"I ain't even white." |
I had been working on this poem for months... trying to figure out how to casually, but purposefully slip all of the slang I learned this year into one solid, fluid masterpiece. I performed this poem at our last Throwdown Thursday with our students at Love Park. It was. so. fun. Check out the poem (and the words below) for a lesson in a second language. What I learned my first year teaching.
I learned a new language this year. Not taught. Learned. I mean, I ain’t tryna flex, but let’s keep it real 100. White girl’s got bars in case you ever wondered. Amirite? There’s no need to throw shade, I got my squad I trust and they watching me slay. F’real, f’real. I first learned that my husband’s a bae, And that a thot and thought just aren’t quite the same. And check it, Tuesdays… Clubs go up. And when Wednesday rolls around, ya’ll still turn up. Bet. Now when you ask about the jawn with the jawn, I know exactly what you mean without getting it wrong. And I know ya’ll say, “Mrs. Tellis be drawin!” But I’d rather have you drawin instead of actually drawin. Cause on some real - ya’ll can be on fleek, But I’d rather ya’ll hear me then hear Kendrick or Meek. Because when I say I can't even with ya’ll, it just means I can’t imagine my life without ya’ll. And when I say, “Girl, bye,” It doesn’t mean girl, bye. Because if it did, ya’ll know Mrs. Tellis gon cry. See what I learned my first year teaching Is that my life is more complete, although a lot less easy. And my students may be trippin’ at times, but without them I wouldn’t have this job of mine. Real rap. I have nothing but love for ya’ll, Now do I have the best job in the world, or naw? #teachingadventures #iaintevenwhite
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So, Miranda in high school was obnoxious. I spoke a lot and rarely listened. I was extremely opinionated about topics I certainly didn't understand well. To anyone with whom I argued in high school, I sincerely apologize.
Now, college me was very unsure of myself. Attending a Christian college was more difficult than attending a public high school because your opinions were a reflection of your religious beliefs and therefore your salvation and therefore you better not be wrong or you're going to hell. Not really. But it felt that way sometimes. It wasn't always a safe space to genuinely question your thoughts or ideas. Teacher Miranda has learned to keep her dang mouth shut. I am still an extremely opinionated Miranda, but one that is more careful with her words... chalk it up to maturity I guess, but I have figured out that there's too much I don't know to talk like I do know. I've found myself reading articles, doing research, and discussing with my black coworkers about what my role as a white woman should be in a racially tumultuous America. There is a slew of vocabulary terms that I had not truly encountered until I worked in Southwest. Many times, I wrote things down or stopped conversations to ask, "What are you even saying?" And I'm not even talking about all the slang I learned this year. As the representation of white women to my students, I knew I had to learn about the racial and economic divides that would normally separate someone that looks like me from people that look like them. Thanks to my coworkers and my teaching experience, I've been developing a repetoire of words that aids in the conversation about race in America. May I present the first installment of my own urban dictionary: White supremacy: The belief that the white race is superior to all others and should dominate society. To try and reason or logically rationalize this concept gives the belief too much credit. It is not logical. It is not reasonable. It shouldn't be given the time of day. Racial reconciliation: The restoration of an amicable relationship between all peoples. The state of our nation is abysmal due to white supremacy. If you're going to pretend that slavery has not ruined the opportunity for amicability between blacks and whites in America, then we need to have a separate discussion. The legacy of slavery is real (and a black president doesn't negate it). Racial reconciliation will always be open for business because some form of racism will always exist. It is your individual responsibility to reconcile your own personal prejudices with other races. I feel it is my personal responsibility to help people have a discussion about it as I work through it myself. Cultural appropriation: This was a new one for me. Appropriation is using elements of another culture for your own petty purposes: aesthetics, fitting in, to be trendy. And when I say using I mean using without the intention of understanding. Iggy Azalea is the perfect example. Just google her and cultural appropriation for a hot second... I've read about her for days. There's a fine line between appropriation and appreciation, which is why I try to learn first and participate later. Understanding is the first step toward reconciliation. Gentrification: When a more economically stable population moves into an impoverished neighborhood, normally accompanied by more expensive businesses. I don't have too much experience with this yet to talk about my thoughts, but I do know that it's a problem. It's like the opposite of white flight. Instead, let's just go in and buy this stuff out, and eventually the property value will be too high for the original inhabitants to afford. In most circumstances, that's divided along racial lines: whites move in, blacks move out. Speaking of black and white... Black: You're allowed to say black. My students are black. It's not offensive. White: Don't you dare call me Caucasian. Ugh. I'm a white girl. Call it like you see it. Nigga: A word normally used by black people as a term of endearment. There is still argument among the black community as to whether or not this is acceptable, but in my own opinion (and the opinion of many of my black colleagues), it is not okay. Check out my other post for further discussion on the "N" word. Oh, and the use of this word by other races as a term of endearment is cultural appropriation. So don't do it. Nigger: A racist and extremely offensive term used by other races toward the black community, rooted in our nation's despicable history of slavery. I shouldn't even have to discuss this, but just to make it clear... this word is unacceptable. I never want to stop having these discussions. They're vital to the progress of our nation and of ourselves. Never stop learning.
