I see you

I see you.

I see, you. Both of you.

I see you, through the wall

Built with bricks of

Loss

Pain

Failure

Distrust

SURVIVAL

I see, you. Both of you.

Man. Child.

            Stolen of his youth

Gangster rapper. Poet.

            Rhythms & rhymes of profound insight.

Smoker. Self-medicator.

             Vaccinating the disease of oppression

Instigator. Warrior.

            Courageously fighting an imposed battle

Lazy/unmotivated. Misunderstood.

            Brilliance awaiting the opportunity to shine

Entertainer. Leader.

            Begging to be seen and trusted to lead the way.

Disrespectful smart-ass. Activist.

            A voice yearning and demanding to be heard.

I see you

Who do you see?

Who is staring back at you?

Is it the same staring back at me?

I see you (or so I think).

Now, how do I reach you?...

None of us is as strong as all of us!

As I have mentioned in previous posts, a year ago I moved back home to Miami to pursue a masters degree in Urban Education. Through my program, I have had the opportunity and honor to learn from and with Civil Rights Legend, Dr. Bob Moses.

In connection to my graduate work, I recently accepted a position as The Algebra Project (AP) teacher for a cohort of incoming 9th grade students at Miami Northwestern Senior High School. AP is a nonprofit organization and curriculum, founded by Dr. Moses, aimed to improve the math skills of our country's most disenfranchised students with under-performing math scores. The goal of AP is to prepare these students for college level math for college credit at the time of graduation, and provide them the foundation for future careers in science and technology. The program also incorporates civics education, as a way to help students take charge of their lives and improve their community.

This summer I had the privilege to begin to work with 25 of my students who will be apart of The Algebra Project in the fall. Although we started out as strangers, in 3 short weeks, we came together as a cohort (or "squad" as my students now call themselves) embarking on a journey exploring the language of mathematics through shared experiences and the every day language we speak. The summer was a success; not just for my students but for me me as well, experiencing and gaining the awareness of what it means that "it takes a village." The accomplishments of this summer could not and were not achieved alone; rather rested of the collaboration, help and support of a village: Dr. Moses and another AP coach, FIU grad students, professors & The Education Effect, a group of educators from Ireland, members of a group called The Dream Defenders, and parent & community organizer and her amazing ability to help mobilize and involve the parents and community members of my students.

I would like to invite you to join the village. Please consider supporting our efforts through a donation to our DonorsChoose Project. 

http://www.donorschoose.org/project/help-us-create-our-dream-algebra-project/1261540?utm_source=dc&utm_medium=project&utm_campaign=copyURL&rf=copyURL-siteshare-2014-08-project-teacher_365796

Join the other 39+ donors and help us fulfill our project goal before the school year starts on August 18th. There is no donation too small!

Please also check out these links to learn more about The Algebra Project and see pictures from our summer institute:

• FIU news: http://news.fiu.edu/2014/08/fiu-algebra-project-train-next-generation-of-stem-grads-teachers/79940

• NPR: https://stateimpact.npr.org/florida/2014/07/29/how-the-algebra-project-helps-math-make-sense/

• Pictures: https://www.flickr.com/photos/fiu/sets/72157645721590562

Thank you in advance for any and all your support.  

"None of us is as strong as all of us!"

Decisions In Life

As I begin to close out my year "sabbatical" from the classroom, one thing has become evident: my students are the constant and driving force behind my love, desire, and inspiration to continue teaching and be a life long learner. 

In addition to this blog being a place for me to share my learning and growth, I hoped it to be a platform in which my students (past, present, and future) could also share their thoughts, their insight, and their light.  

I am thus honored to share with you the first contribution by a student, the inspirational voice of Marcos Tellez (UAGC c/o 2015).  Thank you, Marcos. 

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)

PUSH-ing Our Practices

Long before PUSH by Sapphire became the award winning film, Precious, it made my list of favorite and most influential reads as an educator. (So much so, that to this day, I have yet to see the movie).  At the start of each school year, and even sometimes during, I find myself pulling the book back off the shelf to reread, either in its entirety or just in excerpts. With each year of growth, I am drawn and connect to different aspects of the story.  Despite its fiction, PUSH drew upon Sapphire's own experience as a remedial reading teacher in Harlem, and the students she met, whom she described as being "locked-out."  I believe, that the relationship in which Sapphire depicts between Ms. Rain and Precious (and her students in general) can act as a springboard to further a teacher's insight and reflection of his or her own teaching practices and relationships with students.  

Recently I reread an excerpt which Precious depicts her first day in Ms. Rain’s class:

Mz. Rain look pretty bent out of shape then melt, say, "We got more new people than old people today, so let's just go back to day one and git to know each other and figure out what we gonna do here together." I look at her weird. Am' she spozed to know what we gonna do. How we gonna figure anything out. Weze ignerent. We here to learn, leas' I am. God I hope this don't be another ... another ... I don't know—another like before, yeah another like the years before. 

"Let's try a circle," teacher say. Damn I just did sit myself down in front row and now we getting in a circle.

"We don't need all those chairs," teacher say waving at Jo Ann who dragging chairs from second row. "Just pull out five or six, however many of us it is, and put 'em in a little circle and then we'll put 'em back in rows after we finish introducing ourselves." She sit herself in one of he chairs and we all do the same (I mean she the teacher 'n all).

