hooks 'em horns (get it?)

            Reading bell hooks’ book this past few weeks has been a challenging but enjoyable experience, and it is a book that I definitely recommend to anyone who is interested in issues of race, identity, and the politics of education (especially higher education). The book in a lot of ways has been a roller coaster ride of emotions, and it was not really what I expected when I chose to read it. There were many conversations in this book that challenged my preexisting beliefs about race and education, there were also some ideas that I directly disagreed with, and to be perfectly honest there were a few chapters that felt entirely out of place and unnecessary. It is also important to note that this book did not focus on secondary education at all, serving instead as a rather strong critique of higher education and what I would call “liberal escapism.” Regardless, I think this book has changed my perception on racism and how the forces of domination are held in place within our national structure.

            Throughout our program, we have spent a lot of time discussing racism as a “structure of oppression,” but I think this book has moved me beyond this idea of racism as a structure and has broadened my perspective to view racism instead as a pervasive culture. I appreciate this idea of a culture of racism because racism as a system can be problematic, as it implies that the oppression that comes with racism was actively and consciously established by a small select group of people, and that it is held in place by a small group of conscious decision makers. Not only does this idea let a lot of people off the hook, but also I think it does a great disservice to the magnitude of issues surrounding American racism. White people in general–as hooks would likely agree–tend to oversimplify the issues of racism in order to wash their hands of its harsh consequences, but to approach racism within the context of its vast complications is to give it the respect it deserves. With that in mind, the idea of racism as a system tends to pawn the problem off onto a mysterious group of conscious racists, as opposed to acknowledging that the dominant majority culture within this country is itself a function and facilitator for our mainstream oppressive values.
              Acknowledging that racism is not simply a concocted system but a historical culture allows us to view the idea of "national racial consciousness" (meaning the awareness of racism and appreciation of its complexity within our country) not as something to be conquered but rather as something to be sought out. This can be a rather confrontational idea, however, as it asks members of the dominant society to view their own complicitness (whether active or passive, conscious or unconscious) as problematic. Again, this is often controversial, as bell hooks cites Coco Fusco, saying, “to raise the specter of racism in the here and now, to suggest that despite their political beliefs and sexual preferences, white people operate within, and benefit from, white supremacist social structures is still tantamount to a declaration of war” (35). The provocation that comes from promoting this idea of racism as a culture, in my opinion, is that it forces us to acknowledge that racism is present here, now, and everywhere. Beyond that, it is to acknowledge that by focusing our selective blame on small group of old-white-tea-party pioneers is to deny the pervasive reality of racism within our country. White people can not simply point to other white people as the problem, in hopes of disassociating themselves with the consequences (and benefits) of our racialized culture. 

            Long story short, this book left me with a lot more questions than answers…but when dealing with issues of race and racism I think this is often the case, as racism is not something to be simply “solved.”

"My Sorrowful Heart"

             I had a pretty incredible experience during the final few days of this past week and have brought in some student work to share. Because we finished up our district testing early and had a few extra days to “kill,” I was able to plan out a two-day poetry workshop (which would lead us into our poetry unit that begins on Tuesday of this week). The overall goal for my mini-unit was to free up enough space in the classroom so students could create their own poetry. Basically, I figured that having students create poetry would be the best way for them to learn poetry. My ultimate goal was to have students write their own poems... but since I knew this would be difficult to jump right into (especially because they have not done much creative writing this year), I decided to scaffold the writing experience towards this final goal. With this in mind, the students worked the first day on creating “Found” poems, where they used words and phrases from other sources to create their poems. I thought this would be a unique and fun experience for the students, while also allowing them to essentially pull their poems from a physical “word bank”–thus removing some of the anxiety that comes with creating a poem from scratch. After students completed their poem, the next step was to choose their favorite line from their Found poem and use it as the first sentence of a “Response” poem, in which they used their “Found” poem as an inspiration for their own written poem.

            The results were wonderful, but as you will see when I show examples of student work, it would be very easy for a teacher (or administrator, or parent...) to simply “miss” the incredible achievements and "write off" many students' work, because activities like this do not always look like traditional learning. And by traditional learning, I mean quantified literacy instruction broken down into skills based writing. In this sense, I hope my class never looks like traditional learning.

            Anyway, I know this post is not very thorough or well developed, but this whole story is just going to be much easier to tell in person as I show you some student work to emphasize my point. The most powerful example comes from one student in particular, who essentially "failed" at creating a successful Found Poem (it made little to no sense and was basically just a collage of random words), but then used one line from his Found Poem to create a masterful Response poem. I was so proud of his work that I walked down and shared it with two other teachers in the hall to show how important this kind of work is. And unfortunately, I am sure that a lot of teachers would have viewed his work as a failure because his Found Poem could be perceived as such. But his final work was amazing, as he took the line "Celebrating Summer" from his Found Poem and wrote a beautiful and reflective piece. His poem reads (note, he used a more unique format structure for the poem that I will show you in person because it is hard to duplicate on the computer...):

"Celebrating Summer
Flashed me back
To a time when mom and dad
were still together
with pretty pink butterflies
on one windowed walls
and a big old bed
worthy of my dreams
offered to rest my weak body
and soothe my
sorrowful heart."

