The Niggerization of Black History Month: Musings for a Necessary Reconstruction

The origins of an annual recognition of American black history, initially dubbed as “Negro History Week,” can be traced to as far back as 1926, despite blacks’ presence in American life since colonial times.

It would not be until the twentieth century that black Americans would acquire a respectable and noticeable residence in American historical scholarship.

Dr. Carter G. Woodson, born to parents of former slaves, was disturbed to find that the history of the African diaspora was absent and ignored in texts, mirroring the inferior position that the black race was assigned at that time. In response, Woodson launched “Negro History Week” to draw national attention to the contributions of black Americans throughout American history. He chose the second week of February for the birthdays of two men who he believed greatly influenced the progressive cause of black America, Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln. To choose Lincoln is not surprising; however, it does not come without complication, which I will discuss later in this post.

While Black History Month celebrations can provoke important and vital conversations for American academic, racial, and cultural fabrics, there are those that peddle the idea that Black History Month is no longer necessary or relevant, that Americans should not have to wait eleven months to pay tribute to and commemorate the legacy, achievements, and struggles of historical black leaders and their movements. Morgan Freeman, a critic of Black History Month, said “I don’t want a black history month. Black history is American history.” There are those that claim that it (Black History Month) is shallow and actually fuels racism. The idea of schoolchildren learning about the same black historical figures annually — and only in February — can appear to be a ghettoization of black contributions, that somehow black history is not American history and that it is only worth the value of 28 days out of a year, or the shortest month of the year.

The aims of Black History Month all point to raising awareness and never forgetting; yet, I question how effectively the goals of Black History Month are met by schoolchildren who learn cheapened versions of the same figures year after year without background or the historical context that surrounds how they (historical leaders) were able to prosper despite deep-seated racism? To what end does learning black history without a contextual backdrop serve as meaningful history?

I question how adequately the goals of Black History Month are met at a time when colorism, the schism and contention between light-skinned blacks and dark-skinned blacks, has yet to be paid attention or afforded collective action. I question how useful celebrating the merits of school desegregation are when our black and Latino youth marry speaking proper grammar, pursuing education, and achievement to whiteness, that somehow one is “acting white” or can be considered a racial or cultural sellout because they “are not being true to who they are.” How can we discuss the injustices and the abomination that rage around the Emmett Till case who was brutally murdered for allegedly whistling at a white woman in Mississippi when there continues to be rampant and pervasive discrimination and racial bias within our American criminal justice system because of the inability of the capitalist system to provide economic and social justice?

I do not advocate dismantling or abandoning Black History Month altogether. Truly, a knowledge of black history is essential to understanding the present and how to meet the demands of the African-American experience in the distant future.

The current framework and approach of Black History Month has run its course, though. Black History Month should not hold a seasonal occupation of once a month annually. The irreverence of how uncalibrated Black History Month has become in pursuit of raising awareness, never forgetting, and perfecting our Union is entirely apparent and glaring. If we insist on maintaining Black History Month celebrations, we should at least not niggerize* it. We should reframe the celebrations to provide more context for greater understanding, but we should also discuss problems and challenges of the black community today. Discussing and remembering the past is important, but it is not enough to solve our most urgent evils nor does it provide enough audacity to even consider the unknown perils of the future.

We should discuss colorism. We should explore the confusing and troubling word “nigger” and why it is both offensive and endearing depending on the user of the word. We should debate (and eradicate) the “acting white” phenomenon among our black and Latino youth. Let Whitney Houston be a lesson unto us all, but particularly within the black community. It is the lesson that we can have incomparable talents, potential, and wealth, but should we succumb to the ravage of substance abuse and drugs, we can instantly lose it all. We should address misconceptions and historical inaccuracies, such as the claim that “the Great Emancipator,” Abraham Lincoln, fought the Civil War because he was sympathetic to slaves and wanted to free them.

“I will say, then, that I am not nor have ever been in favor of bringing about in any way the social and political equality of the black and white races—that I am not, nor ever have been, in favor of making voters or jurors of negroes, nor of qualifying them to hold office, nor to intermarry with White people; and I will say in addition to this that there is a physical difference between the White and black races which will ever forbid the two races living together on terms of social and political equality. And inasmuch as they cannot so live, while they do remain together, there must be the position of superior and inferior, and I, as much as any other man, am in favor of having the superior position assigned to the White race.” – Abraham Lincoln, “Fourth Lincoln-Douglas Debate, September 18, 1858, Charleston, Illinois,” in “Abraham Lincoln: Speeches and Writings” (New York: Library of America, 1989), p. 636, and in Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, Volume 5, page 371

If we continue to cheaply honor the struggles and advancements made to ensure equality and justice for all, then we will always and only discuss history and never be doers in history. For all of the headaches that afflict the black community, simply reflecting on history is not enough today, for an entire month, or year. Black History Month, once upon a time, was necessary, and that was a time when simply recognizing history was progress. Make no mistake, America has made considerable progress, but to continue to see progress and move towards a more perfect union, we must vigilantly and meaningfully remember with context and never forget, promote black history to a year-round, permanent position, and discuss cultural and social aspects affecting or dealing with the black American experience.

*Niggerization is neither simply the dishonoring and devaluing of black people nor solely the economic exploitation and political disenfranchisement of them. It is also the wholesale attempt to impede democratization—to turn potential citizens into intimidated, fearful, and helpless subjects. – Cornel West, whose most recent book is Democracy Matters (2004) and whose most recent CD is Never Forget: A Journey of Revelations (2007), is a professor of religion at Princeton University.

A Radical Solution

I believe we can solve the problems of urban education in our lifetime.

Now, anyone that knows me knows that I’m, by no stretch of the imagination, a cheerleader or mascot for Teach for America, and no this isn’t a post aimed at tampering with the glorious pedestals upon which TFA sacredly and preciously rests: I’ll save that for another time. Though, TFA’s message and mission are ideals that I think most people in education profoundly agree with, that “one day, all children in this nation will have the opportunity to attain an excellent education.”

As many Americans well know, we have not seen that day, and even with the fiercest of programs, litigation, efforts, and reforms, I’m not confident that we’re on track to witness that day in our lifetime.

As long as we have a tax-based education system where school funding is apportioned by property taxes and the values of the homes within a given zip code, all children will never have the opportunity to obtain an excellent education. I don’t believe we will ever achieve educational equity under this particular funding mechanism.

Education experts can fully agree that failure stems from a host of sources, such as out-of-school factors, a “broken system”, the vicious school-to-prison pipeline and zero tolerance policies, the failure of educational and juvenile justice systems to work together, teacher ineffectiveness, the narrow focus of standardized testing and the unintended consequences of accountability, sub-standard curriculum, and dilapidated facilities.

A poisonous and ignorant belief is that “because it’s not affecting me, then I don’t care about it…that, as long as it’s not my kids failing; it’s those kids who don’t want to learn or it’s those kids whose backgrounds are too rough for them to learn.”

