On "The Class (Entre les Murs)"

So - you've got this white teacher, right? And he's teaching at an urban school with a diverse population of students. A lot of these students come from poverty and rough backgrounds, a number of them immigrants. He's teaching Language Arts, so they end up doing a self-portrait about themselves. Things are learned.

We've most definitely heard this story before, right? We've seen this movie - "Freedom Writers," "Dangerous Minds" (they're always Language Arts teachers, no?). White savior comes in and - in their first year of teaching - they "save" all these kids of color who aren't capable of saving themselves. We've seen it.

But what we have not seen is "The Class." It's set up so much like these other films, but it's so very different. The first "why"? Probably because it's not an American film. It's French. When Mr. Marin (the teacher in the film) teaches Language Arts, it's called "French." And when François Bégaudeau (the actor and writer and once-teacher) wrote this screenplay, he had no intention of following the b.s. American formula - and in so doing he created something so incredibly original simply because it was real.

This is not a movie for good-feelings. It won't uplift you in the end. There are no answered questions or pat morality tales. The movie ends as murky and frustrating and awkward as it begins - and that is its brilliance. Because - in that - it perfectly mirrors the actual teaching profession.

The movie starts on the first day of school with Mr. Marin (in his fourth year of teaching) and ends on the last day. There is not a single scene played out outside the walls of the school (hence the French name, "Entre les Murs," which means, "Between the Walls"). It's semi-documentary style let's us see exactly what the students and teachers see: a class full of kids from a variety of backgrounds, sometimes learning, often challenging. We get hints of what's going on in their lives, but we do not have the luxury of trite peeks into their home-lives, we are left only with hints - just as in real life.

And the teacher? We see him in staff meetings, as the teachers bicker with each other over how to "punish" the kids effectively. We watch one teacher melt down in frustration in the staff break room. We see Mr. Marin leave late at night, fatigued and worn-down. And then we see the next day of class. Even for Mr. Marin, there is no home-life, no romantic interest down the hall. Nothing to show us his outside world that the students wouldn't know about.

And that's the beauty. It perfectly captures the classroom experience. This strange world where people who don't know each other outside of a very artificial setting share their lives with looks, and shouts, and closing down. People who would never connect in the outside world, who don't understand each other's cultures or perspectives. Sometimes, beautiful things happen. Sometimes, tragedy. Both sides learn from each other (arguably, more so the teacher from the students in these types of situations than the other way around). Nobody leaves fully satisfied.

Mr. Marin screws up. A lot. But he also has strong moments. He cares, but he doesn't understand (even four years in - just like most teachers). He stereotypes his students. He picks on some of them (perhaps unknowingly - perhaps not). He tries his damnedest to do his job under ridiculous circumstances. And the kids? The same. They try. They question. They don't understand, either.

Finally, a film about teaching that doesn't try to glorify. That brings up all the questions and gives no answers. There is no "saving" kids. Teachers come from a different world and judge without understanding - and it frustrates everybody involved. There is so much opposition (from the top on down), that it's amazing that anything positive happens. It only makes sense that a movie like this could only have been written by - and acted by - a former teacher. And I don't know the background behind the actors that play the students - but they are absolutely brilliant. It seemed so real, even though I knew it wasn't a documentary, I often questioned that fact.

This movie is painful on a lot of levels. It brings up issues of class, and race, and sexism without carefully tying off any loose ends. It's raw. And that rawness is what makes it so worth seeing. You want to get a real glimpse into the world of public-school teaching in America? Watch this French film.

And that's the only problem with the movie. That people who do not know any better will watch this and take it as just that: a French film. Allowing the fact of its origin to keep them from understanding its absolute truth to an American education system. I can already imagine all those Freedom-Fry lovin' patriots dismissing the veracity of this film because - Americans wouldn't do that. Trying to think that the system and mentality is different (when it is - at least from what I saw in this film - exactly the same).

And then they'll go back to watching "Dangerous Minds" and think about teaching Language Arts.

When they should be taking this lesson - think twice about teaching. You're probably not going to be good at it. Because, in this system, so few people are.*

* I'll be following up on that statement in a post about "the Myth of Good Teaching" soon.

Why Civil Rights?

Yesterday, we had a "Civil Rights" assembly at school. The whole school, in a circle, sharing short research papers about various civil rights leaders.

