself in the unenviable position of evaluating them based on these new legal requirements. I, like every reader, engage with books for the joy they bring and the opportunity to glimpse the world through someone else’s eyes, not with the aim of finding explicit depictions of sex.
In order to demonstrate our sincere effort to comply with the law while conserving time and energy, we adopted a process that drew widespread attention and criticism. We compiled a list from various catalogs of frequently challenged books and then removed any titles that were challenged for reasons unrelated to sexual content. From this refined list, we cross-referenced it with the books in our school libraries. Seeking assistance, we turned to ChatGPT for aid. For each book on the list, we inquired whether it contained a description of a sex act. ChatGPT identified 19 books, but each response came with a caveat, acknowledging the scene’s literary value or contextual appropriateness. Unfortunately, there was no room for such qualifiers in the legislation. To verify these findings, we consulted resources like Book Looks and Common Sense Media. Ultimately, we read or revisited several books to confirm whether they indeed contained explicit descriptions. AI misidentified three books – “Friday Night Lights,” Lois Duncan’s “Killing Mr. Griffin,” and Sherman Alexie’s “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian.” However, we removed sixteen other books, including Jodi Picoult’s “Nineteen Minutes” and Patricia McCormick’s “Sold.” Tragically, we were compelled to suppress marginalized voices by removing Alice Walker’s “The Color Purple” and Toni Morrison’s “Beloved.” We were forced to lump together stories of childhood sexual assault and sexual violence with pornography, resulting in the removal of Maya Angelou’s “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” and Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale.”
The subsequent outrage that erupted from these decisions is just, and it should not be dismissed. Censorship yields no winners; I was simply attempting to minimize the harm caused by this destructive law. My hope was to harness the energy generated by public outcry and shed light on the true issue at hand – the misguided legislation itself, and the unfortunate reality that our students are still deprived of access to culturally relevant works within their schools.
The headlines proclaimed that we employed AI to eliminate books. The American Civil Liberties Union portrayed this as a “dystopian twist” on book banning, while Rolling Stone announced, “Iowa School District Bans Books by Toni Morrison, Margaret Atwood After A.I. Review for ‘Depictions of a Sex Act.'” I would argue that we used AI as a tool to safeguard books. This technology enabled us to specifically target books that violated the strict letter of the law, minimizing collateral damage to other books. Ultimately, we were able to retain over 30 titles that we feared might fall into questionable territory.
In contrast, other districts took a broader approach. Lacking guidance and operating within an environment of fear fueled by political agendas, these districts made drastic cuts to their collections. School administrators instructed teachers not only to remove books containing sexual content but also any books they hadn’t read or couldn’t fully recall. A former student of mine, now a teacher in another Iowa school district, shared that three out of the five bookshelves in her classroom library now sit empty due to her district’s directives.
Teachers and school leaders conduct their work under a public spotlight. Each of us brings our own values, personal histories, and belief systems to our roles. We became educators because we believe in the power of public education. I wholeheartedly embrace the transformative potential of books and the accessibility of information. I do not shy away from the public scrutiny that comes with my job, but it was deeply hurtful to hear the derogatory messages left on my assistant’s voicemail, branding me as a Nazi, a communist pig, an idiot, and a danger to society.
Keeping kids away from books is the last thing I want to be doing. Teachers have genuine responsibilities to fulfill. We already have a system in place that allows parents to voice concerns and request reconsideration of books and instructional materials. In over two decades, our district has not faced any formal challenges to books in our libraries, suggesting that parents are not overly concerned about the content on our shelves.
I firmly believe in parental rights. I want all parents across our nation to actively participate in making choices that they believe are best for their children. At the same time, we mustn’t disregard our collective duty to achieve the fundamental goal of the American public education system – to ensure that every child has access to the highest quality teaching and learning opportunities. Much of this opportunity lies within the discoveries waiting on library shelves. That is precisely why we must shield our public schools from the agendas that hinder their progress.
Denial of responsibility! VigourTimes is an automatic aggregator of Global media. In each content, the hyperlink to the primary source is specified. All trademarks belong to their rightful owners, and all materials to their authors. For any complaint, please reach us at – [email protected]. We will take necessary action within 24 hours.