Imagine a system where all of the “those kids” became all of our kids. Before you think this is a mere talking point, please keep reading.

Imagine a system that actualized the dream of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., what he referred to as “an inescapable network of mutuality”. The fate of each of us is tied to a single garment of destiny, that whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.

Imagine a system where the educational stakes are identical for the wealthy family of the CEO husband, stay-at-home mom, 2.5 kids, a golden retriever and a white picket fence and for the single, divorced mom on welfare who works three jobs just to meagerly scrape by to provide for a family of six.

To witness TFA’s one day, to make those kids our kids, to fulfill the dreams of King — something radical must happen, and when we have the futures of kids who come from wealthy backgrounds in that “single garment of destiny” as we do kids taken hostage by the achievement gap, then we have reason to hope.

An idea that has been kicked around for decades, my radical solution to solve urban education is quaternary:

1. Outlaw private schools, except for religious institutions

2. Assign every child in this nation to a public school by random lottery

3. Fundamentally reframe teacher education programs in the country to meet the demands that a truly diverse school community would call for.

4. Draft teacher effectiveness legislation for every state

Do I believe this is likely to happen? No.

Do I think that everyone would agree with this? No.

I am only pushing this radical solution as a theory, placing logistics aside.

Now, politicians’ children, university presidents’ children, actors’ and actresses’ children, Fortune 500 CEOs’ children, doctors’ and lawyers’ children – all of these people will now have a stake in public education.

Now, we have a system that forces attention to public education like never before.

Now, we have a system that delivers the hopes of what Brown v. BOE intended, desegregating schools in the most necessary of ways.

We say we’re working hard to achieve meritocracy, but imagine the differences that children will be exposed to. Imagine what that would do for sociological concepts such as social and cultural capital and reproduction.

Imagine how swift resources would move from one end of the city to the other. Imagine a system of high-quality schools that would be so legendary that President Bush’s No Child Left Behind and President Obama’s Race to the Top initiatives would look prehistoric and silly.

In short, to end the urban education catastrophe, we must force everyone into this fight of public education and make people feel its importance and urgency. Only by forcing the powerful, the wealthy, those with clout and the leaders of our nation into the same situation as people who are poor, or people who are powerless, or people who don’t have lobbyists, or don’t have clout can we expect to gain meaningful ground in terms of education reform. We cannot expect education to become a national priority until the entire nation has a vested interest.

As our country becomes more diverse in every imaginable way, our nation must act radically before we feel and the see the effects of the achievement gap more than we’re already feeling and seeing those effects today.

Failing schools means failing children, failing children means failing communities, and failing communities means a failing nation.

The time for boldness is now.

The State of American Education: The Era of ‘Obama-cation’

“What we need are teachers who don’t make excuses,” said Philadelphia Superintendent Arlene Ackerman. “I don’t want to hear about bureaucracy. We have always had bureaucracies…We are looking for people who say ‘I can teach a rock to read.’…If it is not the right place for you, then you should find another place to go.”

Attending a panel discussion at the University of Pennsylvania on how to improve the educational outcomes of men of color, I was stunned in what I saw and heard from our nation’s top education leader.

Ackerman’s churlish response to a fellow Teach for America teacher who inquired about how to provide meaningful education while juggling the pressures of the School District to increase test scores made one thing clear to me: the state of education in America is in peril.

As a Philadelphia teacher, few of my colleagues can seek to empower students to think critically or to be fierce, independent social scholars. Instead, most of us are relegated to teaching strategies, tips, and tricks on selecting the best answer on a multiple-choice exam. In short, we treat students like stagecrafts, training them to do precisely what we say, not to think incisively and critically for themselves. When did education become this way?

One word: “Accountability.”

Watching President Obama’s State of the Union, I was inspired in his rightful elevation of teachers. I thought, “Finally, teachers will be valued more than low-skilled workers and technicians!” Yet, reflecting on his policies and goals, I began to question the purpose of education under an Obama administration.

Schools and their districts are held accountable through standardized testing performance. Schools must “meet” certain scores to be rewarded or simply remain in the clear, and if they fail to provide evidence of progress, then heads fly.

Now, I’m confident that no one disagrees with the concept of accountability. After all, it gives us peace at night to know without a doubt that our students and children are learning and making progress. But, are our students learning and making progress meaningfully?

While I am an avid supporter of President Obama, his policies are not conducive to meaningful education for students.

Education must stimulate students to think provocatively on their own. It must enable young minds to engage in complex and sometimes controversial discourse on any given topic. Education must immerse students in the deepest of problems, and we must provide them with the tools to adequately evaluate and ameliorate those challenges. This is the only road to true freedom, growth, and self-discovery in our ever-increasingly competitive country and world. This is, and should be, the principle purpose of education.

Instead, we have teachers acting and reading from scripts like robots. We have students mindlessly completing copious amounts of worksheets only to prepare for exams and receive letter grades that do not reflect a true education. And, how dare we wonder why the education field fails to attract high-achieving minds…

For a president so fixated on the ideals of democracy at its core, and a president that is my greatest role model, I fear that Obama’s education policies are unfortunately off-the-mark and not in the best interest of our children’s futures. Make no mistake: Obama’s education reforms will do little to improve the education of our country.

I want my students to think critically and rise above the confines of their own selves to promote the general welfare. I want them to lead a nation that is able to ask what they can do for their country without seeking to advance their own self-interests. I want them to be more than simply intelligent, but to also possess character, integrity, and leadership. And, like our president, I want for them, most of all, to fulfill their lifelong ambitions and God-given potential to reach the highest positions that our country and world has to offer.

If our students and children are only able to postulate answers to mindless multiple-choice testing drills, then I’m afraid my dreams will only be in the potential and promise of our democracy and never in the realities of our time. Worse, my students’ dreams will never be reachable.

This is not the purpose of education. We are better than this, America. It is imperative that we restore an education system that truly operates in the best interest of our posterity and nation.

And, by the way, how do you teach a rock how to read?

Old South ‘Nigger’ is the NewSouth ‘Slave’

Since when did the word ‘slave’ become equivalent in meaning, historical connotation, and impact to the word ‘nigger’?

There is no historical, specific implication behind the world ‘slave’ and to whom it refers to. A slave could have existed at any point throughout world history, been Egyptian, Polish, or Asian, or of any race or hue.

Niggers were chattel: teased and raped, spat upon and whipped, shackled and chained, and, oftentimes, treated no more humane than filthy vermin found hiding and scurrying ’round the master’s house.

Don’t get me wrong: ‘slave’ is bad, but ‘nigger’ is far worse. ‘Slave’ and ‘nigger’ are incomparable in meaning and impact by all stretches.

As a concerned high school history teacher, our secondary education American history curriculum is in crisis–it has become further removed from the truth than ever before, and a professor and small publishing company of my home state, Alabama, isn’t helping.

