To "like" or not to "like?" That is the question.

Recently, on Facebook, Humans of New York posted the following picture and dialogue of a teacher: 

"I teach fourth grade in Harlem."
"What's your greatest struggle as a teacher?"
"I worry a lot about the kids."
"Why's that?"
"Not all the kids. Just the ones that aren't on the 'college track.' Many of them just don't have a culture of expectation at home, and it's hard work to lift yourself out of an underprivileged situation. I actually just finished going to a trombone recital for a former student of mine. I used to coach him in hockey on weekends. He'd practice with me from 4 AM to 6 AM. Then he'd go practice trombone from 8 to 10. He did all this just so he could get into a good high school. That's what it takes, really. Hard to do without a culture of expectation."

As expected, there was an overwhelmingly positive response of support and gratitude toward this teacher, and all educators, who tirelessly and selflessly work toward helping students achieve success (especially our most marginalized students).  However, while I also commend and admire this teacher's dedication, I could not get myself to "like" the post; the language this well meaning teacher used to describe his "kids," struck a chord of sensitivity. As much as I wanted to "like" the post for his work I felt that I could not do so without a caveat over his use of language in describing that many of the students "don't have a culture of expectation at home." 

Even two days after seeing this post, I find myself thinking about this post, and even more, wanting to engage in a dialogue with this teacher.   I am wondering what he meant by a "culture of expectation?" I am wondering how we, as a society, define a "culture of expectation?" Or more importantly, who has the authority to define a "culture of expectation?" Is it even "right" to say someone can have the authority? If we are to think that our current school system in the U.S. holds the authority, then a "culture of expectation" is equated to passing various standardized tests; which I would argue is a an extremely poor set of expectations which continuously fails to prepare our students for achieving high levels of success, academically and holistically.  

I want to make clear, that in no way am I discrediting or devaluing this teacher. In fact, prior to engaging in the learning and self exploration around cultural conflicts in the classroom and education, I would, and have, used similar language. Even now, being totally immersed in the study of urban education, I continue to find myself and my advisor having to correct and alter my language. I am guilty, and not proud, of describing my students as "at-risk" or not on the "college track."  I have complained that my students leave school only to go to homes that "don't care about or value education."  I have called my students "lazy," "uninterested," and "unmotivated."  I was/am no different than this teacher, well meaning, but naive to the cultural identity, beliefs, and value systems I have brought into my classrooms and, both consciously and subconsciously, imposed on my students. 

However, what I have begun to learn, is that the deeper I authentically listen to my students, their families and communities, and the more vulnerable I become to the "unflattering light of another's angry gaze," the more I am able to put my beliefs on hold and work together to address the more underlying issues of power that negatively impact our poor children and children of color (Delpit, 1995). As educators we can not approach our students through a lens of deficit, which focuses on the 'problems' of our most marginalized groups, rather we must start with the fundamental and institutional flaws that have been created by White dominance (Howard, 2006).

Thus, the above post by HONY only reenforces my belief that there is a great need for all educators, especially white educators, to engage in the reality and discussion of how our own social positionality and history of dominance (white dominance) impacts the quality of education for any group of racial and cultural 'others' in the U.S. (Howard, 2006). It is not an easy nor comfortable journey, but if we are committed to providing quality education for all students, especially are most marginalized ones, I believe it is a necessary one.


Here are some good reads (in no particular oder) to start, or continue, the journey:

• Other People's Children: Cultural conflict in the classroom, Lisa Delpit (1995)

• We Can't Teach What We Don't Know: White teachers, multiracial schools, Gary R. Howard (2006)

• Quality Education as a Constitutional Right: Creating a grassroots movement to transform public schools, Edited by: Theresa Perry, Robert P. Moses, Joan T. Wynne, Ernesto Cortes Jr., Lisa Delpit (2010)

• Finding Joy in Teaching Students of Diverse Backgrounds: Culturally responsive and socially just practice in U.S. classrooms, Sonia Nieto (2013)

• Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Paulo Freire (1970)

"Urban" Education: What's that?

Usually when I tell people that I am getting a masters degree in Urban Education, the common response is "Oh...what does that mean?"  If my brother is in ear shot of the conversation, he is not afraid to chime in and tell them bluntly that I am learning how to teach poor Black and Latino students.  The first time this happened, I was taken a back and felt the need to "soften" and expand on his response explaining how it's not just that, but it's looking at the social, cultural, political, and economic factors that play within urban schools and education, in attempt to make "urban" encompass more than just race and class. But even in my explanation, I realized I too used the word urban, allowing whomever was asking to define urban in whatever way they deem fit; colored with whatever serotypes they may already have had, while not actually ever defining it itself.

The more I learn, the more I understand what it means to be white in the US, and the more I am asked what it means for me to get a masters in Urban Education, the more I realize how accurate  my brother actually is in his response.  So, why then did I feel like his definition was callous and in need of softening, in need of an explanation, when in fact learning how to better facilitate the educational growth of Black & Latino students is exactly my intention?