And the kids were antsy. They were bored. They complained. They didn't want to read. They hated the research. They didn't listen to anything.

And it killed me. While my co-worker tried to lead a short discussion on the "importance of Civil Rights," nobody had anything to say. They didn't care. They chatted amongst each other, cracking jokes. One kid answered her phone in the middle of it.

And I just watched it all. Tried to quiet kids. But it slowly suffocated my soul. Kids that are so directly affected by the fight for rights by race, or class, or gender in this country - so completely bored and disconnected from the topic.

And so I finally had to say something. Right when our principal was about to just cut the whole thing off to minimize the damage already done, I spoke out. I told them, flat out, "My mom had bricks thrown through her windows when she was your age because of her race. People thought she was Japanese, so they threw bricks through her windows at home. That didn't happen to me as a kid, because some people stood up. But I am still dealing with other racist actions, so now it is up to me to stand up, for my kids' sakes."

And, suddenly, the kids were with me. I went on - for a bit - about the present-tense of Civil Rights and how all the injustice and unfair things they suffer right now is only going to be improved by folks who stand up. Not just three or four token "Civil Rights Leaders," but en masse. And a discussion started. The kids engaged.

Now, I'm not going to say everything was "saved" and everybody learned a valuable lesson. But the whole mood shifted, and I could see the kids starting to see something. So much left unsaid. But it was a beginning. And I'm itching to continue it.

And so, tonight, I had to just sit down and write. I intend to share this with the kids tomorrow. It's not polished. I didn't edit it. No clever rhyme-schemes like I usually employ. But, sometimes, raw feels just fine.* So, some words by CVT:

The kids rolled their eyes and complained - 'Why Civil Rights?'
And I was shocked into silence
'Why do we have to learn about Civil Rights?'
Like it was a single set of facts that had to be painfully memorized
'Why Civil Rights?'

I almost cried with frustration
But - instead - I chose to REPLY:

"Why do we have to learn about Civil Rights?
Might as well ask why we have to learn how to breathe
Because without rights - like air - you'd live a short life on your knees
Wheezing, gasping, choking - letting your 'superiors' keep you there
Accepting injustice because 'that's just how it is.'

Why Civil Rights?
Because my mom had rocks thrown at her due to the slant of her eyes.
Why Civil Rights?
Because our grandparents were alive when mobs lynching black people 'just happened.'
Why Civil Rights?
Because without unions, poor trade workers were poisoned on the job.
Why Civil Rights?
Because our great-grandmothers - of any race - couldn't choose their president.

But that's past, right?
All those problems have been 'fixed' now
By those four Civil Rights leaders you've heard of - who happen to be dead
So stop living in the past

And so I will, and I do, and so I will tell you:
Why Civil Rights?
Because an unarmed black man, lying on the ground, submitting to arrest, was shot in the back by a police officer days before Obama's inauguration.
Why?
Because this country - built by colonizers and immigrants - patrols its borders with guns to keep Mexican immigrants from crossing 'illegally.'
Why?
Because being poor means you can't afford to sue your employer when you're fired for being too sick to work - from the cough the factory smoke put in your lungs.
Why?
Because we can call a U.S. citizen an 'enemy combatant' and lock them away without trial.
Why?
Because we can let the education system heap advantages on the already-rich
Letting a budget-crisis close schools in the less-wealthy part of town
While spending a trillion dollars on defense each year.
Why?
Because 25% of the homeless in this country are the same veterans that we 'support' - while they're abroad.
Why?
Because - in most states - you are not human enough to love and marry if you're not straight.

Why Civil Rights?
Because you have been marked
By your race, or gender, or religion

You have been marked
By your poverty, or sexuality, or disability

You have been marked
For unjust treatment throughout your life
For powerlessness at the hands of those deemed 'more capable'
For fear, and frustration, and anger when what you were born to limits your opportunities

You have been marked
For all of these things - and more
Until you understand that Civil Rights is not dead, perfect leaders from the past
That Civil Rights is not a few random dates and facts
It did not happen
It is happening
Always occurring
Ever-evolving
Sometimes progressing

But only for and by those who hear the question: 'Why Civil Rights?'

And respond -
Because they're mine."

*Mental note, this isn't "poetry," but meant to be performed, spoken-word and all that . . .