Eyes widened and jaws collided with the floor over Mark Twain scholar and editor of NewSouth Books, Inc. Alan Gribben’s well-intentioned plan to publish a new edition of Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. The new edition trades the word ‘nigger’ for the word ‘slave’ in the name of children nationwide and the increasing inaccessibility and repudiation of the text.

Perhaps, some teachers find teaching significantly painful history, like ‘Huck Finn’, challenging to explain and navigate. Perhaps, children do find historic institutions, like the horrors of slavery, actually ‘unpleasant’. Perhaps, every child in America will read the revised text, and perhaps we will discover fresh life lessons in these ‘new’ adventures of ‘Huck Finn’.

This may be true. This may be conveniently comforting. There may be worthwhile teachable moments.

But, at what costs and to what end?

Educated as a black youth in a segregated Alabama, I am no fan of any semblance of the protean N-word; however, excising ‘nigger’ from ‘Huck Finn’ allows for us to duck essential conversations about history that we must all have, especially with children. An edited version allows for children to move forward in comfortable darkness with no gauge of how horrendous our country once was and treated fellow Americans. Worse, it rebuffs rightful celebration of how much collective progress we’ve made as a nation. If there is anything our country has always prided itself on, it has always been our ability to weather the toughest of obstacles as a collective people and to be more united and improved thereafter.

As a corps member of Teach for America, I landed a teaching post at a 99 percent black, college preparatory, all-boys’ high school in Philadelphia, PA. Would it surprise readers if I stated that I hear euphemisms of ‘nigger’ more than 200 times bi-weekly? While my students understand that the word is the atomic bomb of racial slurs in its historical context, their generation lives in an era of “Snoop Dog”, “Eminem”, and “Lil’ Wayne”, an age where euphemisms of ‘nigger’ thrive in popular culture as endearing sentiments without regard to historical and cultural context. So, while I understand appropriate discomfort with the slur, I wonder what American children are traumatized by the word ‘nigger’? On the first day of school, I self-committed that I would sensitively and carefully teach history accurately, not watered-down versions that make me or my students feel good. The charge to teach truth lies in teachers.

History should be provocative. And yes, our past does have some disgusting moments. In my classroom, I tell my students that it’s appropriate to feel discomfort given the subject. The era of slavery was not a comfortable period for African-Americans centuries ago, and, rightfully, I do not expect my students to reflect on slavery without some apprehension today. The justice of today is reciprocal with the honesty of yesterday. If we fail to discuss and stomach the embarrassments of our past, then we will never overcome the many injustices that continue to plague our country in the future. That’s why we continue to struggle with race relations today.  Without facing our past and discussing it openly, there will be no progress. Accurate history affords us mobility.

Authoring a novel is a painstakingly meticulous process: Mr. Twain authored his works, as any artist, exactly as he intended. Mr. Twain choose to use ‘nigger’ 219 times for a reason, and that’s to reproduce the severity of the harm that racism does in America and to illustrate the American lexicon of the 19th century, not because he was racist and pro-slavery, because he was neither.

Yesterday, it was the decision to ignore the histories and near genocide of the indigenous populations of the Americas, peddling that Christopher Columbus, the greatest mass murderer of collective world history, is some courageous explorer, and so much so that he deserves his own American holiday like Martin Luther King, Jr.  Today, it is the efforts to diminish the turpitude of the Old South’s past enslavement and subjugation of African-Americans by NewSouth, seemingly ironic in the convenient name of the publisher and the history in which it is attempting to whitewash. Tomorrow, who knows where it will end?

Only history knows.

What’s Skin Color Really Got To Do With It?

As a precursory note, the hope of this post relies on my efforts to address what I have learned about myself in the context of race, class, and culture, and to examine the construction of my students’ understandings of race, class, and culture since teaching. Additionally, I seek to explore the meanings of these notions as an educator. Ultimately, the hope is to acquire strategic solutions to mitigate racial, cultural, and classist obstacles in the microcosmic level of my sole classroom, though, as a first-year teacher, these obstacles seem no less formidable than those at the core of the urban education crisis itself. Truly, for these reasons, urban teaching is tough, endless work, despite how well-educated or how intuitively an educator understands the complexities of race, class, and culture of students in urban environments.

Usually, I find auto-biographical work self-indulgent; but, having my students reflect on the latter ideals meant that I had to reflect, too.

SHATTERING–the singular, most accurate description, in one word, that offers sufficient justice to my initial moments of the first time I recognized race.

Black cuisine, black dialect, black, whooping religion, black music, black people–throughout my formative development as a child, I never recognized race. The fact that most of my friends were products of fatherless homes and that the conditions of my school and community were tumbledown, at best, never struck me as black issues. Even though I had working-class white friends, I unconsciously grouped them with me and other black comrades, granting them access to the peculiarly, and oftentimes exclusively, lexicon of blackness. And so, the complexities of class were never obvious to me, that class bleeds into race, which makes it possible to hold a consanguinity of blackness–even if one’s skin is not black.

For example, the endearing semblance of the “N-word”, nigga, was commonplace in the vocabularies of my black and white childhood friends–this is the notion that my white friends, many of which were less affluent than me, were no less a part of blackness than me. Yet, slowly penetrating my skin like millions of sharp needles, “nigga”, when used among my newly befriended white, suburban classmates felt different. Reflecting on that experience, I realize that I began to process and understand the legitimate toll of harm packed in the seemingly innocuous before “N-word”, and that usage of this word holds considerable consequences simply on the basis of the user. Conversely, it is important to note that I believe that my urban, white friends at the time, holding comparable socio-economic status, would have experienced as just as much challenge as I did acculturating to middle-class whiteness, despite their white skin.

Never had I considered race, class, or culture, much less the interconnectedness of the three–one passing into the other, forming the greatest American barrier of divisiveness. Clearly, I was insulated in–and by–my own blackness.

This vile ignorance was born of the same seeds, of the same roots, and of the same beast: the white-wash insulation of my white high school classmates was no less damning than the charcoaled insulation that had barricaded me. Skin color had little to do my insulation, or my middle-class, suburban friends’ insulation, hence many experiences and regard of disadvantaged whites in America. Blackness and whiteness, alike, exist as identities, ideologies, and institutions, not as skin colors. I became aware of my insulation, when, at the age of fourteen, I moved from the soot-covered, all-black inner city to the white picket fences of all-white suburbia. From one insulated society to another, my world, and everything I held to be familiar, was shattered. These paradoxical experiences–the clashing of white and black worlds–are the best thing that ever happened to me.

Bleeding as ink on wet paper, the juxtaposition and blending of race, culture, and class in my own life may provided some entry and glimpse into the divisiveness of American society through my eyes, specifically within the local community of my students. Growing up, I dare advance the claim that my black community only conditioned its members for its own set of values and standards, often times values reinforcing white supremacy or preventing upward socio-economic mobility. Alternatively, the white community that I later joined only conditioned its members for its own set of values and standards, often times values acting as steps of “the great American ladder of conventional success”.

