This is my first semester as student in the University's School of Education. The plan is to be a high school English teacher when this whole college thing is over. Like all first-semester teacher candidates, I've been placed in the first teaching practicum course, which is basically pre-student teaching. It's a course in observation during which teacher candidates watch certified teachers in schools around Ann Arbor.

I've been placed at Southfield High School, which is north of Detroit. So far, as I expected it would be, the observation has been educational and informative. But one of the most valuable learning experiences I am having isn’t one that I expected. That's because the student body of Southfield High School is overwhelmingly African American. For the three hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays that I observe at Southfield High School, I am in the minority. And it’s led to some startling realizations about race issues.

Let me be entirely clear upfront: I do not judge people on the color of their skin. Race does not determine the quality of a person. But race, like culture or ethnicity, is part of who a person is, and it shouldn’t be ignored. At the same time, I’ve always experienced race issues as a member of the majority.

I come from a place where diversity is just a word. Almost without exception, the population of Webberville, Michigan is white and Christian. Even here at the University, I'm part of the majority. And let’s face it: It’s easy to be the same as everyone else, because you never even think about what being different means. And up until this point in my life, I’ve never been the only person in the room who is different. I’ve never even really been in a situation that I had to think about what that must be like.

But during my observation days at Southfield High School, I am not the same as everyone else, and that’s a drastic departure from what I’m accustomed to. The school is about 97-percent African American, according to this year's enrollment numbers, and so some of the classes I sit in on don't have any white students in them. The teacher I’m observing is African American as well. It's strange to suddenly be the one person in the room who is different. And, to be completely honest, being different made me a little uncomfortable at first. The discomfort isn’t because the students are black and I’m white — it’s because they are one way, and I am another. And being so noticably different is something I’ve never experienced before.

At first, I was extremely self-conscious. I was irrationally sure that the kids were judging me every second. Admittedly, some of this was because I am in a new position of authority as an almost-teacher when I still don’t consider myself a real adult. It’s a jarring transition. But some of it was because I wondered what the students thought of the white woman sitting in the back of their classroom. The whole thing was compounded by the awkwardness of being an outside observer, which is a strange position to be in. This soon faded — thank goodness — after I realized that I was going to have to get over it or spend the rest of the semester feeling uncomfortable.

I don't want to imply that the students have treated me poorly or excluded me because of my race. In fact, now that my initial paranoia has passed, I'm fairly certain that they haven't thought about it at all. But I still feel the difference of being the one on the outside of the cultural bubble.

I'm not trying to say that this experience has suddenly made me completely understand what it’s like to be a minority in America. I don’t. My experience is only temporary. I instantly become a member of the majority group again as soon as I leave Southfield High School after a mere three hours a day, twice a week. I don’t know what it means to be a racial minority, and I probably never will. But the experience has given me a little bit of perspective on an issue with which I haven't had much firsthand experience.

It’s the variety of experience and the perspective it brings that makes the teaching practicum valuable, especially for brand-new teacher candidates like me. I’m not a minority, and I'll probably never fully understand what it's like to be one. But I have had a taste — albeit a small taste — of what it’s like, and hopefully that will give me a little bit of empathy in the future and help make me a better teacher and person.

Rachel Van Gilder is the Daily's editorial page editor. She can be reached at rachelvg@umich.edu.