"I ain't even white." |
Inspired by Ms. Schwartz's 3rd grade class honesty, I decided to take on the adventure of the "I wish my teacher knew..." project in my high school classes. I made it a mandatory assignment for just one day. The assignment read as follows: Students took a moment at the beginning of class to write on a piece of paper whatever they had to say. Some students included their names, some did not. But they slipped their thoughts in a box that will sit permanently in my classroom. The box will be available to students at all times. They will be given the opportunity each day to write down whatever it is I may need to know. Some days students don't have much to say, but let me tell you...some days they do. Some of the thoughts were sweet, some were deep, and some didn't mean much of anything. But I made sure they knew that the whole purpose of the assignment wasn't to be "in their business," but to learn more about the students that I'm teaching. I don't need to know who wrote it to know that I should care about whatever is on that piece of paper. I thought there might be students who refused... but they all wrote. I was impressed by their courage to write with such honesty. I am excited by the idea of having this as a concrete part of our classroom environment. I think that the option of expression with anonymity helps create the "safe space" we want for our students. There is a story behind each one of these students and their very loaded statements, but for now, I think I just want to leave these images here to be sifted through. Keep in mind that these young people are ages 16-23 years old. The spelling/grammar/writing ability is what it is. No more, no less. If you would like to judge the intellectual ability of my students based off of the following images, you may feel free to do so. Keep in mind however that they have expressed a personal thought and emotion today, which is a life skill they are slowly, but surely acquiring in my classroom, and I would much rather they learn how to be emotionally accessible in order to develop thriving and healthy relationships before they learn how to spell the word relationship. I hope this dialogue between teacher and student begins to open up communication and vulnerability in a very guarded culture. And for your daily comic relief, here is a video of two of my lovely ladies staying after school today to catch up on some work when "Bleeding Love" came on. Apparently it's her jam. Then she realized I was recording. Enjoy 💙
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It's day 6 without internet in the building. How impossible is this life of teaching an online curriculum without internet?!! HOWEVER... I am trying to use the opportunity to have productive and enlightening conversation. So my task for today was as follows:
List one/two stereotypes you have thought about the following cultures/ethnicities: A. White B. Black C. Asian D. Mexican E. Indian (not Native American) After having to define what the word stereotype means (many of my students struggle with literacy reading anywhere between a first and sixth grade reading level), we got into some serious assumptions. I allowed myself to answer honestly as well. Nothing like confronting your own prejudices to make you reconsider your entire self. Here's what my students had to say. Direct quotes. No coercion. In their own words: Indians are... colorful, serious, always cutting their hair, quiet, pretty hair that is used for weaves Mexicans are... hard workers, good hair, smell bad, eat tacos, talk trash in their little language Asians are... smart, talk trash behind the glass (of a Chinese restaurant), all look alike, short, have small feet Blacks are... rude, dangerous, loud, violent, make you feel uncomfortable, always doing crime against other black people White people are... crazy, silly, racist, always looking, judge, can't dance, can't jump, always acting scared My follow-up question was about a time when one of their stereotypes was wrong. Many students didn't feel like any of their stereotypes have ever been inaccurate. A lot of them also couldn't name a time when they have interacted with a Mexican or an Indian. It was tough enough to try and convince them that there might be one Mexican out of millions that maybe doesn't like tacos that much... I didn't even begin to tackle why they shouldn't assume all white people are racist. What was even more interesting was about how they classified themselves. I don't think a single person wrote something positive about their own race/culture. It made me sad. But we had some real conversation about why stereotypes exist... how they can frequently stem from some form of the truth, then get twisted into a generalization that people often find offensive. For example, we discussed how growing up I thought 2 things: black people live in Philadelphia, and Philadelphia is dangerous. Although I never truly made the connection that "black people are dangerous," that was essentially where my brain was. They know I don't think that anymore, and they appreciated my honesty. My students made comments about how stereotypes like this need to stop and just aren't true. But when I polled the room as to how frequently they hear gun shots in their neighborhoods and the general consensus was 2-3 times a month, they started to consider why someone might think Philadelphia is a very dangerous place. Stereotypes begin with a twisted version of the truth. But they end when we start talking, learning, figuring out the other people in the world. No internet is frustrating. But I'm glad learning has been around longer than the internet ♡ On Friday night, I had the honor of opening the 14th Annual Candle Lighting Ceremony in Philadelphia to kick off National Crime Victims' Rights Week. Each year the service is held by the Philadelphia Coalition for Victim Advocacy for the purpose of providing victims with a voice to express their pain and experiences so they do not feel so alone.