You're Not the Only One

I don't know what's up with my new kick on getting "unusual phenomenon" images to tie to my posts, but that's how it is. Anyway.

"You're not the only one."

Those can be words of support and comfort during dark times. They can be the beginning of a threat or hint at hidden knowledge. They can also be chastisement, on par with "get over yourself."

I'm going to start with the latter.

So I teach at a middle school, right? And part of that is the discipline process. There are various ways that goes down in my school, but, invariably, I have kids who are convinced that they are the only ones who get in trouble for certain things, and they make sure I (and the other staff members) know that.

There are a few reasons they believe that. The first is that they come out of a public school system where that might have been true, to a certain degree. I work with the kids that got kicked out of public schools (or were on their way) and, unfortunately, quite often those are the kids that get nailed with the "bad kid" label. And, in public school, once you have that label, good luck in convincing people that what you just did was "just a joke" or anything like that. Of course, it's not like the kids didn't honestly bring down a lot of those consequences upon themselves, but - as I often try to explain to them - a reputation tends to create expectations, positive or negative, and we often pay repeatedly (and sometimes unfairly) for our negative reputations.

Another things is the parents. Oh my. How often have I talked to a parent who battles me about "what happened to the other kid(s)" or how "he/she is just a kid, it's ridiculous for them to get in trouble for (whatever they did)." That's when I dust off my explanation (the same one I give the kids): I teach a full CLASS of students. Not just one at a time. Therefore, there come times when I must choose - one kid who's struggling, behaviorally, or the rest of the class? It's an easy choice. The funny thing is, the students understand that, generally. So many times they accept the consequences and are fine with it (because they know me well enough to understand why it happened) only to have the parent battle it.

Again - the parents aren't always unjustified in their defense of their children. Because they are used to school systems, teachers, and administrations that are culturally clueless (I'm not just talking about race here, but class, as well). They're used to their kids being judged from on high by folks that don't know how to interact with kids that aren't middle-class (or white, or both) and so unfair consequences do come down.

And, finally, the biggest reason the kids are convinced of their "only one who gets in trouble" status is that they are middle school kids - they're totally self-absorbed. Therefore, they aren't going to notice what happens with anybody else, unless they think it's evidence of their own self-centered individuality (in terms of treatment). The kids aren't going to make a mental note of when other kids get in trouble for the same things they do (often, they don't know about it, either) because it's not about them. So they are convinced that they are the only ones experiencing negative consequences.

But, for good and ill - they aren't the only ones. The kids aren't the only students in my classes. They're not the only ones to get in trouble. They're not the only ones to succeed, either. And it's helping kids find that understanding - the broadening from "me, me, and me" to an awareness and understanding and empathy for other people that is probably the major responsibility of teaching middle school kids.

Problem being - even though, developmentally-speaking, kids should learn and "grow out of it," it doesn't seem to be just a middle-school phenomenon. Because adults don't get this one very often, either, especially when dealing with race.

Here's an example:

I was talking with my co-worker and good friend (we'll call her "W.") the other day. And, during this conversation, we came back to the fact that I'm the first real friend she's had outside of her own race (she happens to be black).* She was talking about how - before knowing me - she never would have believed that a mixed Asian/white person could understand race and racism. When she mentioned that to Professor Griff (yeah - my friends chat about race with folks like Professor Griff, and I'll name-drop it), he told her that OF COURSE that's how it is. He pointed it out as an indication that racism is alive and strong, that folks who should have such disparate experiences of race can understand it at the same, base level.

She told me how some of her other friends (who also don't know me) don't get it, though - thinking that we must be hooking up or something (it's not like that), not believing that she can have these real conversations with a "white boy" (only time I've ever been referenced as that, for sure) like me. When she has tried to explain that they'd get along with me, as well, they don't buy it.

And this is not the exception. I think this situation is the general rule of race here in the States. We all do such a good job of being absorbed by ourselves and our own experiences of race that we don't see what's happening to other races. We don't see that we walk the same path, on a general level. White folks can't see their own privilege, only seeing themselves, and so they don't see that racism is so damn prevalent. Black folks get caught up in their own fight and struggle, only to ignore the parallel struggles around them, often discounting other experiences of race. Asians examine Asian life, Arab think Arab, etc.

All the while, we're all digging deeper down into the morass of race and racism (not to mention other forms of oppression by gender, sexuality, religion), thinking we're the only ones who are struggling. The only ones fighting. The only ones dealing with it or knowledgeable enough to DO something.

