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A teacher's historic 1968 racism experiment on third graders is still incredible today

“I watched what had been marvelous ... children turn into nasty, vicious discriminating little third graders in the space of 15 minutes.”

via Chel.by.the.seas/YouTube

Jane Elliott conducts on experiment on her students in 1970.

On April 4, 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee, and the news devastated Jane Elliott, a third-grade teacher in Riceville, Iowa. In the wake of King’s death, Elliott heard people on the news and work colleagues making racist remarks about the slain civil rights leader. So, she scrapped her lesson plans for the next day and, instead, gave her students a two-day lesson on racism. A version of this lesson was later filmed in 1970 and shown on PBS as the documentary The Eye of the Storm.

What is the Blue Eyes/Brown Eyes Experiment?

The next day, she told the children in her overwhelmingly white and protestant school that they would be divided by their eye colors, brown and blue. The blue-eyed people would be privileged, and the brown-eyed people would be treated like second-class citizens. "Since I'm the teacher and I have blue eyes, I think maybe the blue-eyed people should be on top the first day. I mean, the blue-eyed people are the better people in this room. Oh yes, they are all right. They are smarter than brown-eyed people,” she told her classroom. “This is a fact. The brown-eyed people do not get to use the drinking fountain; you'll have to use the paper cups. You brown-eyed people are not to play with the blue-eyed people on the playground. The brown-eyed people in this room today are going to wear collars so that we can tell from a distance what color your eyes are ready."

- YouTubewww.youtube.com

When lunch rolled around, the blue-eyed children began insulting the brown-eyed children, and "Brown eyes" became an insult. The brown-eyed children felt hopeless because they had no power over their treatment.

“It seems like when we were down on the bottom, everything bad happened, and uh, the way they treated you, you felt like you didn't even want to try to do anything. It was like Mrs. Elliott was taking our best friends away from us,” one of the brown-eyed children said. “I watched what had been marvelous, cooperative, wonderful, thoughtful children turn into nasty, vicious discriminating little third graders in the space of 15 minutes,” Elliott recalled.

The next day, the roles were reversed. The brown-eyed children were given all the privileges, and the blue-eyed kids wore collars. Interestingly, the brown-eyed children who experienced discrimination on the first day were kinder to the blue-eyed people when they were in charge because they understood how they felt.

The teacher also discovered that when a group of students were told they were superior, they worked through their phonics lesson faster than when they were part of the group deemed inferior. They even claimed that they couldn't think as well with the collars on, which gives some insight into the yoke of living under prejudice. The children deemed superior on the first day underperformed the next day in their lessons.


On the third day of that dreadful week following Dr. King’s assassination, the kids had learned a big lesson in life about discrimination, evidenced by a call and response Elliott had with her students where they agreed that it was wrong to judge people by the color of their skin. “Now you know a little bit more than you knew at the beginning of this week,” Elliott concluded her lesson.

Let’s hope that the children from Riceville, Iowa, in 1968 took Elliot’s lesson to heart and led a life where they, as King said, “Judge people by the content of their hearts instead of the color of their skin.” After the exercise made headlines, Elliott left teaching at the elementary school and became a full-time anti-racist speaker, conducting the experiment throughout the world. In 1992, she performed it in a controversial episode ofThe Oprah Winfrey Show.

- YouTubewww.youtube.com

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Through a historic storm and a global pandemic, this nurse embraces the true meaning of “Iowa nice”

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From the time she was a little girl, Abby Recker loved helping people. Her parents kept her stocked up with first-aid supplies so she could spend hours playing with her dolls, making up stories of ballet injuries and carefully wrapping “broken” arms and legs.

Recker fondly describes her hometown of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, as a simple place where people are kind to one another. There’s even a term for it—“Iowa nice”—describing an overall sense of agreeableness and emotional trust shown by people who are otherwise strangers.

Abby | Heroes Behind the Masks presented by CeraVewww.youtube.com

Driven by passion and the encouragement of her parents, Recker attended nursing school, graduating just one year before the unthinkable happened: a global pandemic. One year into her career as an emergency and labor and delivery nurse, everything she thought she knew about the medical field got turned upside down. That period of time was tough on everyone, and Nurse Recker was no exception.