The service was emotional and somewhat exhausting as we heard the realities told by the brave overcomers of violence in Philadelphia. From child abuse to gun violence to rape and murder, it was a challenging evening, but one that provides closure and a sense of community for those remembering loved ones. I could barely make it through my spoken word piece without losing it entirely...And my voice cannot be understood through sobs. I kept it together long enough to finish my piece and quickly scurried from the podium, immediately collapsing into my pew to cry out of sight. The experience was so humbling. I wrote this spoken word specifically for this event, trying to be as respectful as possible because the audience I prepared it for was so vulnerable and hurting. I cannot even begin to relate to their struggles and tragedy...so I had a difficult time writing a piece that reflects their pain. I decided to not relate at all, and I wrote a very honest poem about how I have no idea what it is like to confront violent crime. So today was awesome.
Our non-profit is mainly funded by the School District of Philadelphia, and today was their scheduled visit. Like when you have your lesson plans edited and printed, your standards are written on the board, and you get really nervous when 4 people in suits walk in the room with clip boards. They want to observe you. (JUDGE YOU). But really, I understand, they want to make sure we're doing our jobs well. I was so ready. My lesson plans were on my desk...you could see my desk. I had worksheets. I had my do-now activities on the board. I had my objective. I was TEACHER. Get to school. No internet. Now. In a school where the MAJORITY of the curriculum/work is to be done online, you would think that would be a problem. NOT TODAY, SAID I. I decided NOT to use the internet in my lesson because then none of my students could "accidentally" go on Youtube to watch Chief Keef (urban reference I learned from the #streets, and for the record I do not condone the random Youtube searching of this artist) while a school district employee was in my room. Today was all about student-teacher interaction. My Spanish students were going to LEARN today!! But OOPS...I forgot about my Senior Project class. I am honored and humbled to announce that I have been asked to present a spoken word at a candle lighting service this Friday in honor of victims of violent crime in Philadelphia. April 19-25 is National Crime Victims' Rights Week as honored by the Office of Justice in order to raise awareness and support for those that have suffered at the hand of violence.
Although I have not had much experience with violent crime, and I hope it stays that way, losing one of my students to gun violence this year has truly opened my eyes to the struggling world around me. I am not sure how qualified or equipped I am to speak on such a topic, but I hope to be a small part of a service that brings hope and closure to those experiencing pain and loss due to violence. If anyone is interested in supporting this event in the Philadelphia area, the information is below. Continue to think of and pray for victims and families that struggle with such unnecessary pain. Candle Lighting Service for National Crime Victims' Rights Week First Unitarian Church of Philadelphia 2125 Chestnut Street 6 pm Friday April 17th I think one of the questions I get asked most frequently is, "Do you ever feel unsafe at work?"
I understand the sentiment and the concern with this question, and I genuinely appreciate it. However, I believe the root of this question comes from a grave misunderstanding. One that I didn't even know existed, so how could I know I was a culprit of it? I grew up approximately 90 minutes outside of Philadelphia...my. entire. life. And MAYBE I visited that city 5 times... besides like for sporting events, which does not count. And those 5 times were either for a school field trip to Independence Hall or my family took me to the Franklin Institute (yay giant heart thing!). The area in which I spent my childhood was quite frankly what would be considered the forest. I describe my "block" to my students as a road where I could see one other house from my house. Everyone else was hidden in the woods. They don't believe me. My vast knowledge and understanding of Philadelphia (and therefore cities and urban environments in general) was that of what I gathered on the news. And we all know the news is a great, non-biased, positive, and uplifting source of information, right? Right? Since September 29, 2014 I have embarked on my greatest journey to date. In Southwest Philadelphia (neither born nor raised), I took a position as a Spanish Instructor at a non-profit high school diploma program with Communities in Schools of Philadelphia. I have never appreciated a culture, a people, or a city so much.
I am not qualified to have the position I have. I am not certified to teach in the state of Pennsylvania. I have a Bachelor's Degree in the Spanish language, but I am in no way trained to deal with the urban education system. I can't even write an adequate lesson plan. But PRAISE that this opportunity was presented to me via SEPTA trolley 36 with a big, shiny bow and flashing neon lights saying, "THIS IS CRAZY, BUT AWESOME." I have stories. Goodness do I have stories. And I can't wait to share them all. But first I want to explain that this has nothing to do with me. I don't deserve this job. Correction, I didn't deserve this job. I truly believe that I have earned it now, and not "earned" it like I have impressed my superiors. I have earned respect from my students: a group of 16-23 year-olds who may or may not have ever had a relationship with a white woman in their lives. |
AuthorA young woman trying to figure out why she matters and where she belongs in a struggling, urban culture. CategoriesArchives
November 2016
All stories, opinions, and suggestions are written strictly by the author of this blog, and do not reflect the opinions or stance of Communities in Schools of Philadelphia.
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