But we're not. Not one of us is alone in this. We are not the only ones. There are millions of folks (literally) fighting against the same things. And they may not look like us, but they can understand where we are coming from, if we let them. If we can grow up enough out of the middle-school mentality to open our eyes and let them teach us.

But, all have to do is go to Racialicious for a second and read the comments, and it's often this battle of "who is it more acceptable to be racist towards these days?" Or "no - this thing isn't racist towards -blank- it's racist towards -other group." A bunch of smart, knowledgeable, open folks - battling over racial semantics and trying to prove that their lot is the hardest, instead of taking advantage of having all these smart, passionate people in one (digital) place and bringing it together.

I've said it in other ways before, but what if people did just get over themselves and realize that they weren't the only ones? That they can actually learn about race and racism from OTHER races and be stronger for it. That there's so much common ground, it would be easy to champion all the causes at one go. What if?

Let's look at the data: about 300 million people in the U.S. About 221 million white. 37 million black. Much less every other race.

So - if black folks fight alone, they make up a bit over 10% of the population. A decent number, but politically, relatively insignificant. Now, imagine if all the races got over themselves and stepped up? That would be over 25% of the population - much more significant. Now, add in all the white allies and other white minority groups (LGBT, religious minorities) and you'd easily have a third to a half of all the people in the States. And that is politically significant.

But as long as we all stay middle-school about it all? 10% is the best we can hope for.

So keep telling yourselves that you're not the only one. Remember that. And then make it count for something.

*Not calling "W" out here, just celebrating and marking it as a conversation of note.

**Not to mention all the space aliens secretly "passing" as human beings . . .

On Being the Bigger Person

I know how this Giant died. I do. He just gave up. Got tired of walking around, always being the bigger person and dealing with other people's ish, until he just sat down and refused to get up ever again. Because it's so damn fatiguing having to be that much bigger than everybody all the time. If you ask me, that's why the whole race of Giants died out, when being so big should have given them an advantage.*

Most people in this world choose to be ignorant about some things. Conscious decisions - because they can't handle dealing with the reality of it all. We all do it. And, in and of itself, being ignorant isn't a bad thing at all. Certainly, there are now negative connotations attached to the concept of "ignorance," but if we stick to its true, dictionary definition, there's nothing wrong with it. In fact, by definition, all of us absolutely MUST be ignorant about a lot of things. That's just how it is.

However, when people use their conscious ignorance as a weapon, it ceases to be okay. When people fuel their own ignorance - and that of others - to try to bring others down, it's wrong. Especially when the means to ending their own ignorance is available to them, even offered to them - and they choose not to accept it.

Unfortunately, this is often how conversations about race often end - in ignorance-fueled, heated arguments. Name-calling, accusations, attempts to tell the other person what and how they think and are. Both sides end up walking away, angrier than before, and more convinced of their own righteousness than before they entered into the conversation.

And - oddly enough - I don't think that's the way it should be handled. I happen to believe that - in conversations such as these - it's so important to find each other's point. However, it is important to find their point, so you can find what you accept and agree on, as opposed to finding their point so you can shoot holes in it. It is important to give each other the benefit of the doubt.

Because, in the end - the vast majority of people in the world really do want to be good. They want to do the right thing. They want to treat others well, be treated well, themselves, and have us all get along. I honestly believe that.

And, with that belief in hand, I am able to work with youth. Because, no matter what horrible things they may say or do to me or another (I've been called some amazing things), if I come to them and show them my belief that they can do it right, they are much more likely to go there. That doesn't mean I don't call them on their actions. It doesn't mean they don't have consequences for making poor choices. But it does mean that I hold their goodness and ability to change in mind, so that they know that I'm always going to be willing to help them fix it.

And guess what? It generally works. Abused kids. Homeless kids. Drug-addicted kids. Gang-affected kids. Hell - even white-supremacist kids. They all take out their frustrations in negative ways, expecting me to spit on them for it. But when I don't? When I don't yell at them or hit them or knock them down further? When I just say, "that's not okay, you've got to leave, and we'll talk about it tomorrow"? **

Not only do they end up coming back and talking to me about it - generally apologizing and taking responsibility - but they work to change. Slowly, for sure. But they do change. And improve. And become more like those "good kids" that they have always heard about, but never been compared to in a positive way. At least in my classroom. And in our school (because that's how our system works). But that's something, and I never claimed to be Mohammed, Jesus, or Buddha - so I'm not foolish enough to think I have the power to change their outside lives.