Last week was a complete whirlwind.
On June 18, 2015, fifty-seven students walked across a stage to receive their high school diplomas. To be a small part of that moment was my biggest life accomplishment to date. It was like 57 of my babies each being acknowledged for every time they ever turned in a worksheet, answered a question, or just plain showed up on time. I have actually never been prouder of anything in my whole life. Rewind to the 15 minutes before graduation began. I am in a room with all 57 of these young people in their caps and gowns... lining them up in alphabetical order. I called out each individual name, and as I did, I got to reflect on the relationship I had developed with them over the past 9 months. I started with my A's, made my way through the LMNO's, and eventually ended up in the W's before I completely lost it. One of my students stopped me and hugged me as I called his name, thanking me for everything I had done, blah, blah, blah... being too sappy for me to ever repeat without crying. And I had to walk away. Because I realized that any time they think back to their high school career, they'll think of me. Good, bad, indifferent... I'm somewhere in that memory, on the prom dance floor, making piñatas, posing in their graduation pictures, doesn't matter. I was a part of it. I got the opportunity to present Senior Awards at graduation with a colleague of mine. Both of us survived as first year teachers, and as our principal introduced us to the graduation stage, our students clapped and cheered and called our names. And for one second, I allowed myself to stop and cherish every feeling I was feeling. So often as a "teacher" I tried to emotionally remove myself while I was in front of students because those emotions... they get to you. But in this moment, I looked at all of the faces that I spent hours and hours and so. many. hours trying to teach, tutor, and mentor... and the love I had for them finally felt reciprocated. In the final moments that they were my students, sitting in those chairs waiting for their diplomas, they expressed their love for me, too. I'll treasure that moment forever. I also re-remembered how white I am. In a room of I'd estimate 400 people, I was directing my students in their class song (Moment 4 Life by Nicki Minaj), standing on a chair in the back row, rapping my little, white heart out. What is my life even? But in the chaos after graduation, with students and families everywhere, there were a few parents that came and thanked me for everything I had done for their child. Students would go home and talk about me; family members had heard about things we did in class, about their crazy little Spanish teacher who helped them graduate. Dang, your impact as a teacher is deeper than I ever anticipated. It is a terrifying responsibility now that I reflect on it more deeply. But there was a divine fearlessness that accompanied this year. This first year will always be so dear to my heart... my first group of "former" students. Take a look at some of our favorite graduation moments on our Instagram account below: @phillyeducationcenter
Yesterday was not my day.
If I'm keepin' it real 100, I had cramps that were outta pocket and a full classroom of students needing help with senior projects all while being a chaperone on a school trip downtown. We went to Chinatown and the Reading Terminal Market. (How fun right?! Wrong.) During said school trip, a student dropped my phone and shattered the screen. Mrs. Tellis literally ran away in order to not scream in said student's face. I didn't yell or cry or smack somebody, although my other students kindly offered to do that for me (I declined). So much of the past 2 weeks has been me staying at school until the security guard shuts the lights off on me making sure these students get their diplomas. That's honestly all I care about. I spent so much time planning, emailing, crying, and grading... giving up my lunches, never spending a second by myself. I don't even say that to make me sound selfless. I say that to say the exact opposite. I was so miserable and didn't want to be around any humans at all. As of yesterday, as soon as my phone hit the sidewalk, I was over it. I was acting like a child. Or at least I thought I was. In my head, I was screaming profanities, throwing a tantrum because I literally felt like I had given everything I had to these students... now I've also given my phone. Get. Me. Out. But you know what's funny? My worst can totally be their best. After my phone broke, many students didn't even know it happened. When they asked me about it later, they wanted to know how I didn't smack her. I kind of laughed, but we had such a good conversation about being Elsa... just letting things go. Stuff happens. And if we're being honest, sh** happens. And it sucks, but most of the time, there's nothing you can do about it. All you have left is who you are, and who I am is a strong, confident young woman who isn't going to let a bad week make me think I have a bad life. (Shout out to my co-workers for reminding me of this every single day). Later that afternoon, immediately after venting to my patient, patient principal about the crap that was my life, a student stopped me. He said, "Mrs. Tellis, today was the best day. You guys are doing such a good job." Welp. Isn't that life? I had to laugh. I graciously thanked him because I realized that literally... this experience has NOTHING to do with me. Nothing. I could be at my worst. My hair could be dirty (it definitely is today), I could break 1,000 phones, I could wear mismatched shoes and cry 17 times in a day, and it still wouldn't change the fact that these students are who matter most. I'm not here for me, although they teach me a lot. I'm here to be a bridge. I'm a teeny (tiny) part of a bridge between the students and their future. I'll get stepped on and cracked and broken and rained on and eroded, but I'll be there. My purpose is to be there, in whatever state I am. Here I am. I'm a mess. But my worst can be their best. This is still a topic I don't understand. But it's in my life, and it's time to start a conversation about it.