For example, as a black youth in all-black, low-income elementary and middle schools, academic success was equated with whiteness, that being inquisitive, reading books, and exhibiting academic excellence–encouraged and commended actions for all Americans–was viewed as “acting white” and “un-cool” among my black classmates. This, too, is the case among my students. And, on the other hand, in my all-white, middle-class high school, in the suburbs of Alabama, I found the exact opposite, that being smart, answering questions, and being academically well-positioned were the popular things to do, and that one’s popularity was often tied with the largeness of one’s drive to achieve.

This lone comparison of behavior, seemingly apples to oranges, is drawn to show the magnitude of difference and dynamics that characterize the two worlds. A member of these two environments, where race and class are the pivotal factors that mold culture, was key in my development as an adolescent and my own understanding of race, class, and culture today. I provide this example to also point to one example of how my students construct race, class, and culture.

Attending a predominately white, middle-class University of Alabama at Birmingham (UAB), an institution of great diversity I must add, my election to the student body presidency would have been impossible had I not acquired a capital of culture that lends itself to more than one race, class, and culture. Understanding institutions, cultures, and ideologies of people different from me in the formative years of my life crystallizes and reaffirms who I am.

Like crabs in a barrel, what I fear most, and one of the greatest challenges to mitigate among my students, as aforementioned, is the notion of “acting white”. This idea –“acting white” — is at the heart of black America, but is truly infectious among all minorities of color. When minorities of color are successful, well-off, or educated are labeled as “white” by its own members, it backpedals the particular community of minority status. When I examined the Teachers College of Columbia notion of “racial microaggression”, the “brief and commonplace verbal, behavioral, or environmental indignities that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative racial slights and insults toward people of color”, I whole-heartedly endorse this idea. Undoubtedly, this exists; however, what fails to receive more attention in our society is the notion of “acting white”, which seems to be negated microaggression, or simply, “reverse” racial microaggression, where assaulters are not white or operating from privilege, but of the same race, class, and/or culture.

Today, members of minority communities, as has been the case for at least a century, patronizingly discount its own members – who are successful – for “acting white”. This, to me, is considered a “microinsult”, an act that seeks to demean another’s racial identity (274, Teachers). Yet, the nasty reality of this form of microaggression lies in the perpetrator, who is not white, but instead, a member of the victim’s own racial, cultural, and/or classist community. This is one challenge among the students that I teach in which I hope to develop remedies to reverse; it is a widespread epidemic.  While this is a very hefty challenge, even on a micro-level as small as my sole classroom, I think that it is ameliorant with the right course of actions, rhetoric, and ideology.

The second challenge of interest is instilling hope in my students. As evidenced in Chapter I: “The Roots of the Racial Wealth Divide”, The Color of Wealth, there are strong sentiments about economic success in America, and rightfully so. For example, “White Americans in particular tend to believe that the playing field is now level…In 2004, 77 percent of white respondents said they believe that African-Americans have as good a chance as whites to get any kind of job for which they are qualified. Only 41 percent of blacks felt the same” (2, Wealth). This notion comes unsurprisingly. When reviewing polls and other statistics that point to how economically stratified American wealth is – by race – the conventional tools of logic are not enough to convince children of color that what they are doing now, in high school, will equate to meaningful results, like future economic success. Oftentimes, and unfortunately, students fail to complete homework, or even come to school at all, because they do not connect their educational success to their lifelong prospects. Another reason of this cultural disconnect may exist by residing in a financially abysmal household.

The conclusions that I am interested in drawing are complicated. Many of the problems in urban communities that make teaching difficult in these communities are problems that may exist because of historical experiences; they may exist because of Jim Crowism and Jim Crowism Jr. While I can conjure countless hypothetical root causes of plight within minority communities, these problems may continue to be exacerbated by the communities themselves.

As a black male, I have been labeled as a sellout to my own race because I have values typical of white America, yet I have been praised by the same people for this work in urban education. For my students, I find that gauging the internal pulse of students is difficult when having talks about their success and race; because they respond with bleak prophecies when we discuss their potential or future, and they, unfortunately, blame their race for any future shortcomings. Yet, when I say that it is completely within their scope to be successful, and I use myself as an example, they say I’m different. This is more of a cultural and cognitive battle, than it is the idea that schools are “unequal”. There needs to be an rhetorical overhaul in schools, because the tone and messaging seem inaccurately calibrated.

I have committed myself to reversing mindsets of the students in my classroom, from the “acting white” phenomenon to their valuations of race, class, and culture and what that has to do with being successful. And, most importantly, that is it possible to be both black and successful.

Teaching Civics has made conversations of race, class, and culture commonplace and real, and it has made me more committed to de-constructing these sentiments, on a small scale, that works against black advancement. I believe I have made meaningful progress. My work, to me, has become national in significance, and it keeps me grounded and passionate about teaching. While urban education may be challenging–perhaps with obstacles insoluble in my lifetime–it is rewarding to see the resolve of my classroom, a community of students who have the potential to succeed by any gauge, so long as they are willing to work hard and believe that they can achieve.

NERD! – You’re Acting White…But, Keep Reading!

When she told her seven year-old, black daughter that she’d be a nerd and dubbed as “white” in school, my gut expression was a silent, cold look of stern exasperation and “Are you serious?”

Filled with hope and admiration at the sight of a young black woman instilling a love of intelluctual curiosity in her daughter with books and learning materials for the both them in hand, I quickly became conflicted with a feeling of despair and scorn.

“I’m a nerd”, the young, black mother empahtically reported to her daughter as they coasted down the Barnes & Noble escalator. Taking in the rich aroma of Italian Roast coffee and only a few steps above the young daughter and mother, I couldn’t help but wiretap their conversation; quickly, though, my own self-skirmishes with balancing “coolness” and “intelligence” quickly flashed as I took in deep whiffs of nostalgia and Starbucks.

The mother was a nerd growing up. Teased because she always had a book in hand — or several — she lamented about how she was made fun of. The daughter listened silently, her eyes fixated and showing undivided attention as if she was entranced by the latest of cartoons.

The mother was also labeled “white”, because, and in her words: “Being black means that you talk ghetto, that you’re not in the best classes, and that you act like ya don’t care, and, on the flip side, speaking properly, being in the smart classes, and caring about school means you’re acting white”.

I had no doubts that this mother wanted for her daughter to succeed: it was horribly obvious.

The mother began to engertically fortell her daughter’s fate: that she, too, would be a nerd AND called “white” in school, that she’d inherit negative labels — as if passed down through her mother’s DNA — because of a culture that trades “intelligence” at the sake of “coolness”, “linguistic correctness” for fear of being “a sellout to one’s race”, ultimately, translating into a simple trade-off: “success” for “failure”.

Growing up, I remember being “whitewashed”, equating scholastic achievement with whiteness. It was because I made good grades, most of the time, and that was mostly born of a fear of making bad grades because I knew what retributive actions my parents would take if I didn’t do well.