But, holy sh--, does it take patience. There are days when I get run ragged. When kids cross the line so far that it's all I can do to calmly ask them to leave. Days when I just want to flip a table and yell.

But they're just kids. So I can forgive them. Because I know all the terrible things they've survived just to make it to school at all. That what they do and say are founded in insecurity, hurt, and fear. And - often - ignorance. "Teachable moments" arise all the time when ignorance spurs an action.

And it's no different with adults. Yelling at them, insulting them, mocking them - it doesn't help bring change. Getting on a soapbox and berating them when they do wrong doesn't, either. Especially when you're talking about race.

I'm a teacher. And I know that trying to make somebody feel small for their ignorance (remember - just plain ol' lack of knowledge, ignorance is) only shuts their minds further. To open somebody up enough for them to learn, you have to reach them. And to reach them, you have to connect - to find common ground.

And so I do my best not to just go off on people when they say something that is offensive. Call them out, yes - but not attack. I have had folks - on this blog - berate me for putting on the kid gloves instead of tearing some folks a new one when they crossed the line. I get that. But - as my true goal is education - I don't see a knock-out blow as particularly useful for my cause. I'll be the first to admit that it feels better - but it doesn't help, in the long run.

Do I always follow through with this open-handed way of dealing with folks? Hell no. Because it's tiring. Much harder with adults, for me - because it's harder for me to forgive them. But most adults - especially when ignorant - are just big kids, and their ignorance is, surprisingly, not often their direct fault. And I try to remember that. The vast majority of hostile actions are just misdirected frustrations. And those frustrations are often real and deserved. How they are handled are not. So I hold that in mind when somebody pushes me.

But I'm not strong enough to do that all the time. I'm not strong enough to always gently call people out on their ignorance. So I'm not always gentle about it. Or, other times, I just bite my lip and let it go because I don't have the energy to handle it right, and I know the other way is going to be worse than pointless. I fail - often - in making my point clear. I get misunderstood all the time. Even when I do it right, not everyone wants to hear it.

And that's what being a conscious person of color is. A constant, moment-by-moment battle to keep an even keel and try to be the bigger person while surrounded by unknowing offenders, ignorant insults, and sub-conscious dismissal of our importance and humanity. And - mostly - we handle it. Mostly - we forgive and forget. Mostly, we take a step back and see the lack of overt malice in people's ignorant actions. Mostly, we do these things. Day after day after day after day after day . . .

But - once in a while, our fatigue catches up to us. We don't have the energy to be the bigger person. Our frustration rises up. And. We. Let. It. Out. It comes out as fire. As vitriol. As semi-automatic rage. As uprooted trees in a hurricane.

And that's when somebody who doesn't know any better steps in. Somebody who hasn't been worn out with being big all the time. Somebody who thinks race is moments in isolation and not an entire life lived. Somebody who doesn't know that they are in a privileged position to get to treat this one situation as just, one, situation.

And what does that person say? "Relax - it was just a joke." Or "why does everything have to be about race?" Or "I'm sorry that you were offended, but that's not what I meant." Then they mention "reverse racism" and various forms of evidence to support their "color-blind" attitudes towards life and how much better it would be if everybody else lived the same way.

And they walk away, never knowing that their words and actions just added more weight to a Giant's overburdened shoulders. That their lack of perspective and active ignorance contribute so strongly to the dying-out of the Bigger People. That, while all they noticed was the Giant's raw power and size (and thus, deemed it "dangerous"), they forgot to take note of its gigantic heart and how hard said organ must work to keep its owner alive.

All they "know" is that they would never "overreact" like that. And stereotypes and sub-conscious beliefs are reinforced.

So that when they stumble upon the Giant's bones one day, the only explanation they can come up with is that the Giant must have been "inferior" or "too primitive" and thus unable to survive, never realizing their own contributions to its demise.


* Yes, I know that this photo isn't real, by the way. It's pretty cool, though.

** It's a testament to our school that having to leave is a bad thing to our kids (the same kids who never attended and constantly skipped classes at their other schools).