The one truth to which I will hold is that no one should use it. Ever. Black, white, purple, or freaking polka-dotted, no one should use it. Now that I've established my vehement aversion to the word, I want to discuss it in the context of my students. Many, not all, but many of my students use "nigga" on a regular basis. It is indeed aimed as a term of endearment. I have asked hundreds of times why they call each other that, and I always get the same answer... "because that's who he/she is!" What they really mean is: That's my boy/that's my girl. We tight. He's tough. She's the shit. Literally, that's what they mean. The general consensus from my students who use it is that they're black and they can use it all they want. They've really never thought too deeply about it because it is simply the vernacular they know. Our goal as teachers/staff is to make them reconsider their language, where this word came from, and why they are more valuable than a "nigga." I'm not sure why some of my students accept nigga as a compliment. All I know is that no one calls each other nigga when they get a good grade or take their SATs. It's more likely to be used when someone wins a fight or acts like a badass. It's more about what's valued as a culture than the word itself. I also know that I don't allow it in my classroom. No one in my classroom is a nigga. The history of the word nigger is pretty clear. Beginning from the Latin word niger, to the French word negre, to the Spanish/Portuguese word negro... it was a word meaning black. Slavery in America in the 1800's changed that word to nigger, which is the current, extremely derogatory term for any black person. The word as used today is rooted in the pain and suffering of an entire people, and each time it is used, it is likening the targeted human to a slave. I can't even pretend to understand the weight of this word. It is not my fight. It is not my suffering. But unfortunately I hear it about 20+ times a day. And this past Thursday, I heard it one too many times. We took our students on a field trip on Thursday to Center City. It was my favorite day. We decided to show them Rittenhouse Square, a park in one of the most (if not the most) affluent neighborhoods in Philadelphia. Many of them had never been there, and it was a great pit stop before we went to LOVE Park for our open mic event where students could rap, sing, or perform poetry. Upon leaving Rittenhouse Square, two of my female students and our female art teacher were crossing the street. A man was driving his car with his blinker on, so the three ladies decided it was safe to cross. The man ended up driving straight, despite his blinker, almost hitting the three ladies in the process. This middle-aged, white man driving a Mercedes continued driving and yelled, "Get out of the street, niggers!" Yep. That happened. We take our students to the richest neighborhood in their own city to show them how beautiful it can be... and of course it's the ugliest display of humanity. Nothing could be done after it happened. No one's world stopped. No one cried. I know it's naive of me, but I was surprised. I really didn't think something like that would still be said, especially to 17 year old girls. It made me angry, and I can't even comprehend it's depth. But the experience did give me a better understanding about why I don't want my students to call each other that. They'll tell me there's a difference between "nigger" and "nigga", but not really. Not when you're called a "nigger" for crossing the street wrong and a "nigga" for carrying a stack of cash in your pocket from whatever side job you have. Neither is what I want for them, and I refuse to allow them to speak it over each others' lives. I really have no resolution to this story. I have no band-aid for the wound. I have no revolutionary thoughts that are any different from anyone else who has ever tried to talk about it. I really don't understand the breadth and intensity of this word's effects. But this word matters. It's not an old term. It's not dead. It also shouldn't be a cultural norm we accept. It's a word that attacks identities... and it's not going away. So, no use ignoring it. |
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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