“You had patients that were here one minute and gone the next and the emotional impact took a toll, but we stuck together,” said Nurse Recker. She and her unit eventually found their footing and learned how to work as a team to adapt to the overwhelming influx of COVID-19 patients. Right as they got into a groove, on August 10, 2020, with nearly no time to prepare, a historic “derecho” storm hit the city of Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

Courtesy of CeraVe

A derecho packs fast-moving gusts, but instead of spiraling like a tornado or hurricane, the winds of a derecho move in straight lines. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration reported the storm caused $7.5 billion in damage across South Dakota and Ohio, ranking it as the costliest thunderstorm in U.S. history. Every single Cedar Rapids resident was impacted.

“During the spring we tend to have lots of storms, so we’re used to tornados and other types of bad weather, but nothing like a derecho. I don’t think anyone in Iowa had even heard of a derecho until that August day,” said Nurse Recker. “After the storm hit, we were all trying to figure out what had happened; we didn’t even know there was a name for a storm like that!”

Suddenly, the hospital was filled with people experiencing storm-related injuries. The emergency room was packed, as people who depend on electricity to run their oxygen tanks or dialysis machines were pouring in with nowhere else to go. Just as they had done when the pandemic hit several months before, Nurse Recker and her team pulled together, working back-to-back 12-hour shifts and running on adrenaline.

It occurred to Nurse Recker in the middle of this chaos that she might not have a home to go back to. Instead of panicking, she focused on the people in front of her, putting their immediate needs above her own. It wasn’t until she got into her car to leave the hospital that she took the time to absorb the devastation. A tree had fallen, narrowly missing her car, and was wedged under her front bumper. To this day, she still doesn’t understand how her vehicle wasn’t completely crushed.

This ability to persevere under extreme pressure is what makes nurses so amazing at what they do. CeraVe’s ongoing commitment to the nursing community seeks to recognize inspiring healthcare workers such as Nurse Recker through Heroes Behind the Masks Chapter 2: A Walk In Our Shoes, a campaign featuring inspiring nurses from across the nation.

“Nurses share in some of the most joyful moments of a patient’s life but are also witness to some of the toughest moments, which can be a taxing part of their jobs that often goes unrecognized,” said Jaclyn Marrone, vice president of marketing for CeraVe. “To express our sincerest gratitude, we’re honored—to provide a platform for these incredible stories to be told, inspiring both the nursing community and beyond.”

Nurse Recker says that while sometimes there are situations where there isn’t a good solution and there’s no way to predict the future, she feels good knowing that there are people who have her back.

“I am fortunate enough to work at a job I love and am passionate about. When you love what you do and get to see the positive impact you have on people, it’s hard to be negative. Looking at what I get to do for people each and every day and how I get to impact their lives in a positive way makes it all worth it,” said Nurse Recker. “We know when people are coming to the hospital they are not at their best but the most important thing we can do is just be kind. A smile and thank you go a long way.”

Follow along in the coming days for more uplifting stories brought to you by CeraVe.

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Bullies told this boy Irish dancing was 'for girls.' An NFL player disagreed.

It all started with a mother desperate to help her son.

Carl Tubbs, 12, of Des Moines, Iowa, has been taking Irish dancing lessons for four years — and he's really good at it. According to ABC News, Carl spends extra time practicing during recess at school to help him get ready for competitions.

But there's one big problem. Carl's choice of hobby has made him a target for school bullies. Dancing is "for girls," they tell him, and he's often teased mercilessly.

Feeling powerless as her son was being tormented, Carl's mom, Joanne, did what any loving parent would do. She ... reached out to an NFL star on Twitter?

Recent profiles of Baltimore Ravens running back Alex Collins revealed a surprising aspect of his training: He, too, was a fan of the Irish jig.

The quick-moving, foot-focused dance style helps Collins stay light on his feet while avoiding crushing blows from opposing linebackers, and with Collins emerging as a top player at his position this year, his unique training style has garnered a lot of attention.

Joanne Tubbs reached out, hoping there was some way Collins could help her son.

To her surprise, Collins responded to her tweet. But that was only the beginning.

"Never stop doing the things you love because someone else doesn't agree," Collins replied. "Chase your dreams Carl and don't let them stop you from being great!"

Collins offered to meet Carl before the next Ravens game in Minnesota — which is driving distance from Carl's home — to give him some more words of encouragement.

Carl meets his NFL hero. Photo via Chad Steele/Baltimore Ravens.

Before and after the game, Collins met with the Carl, introduced him to his teammates, gave him a team-signed football, and told him to keep his head up.

In other interviews, Collins has revealed that he was also teased and bullied for his interest in dance. But not anymore.

Carl said Collins simply told him, "Just keep on moving forward and they’ll learn that picking on someone is not OK and eventually it’ll get better." He also noted that, with an NFL star in his corner, the bullies have since apologized.