*** I am, indeed, aware of the strange turn towards allegory that this post took at the end. But I kind of like it. So there.

Me, a Role Model?

When I think about what my future kids might be like - in terms of their racial identity - if I were to marry a white woman, I often think back to a student of mine:

Three years ago, this student joined my school as a 6th grader, we'll call him "S." From appearances alone, he seemed white - light skin, blue-grey eyes, general "white" features. He hung out with all white kids, and he identified as white when it came up (which was seldom, because it seemed so obvious). However, I was surprised to learn that he was a quarter Japanese when he mentioned that his mother was half-Japanese during a conversation when students were talking about my racial/ethnic background.

S. and I established a pretty good relationship over the year, one of mutual respect (as far as that goes in middle school), and he seemed to trust me. So, one day, he comes up to me at the beginning of the school day to ask me what a word meant. I didn't understand when he said it, but it was clearly a vaguely Asian-sounding word, so I asked him where he had heard it. He said, "some gook said it to me on my way to school."

I had a little record-scratch moment, and I said, "Do you know what you just said?" And I saw this look of confusion on his face, as he realized that I wasn't so happy about it. But he didn't understand - he thought I was referring to the "Chinese" word he had asked me to translate. And so I found myself explaining to a quarter-Asian kid why he shouldn't refer to other Asian folks as "gooks."

And I thought to myself: that's how disconnected from his Asian identity this kid is. And that is how it would be for my kid. I thought this story would end there.

But it didn't. It's three years later now. S. still goes to my school, but he's an 8th grader now, about to head on to high school. We've know each other for three years, and I have watched him grow, and we have established a really positive relationship (he recently said he's going to be a math teacher when he's older). He's often been in classes where I've talked about race, and my own background, etc.

So - the other day, he's sitting at a table playing dominoes with a bunch of kids in class (dominoes is probably one of the best games for having kids practice basic math skills without the kids realizing it), and he jokes with one of his friends, "Hey - are you lonely at this table because you're the only black kid?"

The other kid laughs it off and S. says, "I'm just kidding. Besides, I'm the only Asian kid at the table. But I'm not alone, because - insert the CVT's real name - is here."

I didn't say anything. I was caught too off guard. At this point, I always have something to say when race comes up in class, but this time - nothing. I just looked at S. And thought back to three years ago. And smiled.

Because S. claimed his identity so casually - yet clearly - right in front of my eyes. He claimed an identity that is an overwhelming minority at the school I teach (and in the area where these kids live). He claimed the identity of a race that is commonly ridiculed and mocked by the kids and adults that he is exposed to regularly. And he did it proudly.

And I can't help but feel an extreme sense of satisfaction about that. I definitely can't claim sole responsibility for this change (I'd hope his mom played a major part), but I don't really think it's a coincidence, either. I feel that my presence and way of being in the classroom and willingness to talk about my own identity must have had some influence on him. I'd like to think that the respect I've earned from the kids I teach - while simultaneously proclaiming my Asian-ness - has made "Asian" less foreign to them. A little bit less "other." More acceptable.

Maybe even something for those few with Asian blood to be proud of.

I've tried my best to be a positive, conscious racial (and otherwise) role model for the kids, and I think I mostly achieve that.

But I never saw this coming. I never expected to see S. identify himself as "Asian." And I never would have expected those around him to accept that so easily (not one kid said, "no you aren't" or "what are you talking about?").

Which makes me have to ask the question: if that's what happened with one of my students, what would it be like for my own kid?

Sometimes the world changes, and it starts like any other day.

Of course, this is by no means the end-all, be-all moment. He might change his mind in the future. He might never claim his Asian-ness outside of my classroom. My students probably think of me as "the exception" to the "Asian rules." Or maybe I reinforce them, somehow.

Be that as it may - I got to see a kid and his relationship to his own racial identity change (in what I believe to be a positive way). And I played a role in it. And no matter what else happens, that fact remains.

And it feels good.

And it gives me some hope for my kids (if they ever exist) - no matter the background of their mother.

And that's kind of reassuring.

On Sitting at the Same Table

The photo above is the best I could do to illustrate this post. I spent about a half hour searching for an image that showed what I was going to talk about - with little luck. Because what I'm about to convey is - obviously - very uncommon.

The other day, I was hanging out with my kids at lunch, munching on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (with apricot jelly - that's my lunch almost every day at school) and watching them interact. I looked around at the various clumps of kids talking and messing with each other, and something seemed strange.