Line in the Sand

            In the first chapter of Ayers’ Book, “To Teach,” one quotation struck me as a painful yet inescapable truth. He writes, “Even as society occasionally posits a romanticized view of the dedicated, caring, inspiring teacher–brilliant, creative, self-sacrificing–we know that the harsh reality in many schools is a structure that disempowers and de-skills, a system that prespecifies each teacher’s thoughts and oversees and constrains our activities” (31). Throughout my intern and student teaching hours in the classroom–spread across 5 separate schools in 3 districts–I feel I have been a first hand witness and active participant in this disempowered school structure. In fact, as I have been studying the art and profession of “teaching” over the last 2 years, I have been unable to avoid the aggressive conclusion that teaching is no longer considered either an “art” or a “profession.” The question then becomes: was it ever? And beyond that, where did our “romanticized” ideas of teaching even begin? And how do we continue to ignore the fact that teachers are among the most manipulated bodies of workers in our nation?

            In our current system–as we have discussed thoroughly–the unique abilities of each individual teacher is diminished into the same type of “learning list” that Ayers speaks about in chapter 2. Unfortunately for teachers though, administrations too often enact scripted curriculums with the aim of safe guarding their classrooms against the typically perceived “deficiencies” of their teaching force (i.e. deficiencies in classroom management, test scores, and student control…). Instead of creating an open environment geared towards promoting authentic teacher creativity and innovation, we bully our teaching force towards passive conformity. In doing so, the teacher is then put in a position to enact that same kind of “deficiency control” over his or her students, where they do not create open situations for creative learning on the students’ part, instead positioning students in a manner which controls their deficits. As we now exist within the constraints of this current educational environment, what is our most productive form of rebellion? How do we regain some control over the educational outcomes of our students, without positioning our classrooms so strongly against the outside constraints that we lose our jobs or attract isolation? Is there a balance to be struck or must we simply “go for it” in the sense that we ignore the limitations of outside forces and build our classroom curriculums with little concern for what we do not value?

            Throughout the last few semesters, we (myself included) have discussed the idea of “carving out space” within the limitations of the mandated curriculum. In our discussions, we have focused on identifying key areas where we can “work with” the curriculum, and ultimately build space within these confines for “authentic teaching.”  Ayers, I believe, brings up a nice counter argument to this idea in his book. As he deconstructs the countless “myths of teaching,” he includes the myth that “good teachers begin with the curriculum they are given and find clever ways to enhance it” (25). This, in a general sense, is exactly the attitude I have been adopting over the past few semesters. Reading it as a teaching “myth” however, forced me to challenge this perspective, accept that it may be flawed, and in doing so search for some new approaches.  Although I agree that carving our space within a curriculum is not a negative pursuit, positioning the “authentic learning” as something that needs to be “squeezed into” the curriculum can have damaging effects. I believe, as Ayers would likely agree, that we need to flip the script on this perspective and begin to question/challenge every element of ANY curriculum (whether it is "given" to us or "created" by us). As Ayers admits in chapter 5, "When I realized that no curriculum unit was ever good enough (even though many materials and resources are terrific and worth drawing upon)and that I needed to focus on curriculum as a living challenge rather than as a better package, I began to evolve a framework for deliberating about curriculum in my own classrooms. I wanted to be proactive in thinking about curriculum, not always reacting to guidelines or requirements or units coming at me from the outside" (103-104). This new framework, of course, comes with extreme challenges and risks, but we must refuse to accept the idea that the areas of teaching that we truly value should somehow be limited by curriculum constraints, OR the limitation of our own curriculum ideas/goals. With this attitude we can begin to view the outside curriculum constraints themselves as the areas of the curriculum that must be “squeezed in,” while retaining the reflective perspective that our own ideas must be constantly evolving and must face relentless personal scrutiny. It is through this shift that our curriculum can take on a living form–always changing shape.

            Ultimately, each teacher has to figure out what works best in his or her own classroom. This is an extremely heavy task. I have been struggling this entire semester with many of these questions, as I have had to face the realistic fear that when I enter a difficult educational environment as a teacher my idealistic and theoretical philosophies may stand firmly in opposition with many outside forces. How then can I succeed? William Ayers poses the important question, “when we teachers look out over our classrooms, what do we see? [sic] We see students in our classrooms, of course, but who are they? What hopes do they bring? What is the language of their dreams” (41). I fully agree that these are important questions for teachers to ask themselves about their students, but I think we need to ask these same questions about ourselves as teachers. When we look at ourselves operating within the classroom, what do we see?  Who do we see? What are our hopes? What are our dreams? Where do we draw that figurative line-in-the sand? And more importantly–on which side of it do we stand?