"OK," she say, "let's get to know each other a little bit uummm, let's see, how about your name, where you were born, your favorite color, and something you do good and why you're here." (pp. 41-42)

Throughout the book, Sapphire’s portrayal of Ms. Rain is hopeful, optimistic, encouraged, but also grounded.  From the excerpt above we can learn, essential to the strength and success of Ms. Rain’s class and education, is the importance of building a community with established communal goals.  Ms. Rain’s decision to start from "day one" suggests the significance of recognizing the individuality and uniqueness each class poses. Despite the commonalities, each group of students possesses its own strengths, challenges, needs and desires. Each new individual adds a new dimension to a group, altering the current dynamic, and thus must be valued and considered.  As educators, we cannot assume the education of all students who come from certain socio economic class or cultural backgrounds is the same. Furthermore, as presented in this excerpt it is important for not just the educator alone to be aware of the commonalities and differences that exist, but for all members of the community to be mindful of them. 

In my experience, many teachers understand the importance of "getting to know" their students.  It is commonly in the form of a short personal questionnaire or essay assigned during the beginning weeks of a school year or course.  Usually though, the teacher is the only member of the community who then is exposed to the results. Although, the teacher may now have a better understanding of his or her students, the result of the assignment does not help in building a greater sense of community in the class. Sapphire, through Ms. Rain, teaches us to PUSH our "getting to know you" activities further as a tool to build stronger more cohesive and supportive communities. 

The above excerpt also provides us as educators, another, subtle but invaluable and transformative lesson, through the simplicity of Ms. Rain's physical setup and placement within the classroom.  Her request for the students to arrange the chairs in a circle, in which Ms. Rain also sits within, establishes a communal classroom tone; one where students maintain an equal voice and importance, in the development and collaboration of their individual and collective learning process.  Educators (myself included) talk a good game, but sometimes fault on walking the walk.  Often times, unintentionally, our actions do not always match up with what we preach. And at the risk of being cliche, our actions speak louder than our words. Everything we do as educators sends a particular message to our students, whether it is intended or not. Thus, we must PUSH ourselves to be vigilant in constantly reflecting on our teacher moves, evaluating whether our actions and words are projecting the same message.  Our students will forget our words, but will always remember our actions.  

Cast down your bucket

I have officially finished my first semester of grad school and I couldn't be happier with my decision to temporarily leave the classroom. For me, attending grad school was not an exit strategy to leave the classroom; rather an excuse to recharge, find a sustainable work-life balance, and, possibly most importantly, redefine and discover myself outside of my students in order to be a better educator in return.  This year, has not been without its own challenges, but has thus far lived up to the expectations: a rejuvenating, affirming, proliferating, and humbling experience.  More than ever, returning and remaining a classroom teacher is the ultimate professional goal. (Apologies to all those who have bet on me moving "up" into an administer role.)  

This semester, has forced me to check my ego at the door, exposing the gaps in my understanding of my students and reenforcing that as an educator, especially as a white female within a community outside my own, my learning and growth will never be over.  One of the main lessons I have gained has been the importance for educators to honestly be aware of who their students are.  It sounds simplistic and obvious; a teacher’s job description is to help facilitate learning of their students, so clearly they should know whom it is they are helping.  However, from my own experience, we tend to group our students together and make decisions based on the generalizations (often clouded by our own egos and perceptions) verses truly gaining a better awareness of who are students are and their needs both as students and individuals. 

As an example, when I moved from Chicago, a predominantly African American community, to NYC, a predominantly Latino community, I naively thought I would have little trouble adjusting.  I remember thinking I could use the same lessons, classroom structures and management styles which I employed in Chicago in NYC solely on basis that both schools were servicing, students who were from lower socio-economic minority communities.  How very wrong I was.  Despite the commonalities, my students in NYC had their own unique identities, strengths, and challenges defined by their individual experiences and histories.

Many of the readings and conversations I engaged within this semester highlighted the importance of continuing to broaden my understanding and perception of my students as members of a learning community as well a larger society.  I was encouraged to reflect on relationships with students of years past deconstructing our interactions based on who they were vs. who they appeared and I perceived them to be. In doing so, I have also begun to discover and uncover more about my own identity and insecurities as they relate to the realities of my students, despite the discomfort. 

In the book Radical Equations, Bob Moses, draws inspirations from Ella Baker, who in facilitating the organization of SNCC, taught organizers to “cast down your bucket where you are." Ella Baker urged organizers to become part of the community, learn from it, and become aware of its strengths, resources, concerns, and ways of doing business.  Bob Moses further explains, that the organizer does not have the complete answer in advance. Instead, the organizer wants to construct solutions with the community, understanding that the communities everyday concerns can be transformed into broader questions of general importance.  Most importantly the form of these questions and the actions that follow are not always known in advance.  The organizer helps the community members air their opinions, question one another, and then build consensus.  He goes on to note that this process is a long journey, one with ups and downs and push and pulls - equating the process to a young child who is learning how to walk.  This understanding of an organizer, encompasses my current journey as an educator.  

Since schools never exist outside of the communities in which they service, nor the teachers they employ, it seems natural to view the development of educators, schools and pedagogies similar to that of small or large community movements.  No matter the community, an educator that separates themselves from the rest of the community, blinded by their own ideal visions and research, risks neglecting to honestly cast down their bucket to see where they are in order to thus move forward.  Sometimes I wish there was a do-over button; go back, especially to those first years in Chicago. Instead, as I move forward, I will strive to cast down my bucket, see my students, in hopes to move forward together, as allies.

"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.