They were laughing and playing with their food - nothing odd there. The girls and boys were insulting each other while simultaneously trying to find a reason to touch each other - perfectly natural.

So what was up?

OH! The groups weren't separated by race!

Seriously.

Now, a while back, I wrote a post (On Kids and Race) about the kids self-segregating themselves by race in the classroom and at lunch (when they had a choice of seats). Basically, I argued that that wasn't such a bad thing - inherently - and that it reflected true diversity in the fact that there were enough of each race for kids to actually do that. I said that it was all about being comfortable and finding security, and so it was good that the kids were able to find that (and that that's just how things fall out).

But, suddenly (probably not so suddenly, but that's how I noticed it), we're two-thirds through the school year, and the kids are sitting in groups that are all mixed up, racially.

So now, I have to ask - how did THAT happen?! After my post about how self-segregation is natural and happens everywhere, how can I explain how it stopped happening in our school?

The truth? It didn't.

That's right - even though all the kids are sitting in little photo-op racially-diverse groups at lunch, self-segregation has not stopped happening.

Instead, it's just the characteristics that the kids are self-segregating for have changed.

We're a small school (60 students total in our student body). We've kept our main group (probably about 40 kids) largely intact through the year (kids come and go all the time with us, but we've been able to retain more this year). We are a relationship-based program, so we are constantly talking about building our school community, kids sit down with each other and talk out their conflicts (it's hard to avoid connection when you're two middle school kids explaining why you're angry and sharing other feelings with each other). Our kids constantly talk about our school as a family (with the positives and negatives that come from that).

And so they know each other pretty well, now. They started by dividing themselves up by race for immediate comfort and security, but - due to the way we do things, combined with the small population - they couldn't avoid learning about each other. They couldn't avoid interacting with each other. And so they couldn't avoid finding common ground with each other. And, subsequently - they couldn't avoid making friends with folks outside of their respective races.

It's a beautiful little social experiment tied up in a neat little bow.

But does this all mean that there aren't cliques? Of course not. Does it mean that the kids "all just get along"? No. It just means that tensions and divisions drawn along racial lines are few and far between.

It's noticeable in behavior, as well. Earlier in the year, the kids of color who had trouble with our white teachers would often fall back on race as an issue and explanation for why they had trouble in those classes (to be honest, I think those were actually pretty accurate assessments); but now, the kids are more likely to find specific reasons and actions for the disconnect, without necessarily tying them to race.*

I don't hear the students lumping a bunch of students together by race in explanations of who they have problems with - race is no longer the unifier, and so they are much less likely to group or stereotype by race.

And these are all HUGE. Middle school kids are always going to have conflicts. They're always going to take out their frustrations on somebody else, at times (especially kids like the ones I work with, who have plenty of valid reasons to be frustrated). But if they have removed the lens of race as a means to focus on who to blame or who to be angry at, that's an incredibly important thing.

And it all goes to show that all it really takes is exposure. Science has proven this time and again, but nobody seems to follow through on acting on that. If kids (and adults) just had to work with large numbers of folks of another race (or many other races) on a regular basis over an extended period of time, their inherent prejudices and stereotypes would fade. Period.

The key being large numbers of another race. White folks like to talk about their (one or two) "black friends" as proof of their lack of prejudice - while living out a lie. The reason that is possible? Because those few black (or other raced) friends are only kept in mind as the exception. It takes much larger numbers - the true diversity I have mentioned before - to change rules (that's just how the human mind works).

Same thing for every other race or minority group. Enmity and anger and blame and misunderstanding attached to an entire group based on race cannot go away (or at least be handled reasonably) without full, consistent exposure to other groups.

Which makes me always think of my solution to the problems of race in this country: mandatory social service. At age 18, everybody enters a two-year social service program that entails moving to another state and living and working with a group of other young people of all different races and backgrounds. It would broaden folks' life experiences, improve our infrastructure (without using prisoners as slave-labor, but that's another story), and expose everybody in this f-ing country to people unlike themselves. Cause them to form bonds with people that don't look like them. And make it so much more likely that general empathy and understanding would start seeping into how people in this country dealt with each other on a regular basis.