I recently read an a couple of articles that I think begin to touch upon my discomfort.  In one of the articles, entitled "What Do You Mean When You Say Urban," the author Dyan Watson mentions that when interviewing 17 teachers about what were, if any, the differences between urban and non-urban teaching a teacher responded saying "To me, urban students come from an environment where they can't see the value of education.  They can't see why it matters because everyone one they know, everything that they do, has nothing to do with having an education." And here in lies why I think I was quick to expand on my brother's definition on urban.  Despite the ignorance, and falsity of the statement, this teacher's response is not an uncommon understanding of urban students and urban communities.  I admittedly also held a similar view in my first few months of ever teaching. However, the more I got to know my students and their families, I began to understand just how naive and wrong I was. So when my brother points out that these students are Black and Latino, I am quick to protect, and defend my students and their communities.  I do not want to perpetuate the stereotype that urban = poor Black and Latino communities who do not value education.  To an outsider the perception of issues connected with poverty and race might seem to overshadow a student's priority towards formal education, but that should not be equated to a student's or community's devaluation of education.  

What am I then getting a masters in, you ask....I am getting a masters in uncomfortably exploring my whiteness in contrast and connection to communities of color, in addition to talking about race and examining the social, cultural, political, and economic realities of students and communities of color in relationship to me, their teacher, and the role of public education and school in general, as well as engaging in discourse around how we as a larger community, through education, can better support the Black and Latino communities most in need.  

Yes, a masters in Urban Education is certainly shorter to say, but its title only speaks to its perception and stereotypes and not to its essence and true intention.  

A Reflection: Moving from the dark & difficult to the bright and dazzling

(For one of my courses I am asked to read and respond to articles on a weekly basis.  Here is one of my recent reflections, with hopefully more to come.)

In an article written by my inspiring advisor, Dr. Joan T. Wynne, entitled Moving from the dark & difficult to the bright and dazzling about the school to prison pipeline, she refers to a  TED.com talk by Bryan Stevenson, Director of Equal Justice Initiative in which he states "It's that mind-heart connection that I believe compels us to not just be attentive to all the bright and dazzling things but also the dark and difficult things.” In Wynne's article she connects Stevenson's idea to our current educational system.  She states that for educators, part of the “dark and difficult” is the growth of the school to prison pipeline and its impact on marginalized students and on society’s dream of becoming a real democracy. She continues explaining that another aspect of the "difficult" is the necessary admission by white and female teachers (who make up 84% of public school teacher) that we live in a racist country, benefiting from power and privilege that have an adverse effect on citizens of color. Wynne goes on to argue that "our admission of unearned power and privilege is a crucial starting point if we are to engage in meaningful conversation about justice and equity." Wynne continues to share the "bright and dazzling" that can be found within The Algebra Project movement and its youth-run offspring, The Young People's Project.

In reflection of Wynne's article, her thesis and essential question around the “dark and difficult things” with similar exposure to “bright and dazzling things” embody the reasons I decided to pursue a masters degree in Urban Education.  For the past 7 years I have been one of the 84% of white female public educators, and the growth of the school to prison pipeline is a reality that I am unfortunately all too familiar with in connection to my students.  The more entrenched I became within my profession, and engaged in my students lives; the more I realized the deep seeded racism that continues to permeate policies within our society and schools (especially the racism that I myself was, and still am, clueless too and have benefited from). 

In my experience the first thing that became apparent to me was how the urban schools I worked in were modeled, as Henry Giroux points out, after prisons.  Both in Chicago and NYC, as for district policy, my students were required to enter through metal detectors as they entered the school building.  In Chicago, female and male students had to enter through different entrances, so if necessary they could also be pat down by school security.  In NYC, all students entered through the same entrance but were greeted (or I should say berated) by school security that wore NYPD uniforms. Before any of my students reached my classroom they were already being treated like criminals.  In NYC my students (specifically my male students) endured the effects of the Stop & Frisk policy that contributes to the growth of the school to prison pipeline.  During the summer of 2012 I participated in a silent march in protest of the policy. It was the first time I had ever participated in a march for civil rights. I marched not just as a citizen but also as an educator; I marched for my students, for all students: past, present, and future. I found an incredible power in the sound of silence that day; and for anyone who was watching the march understood that the absence of noise did not mean we were silent.

Too often though, we as teachers are silent. Race is not something that is openly talked about within our school buildings, let alone how it affects how and what we teach. I agree with Wynne, that the shift also has to also happen within the Colleges of Education (COE) to make way for the conversations to begin to happen in the schools.  From personal experience I received little to no understanding of the challenges and issues hindering the educational success of my students.  None of the required courses to earn my degree and teaching certificate looked at the implications and effects of public policies on education or the importance of multicultural education for all students. Luckily, in both Chicago and NYC, I worked for administrators who also believed that such policies deemed by the district were detrimental to the betterment of our students and pushed alternative restorative justice discipline policies, and the implementation of teaching pedagogies whose aim was to increase both the teacher and student creativity and autonomy around learning (with similar attributes to those within the Algebra Project). In NYC I was even allowed to teach a 3 week mini course on the history and evolution of the n-word. Because of my administrations I was asked and encouraged to engage in conversations around race and education. However, when I then began looking for a COE to pursue a masters I was even more limited in finding educational programs that focused on and acknowledge these issues. The teaching profession in the United States is unfortunately still not revered and valued and that is apparent in the operations and admissions in COE.  If COEs and governments (federal and state) were really concerned about the disparities within the public school system, they would begin to honestly explore the injustice and inequity with in our society and how do we continue to close not just the achievement gap but rather the societal gap that exists. But until then, we as educators have to continue the professional development, force the uneasy but important conversations.  And for those of us white females, it must start with the uncomfortable reality of admitting that we live and benefit from the racism still entwined within our society.