The notion that a black kid with a book is acting white is not only real, but comepletely counterproductive; it’s divisive at a time when the black population is already subjugated by the achievement gap and other factors. Comparative studies do exist that cite attitudes of “intelligence versus coolness” existing more frequently in Latino and black communities more so than white communities; more in less affluent areas than in affluent areas.

Entirely, though, it’s not simply about making “good” grades. This “acting white” notion is as much a behavioral issue as it is cognitive. It’s talking too properly that you stick out  like a sore thumb that earns you a status of “whiteness”; It’s having so many white friends that you seem disconnected from the black student population; it’s about how you dress and your “swagger”. It’s about American popular culture and our heavy, mainstream emphasis on the “get rich, quick scheme — “getting something for nothing”, and “working as little as possible to make it as big as you can”.

Why isn’t it cool to be smart?
Why do children demean other children for knowing something about something, and why is it cool for children to know nothing about nothing?

What struck me as even more alarming than the idea of children putting down other children was that this woman, the mother, the adult, was telling her child that she’d be a “nerd” and “white” because she’d be “smart”.

While I do not, and probably will never claim to be, an expert on child-rearing or parenting, simataneously lifting children up while tearing them down, that they can’t be both “smart” and “cool”, contributes to the failure of this lower-achieving minority and disadvantaged population. It creates an added stress and struggle for kids already in the worst of circumstances and in the worst of schools.

The term “nerd” carries a degragatory connotation; a “nerd” is someone that doesn’t have friends; someone that is awkward, unnattractive, shy, and/or socially inept; while the “nerd” is smart, the nerd is not cool. Who wants to be a nerd?

And, who wants to be called a different race – a sellout, a trader – because of doing what’s right, what you’re supposed to do, what every child should be doing? Why should a child be openly chastisted for academic success?

The question is how do we eradicate this thinking?

But, an important overarching, big-picture question is: What’s really fueling the achievement gap?

Sure it’s a lack of resources, parental invovlement, failing schools, poor leadership, and a host of other institutional problems, but, I think it’s crucially important that if we want to solve this problem, that we look at everyone in the situation – even the students. Social diseases such as the “acting white” phenomenon fail to receive much light; we can’t solve problems by using the same thinking we used when we created them. All issues must be on the table.

What are the effects of this social ill?

Does it stem from the way schools are set up or operate?

Can this phenomenom shed light on racial and ethnic gaps in test scores? the underperformance of minorities? the lack of representation in professional schools and fields?

What are its implications and how damaging can it be/has it been/will it be if it’s not curbed?

White Savior Mentality and The Future of Race and Diversity in America

“Does Alabama still have race riots?”

“How are things down there…hopefully better?!”

“I know you’re conditioned for this hot weather, so you should be used to this [103 degrees of smoldering heat]!” (“As though 103 degrees isn’t hot to me…hot isn’t hot…In fact, let me go get a jacket…this is actually a bit chilly?!”)

My personal favorite: “I know you are so happy to be out of that state!” (As if the 13th Amendment was abolished this year, or better yet, as though I came straight from the Amistad to the North)

These are few of the several innocent, fun-poking, yet very real sentiments that found ways to express themselves towards me because of the history and/or climate of my state/region. Before I begin, I’d like to state that I have thoroughly enjoyed TFA and getting to know many of the people in the organization, but there have been particular eyebrow-raising moments…

Frustrating is the most satisfactory term that I can come up with to describe how certain moments of this experience have been.

Most vividly, above all aforementioned comments, ignorance nastily exposed itself in the form of the “White Savior Mentality” or WSM, white people who deem themselves as saviors hoping to “save their [black/low-income] children”; that hope to set them up for “success”; that they may lead them to “salvation” through their very white lens of “success”.

DISCLAIMER: I’m reluctant to post this publicly in fear of offending some people, including my friends. My intent is not to demean or pinpoint any one particular person or even offend groups of people. The intent of my post is to simply draw from my recent experiences and interactions to frame a concept.

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Throughout the course of our training at TFA (teaching experiences with one of the roughest high schools in Philadelphia), I heard that “these kids have little to no values”. I heard WSM expressed as “bleeding hearts that feel so sorry for the children that they feel it is their right to save them because their parents must not care very much for them.”

Growing up in or around a pre-dominantly homogenous religion, race, political and cultural community can make foreign ideas seem wrong or poorly calibrated. But, until you know the life of “these or those children”, then you can’t attempt to save them. In fact, what you think is “little to no values”, may be rich values. You can only become aware of different ways of thinking, living, and acting when you’ve been exposed to them. You can’t “fix” someone’s way of life. You can’t fit a people into a different “way of life”. Focusing on the strengths of a community rather than the negatives, developing trust, and opening yourself to a community is how you have the greatest impact on forging ideal relationships and fostering true change. In turn, from my own firsthand account, what colleges you’ve attended, if you have more degrees than a thermostat, what positions you’ve held, what third world countries you’ve saved, what wars you’ve arbitrated, and who your father may not be as important as you think to children…unless your dad is really cool or you have good stories that relate to teaching, which is possible and very awesome.

Nothing has seemed more vexing than the “I’m-going-to-save-the-poor-black-children attitude and set them on the gateway of success”, clenching something indescribable on my insides that can only be expressed as a mere shake of the head in utter disbelief.

WSM has framed at least one theory for me:

The good health of racial injustice in America is not [entirely] the fault of historically repressed parts of our country; it’s no longer just slavery, black codes/Jim Crow laws, or the KKK: There are still racist ideas and people today. But, the problem now, what continues to act as a pacemaker for racial inequity, is an ignorance born of privilege and complete unawareness. This idea of not knowing because of insulation.

As popular as WSM seemed to be, I was surprised to find that hardly any of these folks wanted to have serious conversations about what racial inequality is or means, the impact of growing up black as opposed to white, what it means to teach in an urban setting, such the conditions and backgrounds many of the students come from, or what perceptions students may develop of teachers. Make no mistake: teaching is definitely about touching lives; but, what will community members think of the privately educated graduate who has never experienced anything unlike their insulated settings/ideas/communities who thunders into a school with the “savior” or “Superman” mentality?

Let me not forget the comment, “I want to live where my kids live so I can go through what they go through, feel the same pains, and live the same lives so I can relate to them.”

These and other seemingly benign mentalities are dangerous constructions that are as destructive and harmful to equality as malignant constructions meant to preserve white dominance. These mentalities aren’t meant to be malicious — most white people don’t believe racism is a true problem while many people of color do (hence our inability to wrap our arms around racial inequity  as a nation — “What is racism or discrimination?”) While these present-day mentalities aren’t typically products of ill will, they are no less detrimental, audacious, and underhanded as D.W. Griffith’s Birth of a Nation.

These ideas are as dangerous as believing that because our nation elected its first black president then we’ve “reached a culture of total unquestionable equality”. Even at TFA, I recall overhearing that Obama’s election signaled the dream of Martin Luther King Jr. no longer a dream, but reality, that race is no longer a barrier to achievement.