We need more dudes like Collins who are willing to break down tired old ideas about what makes a man.

Not every kid who gets bullied receives a public show of support from a major sports figure. There wouldn't be enough time in the day. The best thing male role models can do is lead by their own example.

Men can be physically big and strong, or not. They can like football or dancing, or both. But the one thing they should never have to be is ashamed of being who they are and enjoying the things they do — especially when it breaks with traditional standards of masculinity.

Kudos to Collins for living the message, and for taking the time to make sure the next generation knows it's OK to just be themselves.

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A Muslim family got a hateful letter, and over 100 people answered it with kindness.

The Samel family immigrated to the U.S. from Sudan in 2010. They became naturalized citizens in May 2015 and moved into a new house in Iowa City, Iowa, that December.

The house had actually been built for them with help from Habitat for Humanity and as part of the city's National Day of Service and Remembrance in honor of 9/11. The Muslim family — Amar Samel and his wife, Muna Abdalla, along with their four children — were happily settling into their new American lives, including jobs and schooling.

They'd been living in the house 11 months when Amar Samel returned home from a memorial service to find a less-than-welcoming note on the door:

“You can all go home now. We don’t want (a racial epithet) and terrorists here. #Trump.”

Photo via Stephen Mally/The (Cedar Rapids, Iowa) Gazette, used with permission.

That was Nov. 11, 2016, the Friday after Election Day. Judging by the hashtag stamped on the end of the hateful message, the timing was no coincidence.

Unfortunately, when Samel called the police, they were not particularly helpful at first. According to Samel, the officer he spoke with on the phone declined to visit the house or take a formal statement and told Samel to simply take the note down and throw it away.

"This disappointed me more than the action itself because I was looking for kind of support," Samel told the Iowa City Press-Citizen. "Because the police obviously represent for us, represent somebody supporting you. The law. The power. So nobody’s above the law."

The police administration has since assigned a detective to investigate the case. The Iowa City Area CrimeStoppers also stepped in to offer a $1,000 reward for information about the culprits behind the note.

Photo via Stephen Mally/The (Cedar Rapids, Iowa) Gazette, used with permission.

But as word of the incident began to spread around Iowa City, the Samels' fellow Iowans found other ways to show their support.

Strangers and friends alike banded together to flood the family with neighborly love and true hospitality, sending them cookies, cards, flowers, and balloons and chalking affectionate messages on their driveway.

"I'm glad your [sic] my brother's best friend," wrote one classmate to the Samels' son, Mohammed.

"You are very nice people. You should stay," someone scribbled on the asphalt outside their home. "We're glad you're here!" another wrote.

Photo via Stephen Mally/The (Cedar Rapids, Iowa) Gazette, used with permission.

"You hear about these things happening, but you don’t really know if it’s true. When I heard people say this was their neighbor, it really hit home," one Iowan told The Gazette after dropping off a flower bouquet at the Samel family home the Monday after the incident.

Photo via Stephen Mally/The (Cedar Rapids, Iowa) Gazette, used with permission.

Sarah Widdick Shaw saw the Samels' heartbreaking story in The Gazette and shared it with the famous secret Facebook group Pantsuit Nation.

Shaw urged her fellow group members to keep the lovefest going for the Samel family by sending them even more notes, cards, and gifts through The Gazette, whose address she included in the post.

"I only hope that there were enough to make a difference for them," she said. "It's not much, sending letters of support, but gezzus we have to do something to counteract all this hate."

Within the hour, the post had been shared by more than a hundred people. Other users shared photos of their cards, letters, baked goods, and handmade gifts such as stickers and temporary tattoos. Some people even made donations to Habitat for Humanity because they'd helped to build the family's home.

Photo via Stephen Mally/The (Cedar Rapids, Iowa) Gazette, used with permission.

By the Monday before Thanksgiving, The Gazette had received more than a hundred cards and letters, all looking to be delivered to the Samels.

The family was overwhelmed by the support. When The Gazette asked if the family wanted to respond to this outpouring of support, Amar Samel answered, "Tell them we are OK. Everything will be OK. We are relieved by knowing that, this is life, always there is good and bad, but the good is always more."

Just a few of the cards received at the Gazette office. Image via the Samel family.

Recent events may have invigorated a new surge of hate in America, but it's inspired even more people to show how big their hearts can be.

"Hopefully the next generation will have more warmth in their hearts," Sarah Widdick Shaw said after seeing the response to her Facebook post. Though maybe that warmth is already there. We just need to make sure we're actively, openly sharing it for all the world to feel and see.

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