Let us not forget that it was just hundreds of years ago that black hands aided in the labor force that built the now “not so White” House.

And so, I draw these analogies and lines because I believe deeply that these unowned, mindless notions will be the drivers of the future of race relations in our nation. Just as words scribed as the Declaration of Independence answered the fiery debate of slavery at its core, “…that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness”, we will not be able to solve problems of race until we work and understand each other as a United States, not a poor, black, democratic country or a privileged, educated, white country.

We must deconstruct white privilege, the root of WSM, as well as other mentalities.

What does it mean to be black? What does it mean to obtain a public education as a black student?

What are the implications of attending a racially and culturally homogenous school?

How will people who are insulated in and by their own race and culture be able to interact and accurately perceive situations in which they have never had to do?

Do educators of different color generate assumptions, generalizations about students of color versus their white peers?

How are those assumptions translated into the treatment or expectations of students?

Following the election of our nation’s first black president, should affirmative action be abolished? Does his election mean that we’ve crossed the finish line of racial inequity?

Is racism, benign or malignant, a permanent stain on the American establishment, that the superficial construction of racial superiority created by whites is an indestructible part of American society?

Will we ever achieve a full equalized society where every individual feels that he or she is not discriminated against on the basis of what defines them, like race?

Or, are we, the American people, a people capable of forging a nation that lives up to what our founding fathers embedded 223 years ago?

Of course, we’d like to think that we are a people capable of forging a nation that embodies unconditional equality.

In the same way that it’s impossible for limbs of a human body to function with a disconnected brain, if we’re not working in coordination with every part of our country, then we won’t move forward as one…or at all. Racial injustice is not a white problem or a black problem: it’s an American problem with many roots, not just privilege.

I’m optimistic about our ability to make strides and more progress as a nation, but I simply question the power  and timeliness of our democracy to live up to its potential. And this idea doesn’t just apply to race, it applies to age, cognitive style, culture, disability (mental, learning, physical), economic background, education, ethnicity, gender identity, geographic background, language(s) spoken, marital/partnered status, physical appearance, political affiliation, religious beliefs, and sexual orientation!

HDS

The Power of One: My TFA Institute Experiences

The power of one is incalculable.

38 days, 750+ hours, 5 averaged hours of sleep per night, 14 wonderful Latino children, a 53 point classroom gain in five weeks, more than 500 awesome people committed with passion and zeal to end the greatest divider and challenge of our time, the achievement gap. And, one; 1 represents the immeasurable transformations that occurred throughout my Institute experience, and, with urgent fierceness, unveiled the potential of even wilder change.

Coming from the South and relatively modest, yet middle-class means and values, I had no idea what I was getting myself into, teaching social studies at one of Philadelphia’s most troubled high schools was a challenge that I undoubtedly inherited from being accepted into this extremely selective program. On my way to the airport, aboard the aircraft, in the cab ride to the University of Pennsylvania, our host site for the first week, and walking up the steps of University City High School and taking in the city atmosphere of bustling cars, businessmen rushed with coffee, and  the smiling, warm faces of TFA staff, I wondered what I had gotten myself into; moreover, I wondered how committed everyone else was to teaching in an urban environment….

Everyone seemed to be just as accomplished as everyone else. Some of the remarks of my fellow TFAers led me to believe that that some did it because they had no idea what to do after college; that some did it because it looked good on their resume; or, that some did it because they had never failed at anything. Over time, these exposed and expressed themselves as confessions and humors during light and leisure time as people began to grow more comfortable around each other.

But, for me, I rationalized with myself the tragedies of how growing up in a troubled community is. I had family who lead rough lives, but I had never known it for myself. I wondered how being born into a particular income bracket or zip code determines one’s education — I almost felt what it must feel like, but I quickly realized I was no where even close. I offended my own self. Almost as an inescapable, unfair web or intervention of social Darwinism, weeding out those that aren’t atop or positioned for decency on the social hierarchy, I thought to myself how wrong and unfortunate it was. And so, throughout the first few days, I acclimated and committed myself more to the idea of teaching in an urban setting and what it actually means and takes.

Over a five-week span, stories were narrated to us that gripped stomaches and hearts in one swoop. We were forced to think and react in some of the most uncomfortable of positions and vantages. This was real. These were real lives that had been on the line. This was America.

Teach for America provides training and guidance to ensure that we’re not too blind-sighted going into our respective classrooms in the fall, that we’ll be able to hurdle pitfalls that may be particularly dangerous. I don’t frame training as the ultimate conditioner for teaching in an urban setting, or teaching at all. As I said, and I just want to be clear, this experience simply exposes us to certain challenges with remedies to help offset the damages and handle situations while under fire with some grace.

Lesson-planning, diversity, race/ethnicity/class, unearned privilege, parents, language barriers, literacy, minorities, stereotypes, assumptions, relationships, difficult administrators, behavioral and classroom management techniques, and investment strategies — these and more made up the entire training, serving as a “crash course” on how best to teach cohesively in an urban school setting.

Ankle-monitors, pregnancies, sagging pants, tattoos, outlandish piercings, foul mouths, cell phones — these are few of the authentic characterizations of some of the kids at the predominantly Lation host school that we were trained at. While I never experienced this growing up in my own public schooling, I knew that I must suspend judgment. I knew that many of these kids had seen and overcome more challenges in their lifetime than I had seen in my own. Some kids came from broken homes, had children themselves, and carried other baggage. I taught a class of about 14 kids in school on the North side of Philadelphia. My kids knew what challenge was, and they were quite aware of how to overcome it.

A few days before I was to teach, I met my summer mentor teacher (the teacher that actually teaches one’s particular subject area at the host school who observes your classroom performance, usually unaffiliated with TFA). Walking into his classroom first thing, I couldn’t help but notice the sizable, more than two-year old “John McCain for President” bumper sticker that adorned his personal space behind his desk. Great: I thought that it’d be helpful to suspend my judgment before writing him completely; though, I admit that he did lose points for the sticker automatically in my book. Talking with my white, nearly 30-something-year-old SMT for about ten minutes defined how I knew my experience and interactions with him would be for the next four weeks: challenging, frustrating, provocative, and unbelievable.

My class was the lowest performing of all history classes in the specific history I taught, African-American. Every classroom took a pre-test to gauge their knowledge and served a strategic base on where we hoped to move them from. These students are in summer school because they’ve taken the course in the regular school year and failed, and that may have been because they didn’t try, didn’t go to school, or legitimately did not pass. My class scored 31% on the pre-test, so, as one could imagine, I knew that I had my work cut out for me. My SMT provided me with what he felt to be helpful advice, and I’ll never forget this happening, a defining moment in my disdain and realization of the achievement gap and race relations in America.

My SMT looked at my roster of kids. “So, what do you think of them?”, I pondered. (All SMTs taught students for a week before TFA teachers in-training taught for the subsequent four weeks). He pointed at a name, “This kid right here…He’s retarded…He doesn’t want to learn…He’s pretty much unteachable; but, most of all, he’s the biggest asshole ever.” Chuckling as though he expected me to join in, “He’s SUCH an asshole. Stupid retard”. I thought this might be a joke, hoping he’d say “I got ya, or you thought I was serious!” However, and sadly, he did not. As he did often, he singled out the kids from the Dominican Republic, proclaiming their hopelessness. “Most of these kids don’t even know how to speak english. They won’t even understand a word you say. They can’t write it. They’re so STUPID! The thing is they’re too lazy to learn it. They just sit there and put their heads down, so you’re going to have to deal with that.” Out of genuine concern for my own ability to teach, I asked how to reach them  if they can’t/don’t want to learn or even comprehend english. “You can’t reach them”, he said. “You might as well not try; don’t waste your time or energy…Some kids in your class probably won’t or can’t learn. It’s reality. Get used to it now.”

This lingo and rhetoric sung as strong and blatant throughout the entire course of my time at Institute as when I first met him. Increasingly, though, I became de-sensitized – I knew that after the kids he dubbed as “unteachable” were, in fact, actually reachable; I dismissed every comment, even his most generous of compliments on my progress. I soon realized that every child could learn, even if h/she didn’t speak english, and that it takes a teacher that’s willing to invest in every child personally to develop strategies and competencies essential to effectively educate every child. Every child wants to and can learn. Period. I gave assessments after every lesson I taught to monitor how much or even if students were comprehending and processing the needed knowledge for passage of our summative assessment:  Good news — they were learning.

I knew that they could prove him wrong.

On the day before our test, I was nervous, even though I knew they knew the information. I wrote the word ‘swagger’ on the board. I asked them to tell me what it means to have ‘swagger’.

[SWAG·GER /ˈswagər/ N.] — how one presents him/herself to the world; shown from how a person handles a situation; displayed in one’s walk.

I told them that students with ‘swagger’ study, focus, and ace tests because they have purpose and know that there is no challenge too great. I told them that I believe that they ALL had swagger. That day, my students inarguably discovered their ‘swagger’, because they aced the exam.

For the appreciation of brevity, he made discriminatory attempts to fail every male and every kid from the Dominican Republic (I assigned grades, but he had the ability to amend my ideas on participation/attendance, which was 10%). Even though all he did was fire up computerized Texas Hold ‘Em in the back of the class daily, if he felt like they didn’t put in appropriate effort, then he could reassign their attendance grades. And so, some kids dropped whole letter grades. Coincidentally, these were the same kids he bashed the most, wholly on the basis of their culture, native language, sex, and ethnicity.

Ultimately, after struggles of him versus TFA/a good school counselor, we were able to rightfully provide every student grades that were reflective of his/her ability and earned marks in my class.

My kids were challenging at times. Did I have students defy my authority? Sure. Did my students break classroom and school policies? Absolutely. But, what I cared about most, what I hoped for was for them to be able to apply learned knowledge to their own lives. We learned that African-Americans knew struggle and overcame. My students learned, but I had a feeling they already knew some life applications. My students knew that being educated at their school was different from how I taught them; I know this because they told me. They said that their teachers didn’t engage with them as though they were people. They merely wrote out of a textbook or listened to lectures. Their teachers didn’t tell them good job or that they could achieve. What’s wrong with this picture? My students appreciated my because I took the time to invest in them personally, and that’s how they were able to achieve what others said they couldn’t.

While I’m not a fan of data or standardized testing (it doesn’t accurately reflect or measure a student’s ability to think critically and solve problems), my students catapulted from 31% to 84% mastery in African-American history. This is definitely something worth celebrating. I was extremely elated. They were so excited and happy. Nearing the end, as they knew their confidence in themselves increased, their investment in me began to flourish wildly, and in turn, my connectedness with them and their lives became more heartfelt and legitimate.

The bottom line is that students can learn and achieve, every one of them in America, even if they come from rough pasts. And, if we don’t get the ‘good’ teachers where we need them the most, in the most challenging schools, then this vicious gap that affects the future of our country will continue to eliminate kids that have potential to succeed if they want to. Far too often, the mentality is that good teachers want to be at good schools and not where the most help is needed, seemingly afraid of the challenges and quality of urban education. Is it more noble to take a more comforting path and not get your hands dirty with children that absolutely need you?

That begs the question — who ends up in the failing schools? People like my SMT. People that don’t believe in the success and potential of every child. Those who seemingly are in teaching for a pay check or something else other than what’s best for children. My SMT is a living example of why there’s an achievement gap.

My summer experience has taught me that the future doesn’t belong to those that are afraid of challenge, failure, resistance, and discomfort. It doesn’t belong to those in a system that don’t believe in every child, or those who won’t even take the time to invest in every child. The future belongs to the few of us still willing to get our hands dirty.

But, make no mistake: I’m not in this movement to be a savior. Me going into a challenging system as some ‘savior’ isn’t how I want to be perceived or labeled what I’m doing, as I heard some of my fellow TFA teachers say they want to ‘save’ their kids. Now, I’m not a ‘savior’, and there’s no large ‘S’ painted on my chest. I’m teaching as a servant, devoted to every child that enters my classroom, that h/she can believe in themselves enough to know that achievement and college is possible and that just because someone didn’t believe in them along the way they can still achieve.

While I did leave a lot of Institute out, I touched on what I thought was most important and pressed on me. Because I set ambitious goals for my students, invested in them as people, worked relentlessly to pursue achievement even in the face of challenges, was my own toughest critic, and strategically planned on how to improve, I learned more about myself than I ever knew. My kids taught me more than I taught them. And, if this of five weeks can serve as any indicator, then I can’t fathom how teaching might be for the next two years.

And, all it takes is one.

One…one SMT that opened my eyes to what the achievement gap is and how fiercely urgent our response must be. One…one African-American History class that may have inspired my students to chase college and their wildest dreams as feverishly and wildly as they did As and Bs on their final exams. Finally, One…one group of students that proved that ALL students can and want to learn if given the opportunity.

I thank everyone in this experience…even my SMT, because the power of one is incalculable.

My first Teach for America experiences

I finally made it to day one of TFA, and this evening marks day two (today being my first actual whole day, though).

The first few hours of TFA Induction, also known as Orientation, were filled with moving in and helping folks move in with large loads of luggage. The weather was hot by Philadelphia standards, but the humidity of Philadelphia was so much more bearable than that of Alabama. The culture of Philadelphia is completely urban and diverse; the city, itself, is simply decorated with so many types of individuals — white, black, Asian, Indian, Hispanic, young, old, poor, rich, professional, gay, straight, religious: It’s quite interesting and refreshing. People are less friendly. There are many more people on the streets.

The University of Pennsylvania, where I’ll be getting my master’s, is absolutely amazing. The campus is incredible. Downtown is built around the historic campus.

The Teach for America corps is full of driven and intelligent people, and it’s a humbling honor to be a part of that sort of dynamic of people. Most people aren’t flashy with their credentials, such as starting successful non-profits, speaking many languages, going to Harvard for undergraduate degree (s), etc; however, that doesn’t mean that those people don’t exist, because they do and I’ve met them. I’ve horribly succeeded, by my standards, of introducing myself as a very open-minded, tolerant, and aware individual, that while you may be from a different region or of a different background, we’re all here for the same reason, to close the same closable achievement gap, and to inspire the same sort of children.

Our first night was an extremely large and corporate welcome dinner. We had second TFA corps members, TFA staff, students of TFA teachers, prospective TFA corps members, and TFA partners speak frankly about the challenges that we’ll face in a very empowering way, and while it was very predictable, it was a great way to welcome us. The food was great. I actually sat next to a very distinguished member of the partnership between the Teach for America program and Wells Fargo/Wachovia.

Her honesty was priceless, and humor, too…She was very frank about how she was a significant contributor of why the diversity of TFA should be insistent on mirroring the diversity and racial make-up of the students that we’ll teach, and I believe that’s absolutely true. She spoke about many of the issues that minority teachers have faced in the past, and the not so difficult challenges that their non-minority colleagues have faced in comparable situations, and it was interesting to note.

Following dinner, we were divided into various small groups based on our subject areas and grade levels. Of course, my placement is secondary social studies; but, because of the disparity of social studies placements, me being one of six out of hundreds, I was placed in a group with bilingual elementary educators: this should be fun.

At first, I wasn’t concerned; however, the only other male in the group definitely, at least from my perception and others, attempted to exert his dominance over me, as if I’d be threatened? I first introduced myself, as others were doing. When he got to me, I told him was where I was from, Alabama, and before the words had time to roll off my tongue, he stated that he could tell by my “accent” that I was from Alabama.

Now, I’m not sure if it’s because you’re in another language other than English or if it’s because you’re simply a confrontational, conflicted person, but that’s not the sort of way I think you should frame yourself upon first meeting them. And, my “accent” is very, very subtle, if there’s even one at all. He and I had several other exchanges, and I felt attacked. For every belief, opinion, or viewpoint, he had a combative, argumentative, opposing viewpoint: It was a constant  game of points, him trying to “one up” me. And so, I deflected every attack, and it was unintentional. At that point, in the heat of the game, I was more concerned with being honest with him and proving what I said as fact. I could tell he was getting testy, but if there was one thing I learned about being SGA President within the Univ. of Alabama System, it was how to turn positives into negatives, and to not look at things at face value. He hated it, and, I suppose I would too if I was defeated…

Then, the next morning, it  hit me! It hit me so hard!

It hit me that he was a perfect example of why I’m here, why I’m doing TFA, and I was so thankful at that moment for his unintentional enlightenment on my behalf, how selfish, right?

I don’t know this guy, and he doesn’t know me, but perhaps his way of coming across was completely normal for him. Perhaps, because of his past experiences, his formative years, or his outlook on life, he wasn’t actually ill-intended, but legitimately unaware, culturally and socially insensitive. Perhaps.

What I began to apply was that teaching in these high-poverty and poor-performing schools is all about turning negatives into positives, the notion that there’s simply too much at stake to get bogged down on what all the school or the student or the parent isn’t doing. Let’s focus on how we’re going to fix the problem instead of perpetuating the problem, and sure, we can identify it to fix it to move forward, but let’s not dwell on it. Additionally, these children, already at the age of 17, 18, and some 19+, will come from communities, conditions, and experiences that I have never experienced and may never could handle or even imagine to handle.

My experience with the other gentleman in the group proved how to be open and receptive (how important that is), how adaptive a teacher must be in such a new setting and at all times, and to focus on the student, but to be understanding of where they come from and that their reality may be skewed, unintended, or, in fact, truly authentic and accurate TO THEM. It’s about seeing what drives people to think, act, and believe what they do, and realizing that we all want to move in the same direction: to teach, to learn, and to succeed.

Institute (training) begins next week, and that is where the true “fun” begins. And, by “fun” I mean hell.

Time for bed. More to come.

My First Job Interview!

Alright, folks! So, I just had my first “real” job interview with a great secondary charter school in Philadelphia via telephone.

The first-year corps of teachers will be participating in a hiring fair in the first couple of weeks of our arrival for TFA Induction/Institute, or teacher boot camp. This particular institution will be unable to send representatives to participate in the hiring fair, hence the early interview.

I think the interview went fantastic, and I can envision myself as a part of the fabric of this school’s aim to improve itself.

Two individuals interviewed me and began by talking about the school, its students, the community, and its expectations. One of the noticeable differences between this school, a charter school, and a public school, a difference that was highly marketed by the two interviewers, was the disciplinary actions that a charter school can take versus a public school. Because a charter school operates much like a private school, accepting/rejecting/dismissing students at will, discipline and safety issues are much less of a variable, unlike a public school where an unruly student has more room/many more chances to be outrageous and misbehave. I thought this was interesting that they’d point this out, juxtaposing themselves to the safety issues/disciplinary problems that are associated with the public school system, almost like a selling point.

The first question that was posed to me was to describe my proposal to Mountain Brook Schools (why I proposed it, how I developed it, how I got it through the school board, etc.).

In 2008, I enrolled in an honors seminar, Research as a Tool for Empowerment, offered by the UAB Honors Program, which creates its own course offerings made up solely of and for students within the very small honors program. The seminar instructor offered us complete freedom to create a social intervention program or action that would, in some way, benefit the broader community of Birmingham, Alabama. Rightfully so, every student in the seminar, with the exception of me, focused on the indigent areas of Birmingham, helping people who need help the most.

Some did book drives for a dilapidated neighborhood library.

Some worked with other UAB students to register minorities to vote.

What I did was a bit different. I proposed a cultural diversity course to Mountain Brook Schools, and anyone that’s familiar with Mountain Brook, Alabama knows that it has a warped reputation for its homogeneity of race, social status, high property values, and its inherent insulation. Being 98 percent white and the richest community in the state of Alabama, I proposed a course that would expose children to ideas, places, and things unlike them through first-hand, interactive experiences, that they may learn more effectively if it were not simply a lecture course, but if they were somehow placed in the shoes of others. In short, the proposal was accepted, but it wasn’t easy.

Back to the interview: they seemed quite impressed with that, and I fed from their energy to be as enthusiastic about their school and ideas. We talked about ways I could employ my experience with Mountain Brook Schools, on a smaller scale, to enhance and create opportunities to wage conversations and experiences atypical of students in their school for the school community, not just the children.

We talked more about their school and they asked more about more things on my resume, like my teaching experiences and other typical interview questions.

It was about a 20-minute telephone conversation, so we shall see.

On another note, I move to Philadelphia for Induction on June 22, and I began TFA Institute the subsequent week, which is code for TFA “boot camp”, where I’ll be getting up around 5:30 every morning. But, I’m not complaining. I applied for this. I was accepted for this. And, I will do this.

Now the real work begins.

That is all for now.