And I know what a lot you are thinking - "like that would change anything - everybody would just self-segregate by race and background right off the bat, which would increase tensions." And you'd be right - at the beginning. But two years is a long time (in some ways). Enough to put folks in positions - time and again - to rely on the people from other backgrounds. To get to know those from other backgrounds. And, eventually (as with my school), to become friends with those from other backgrounds. And how beautiful would that be?

It won't ever happen, of course. But it would work. Maybe when I become the third mixed-race president . . .

*A quick note here - I really do think that race is a major reason for why the teachers weren't able to connect fully with those students (I think that's our biggest failure as a program, our lack of true diversity in experience and understanding by staff, in general). By no means were the kids playing the "race card." However, it's still very important that the kids are now able to specify exactly what things are happening that they have difficulty with, as opposed to extrapolating it out to simply a matter of race and leaving it at that.

On Bad Timing for a Good Thing

So - if you've been reading this blog (somewhat) regularly, you know that I'm pretty frustrated with the education system these days. I find it misguided, often irrelevant, and completely unequal in the opportunities it offers kids based on class and race (and gender, I should add).

As a result, I've been pondering a break. With this frustration on me, with my seeming inability to do some inspired math teaching, it seemed like a good time to make a move. I've known for a long time that I need to spend some real time in China to finally figure out what that side of my blood all means to me, but things keep coming up. So I decided that - next Fall/Winter - no matter what, I was going to make that trip, and I wasn't about to let anything get in my way.

Which seemed perfect, since I was feeling a little burnt, anyway. So I gave word to my boss and my co-workers, and I started making plans. For the last few months, I've been slowly setting up my departure from this country, and it seemed like everything was falling into place to make that the best choice.

And then, today, something happened. I sat down with my boss (we have scheduled one-on-one meetings every two weeks or so) and started talking about improvements we could make to our school's structure and way of doing things to best meet our kids' (and our staffs', really) needs. I talked - again - about my frustration with the State math standards. How I felt they kept me from doing my best teaching. How my elective classes (Psychology and Music Production) have been so damn FUN and educational and positive for the kids (and me). How I wished there was a way I could do the same for my math classes.

And none of that was new, really. I've had this conversation before. And, basically, they ended up with me and my boss agreeing that I just wasn't as passionate about math, and so I didn't spend the time making it as dynamic and empowering as my elective classes. That's where it would have ended any other today.

But today . . . I don't know what happened. But right when I would have normally hit that wall I've hit so often this year (of "f-ing system sucks, no way around it, f--- math"), I kept right on going to a SOLUTION. Inspiration struck me right between the eyes, and I couldn't stop talking. I started talking about how I could totally restructure the math curriculum to stop even looking like a math class. How I could basically turn it all into faux-electives that just so happened to teach all the hard math skills I've been trying to teach - but in a more hands-on, relevant way to the kids.

My boss mentioned me not coming back, and I said, "yeah . . ."

But I couldn't stop. The meeting ended, and I ran to my room, sat down at my desk with a pencil and the state math standards, and I drew out an outline of my restructured math curriculum. Suddenly, "Math" had turned into a year-long project divided into three large pieces - from start to finish, the kids were going to come up with a new product to market, test "public interest" through surveys, design a corporate office building and product, budget and make projections on earnings and market shares . . . And I incorporated almost every damn state standard into the whole deal.

The kids were going to take control over their learning, be creative, while learning hard math skills and how to apply them to real problems. Holy sh--!!! It's the freaking Holy Grail of middle school math teachers. And it just came to me like a bolt from the blue . . .

A few months before I've decided to leave the teaching field for a while.

A few months before I've decided to leave the teaching field for a while. Not enough time to implement anything at all.

And, suddenly, I'm thinking about coming back for "one more year."

But I can't - because I promised myself I wouldn't let anything stop me from making this trip. Because I know there will always be some reason to delay it for another year. Every year will bring me closer to one commitment or another that will keep me from ever being able to go. So I have to go now.

But I just came up with something so beautiful . . . And what if I never end up implementing it? What if my trip to China changes the trajectory of my life and this inspiration and (possibly) brilliant idea never makes it out to the world? Because that's how things work - I know too well.

Why did this have to happen now!? Why not a year ago? Why not in two years?

So exciting and yet so disheartening at the same time. I'm going to have to do some serious soul-searching now, and I'd rather not.

I honestly believe "everything happens for a reason," so I'll find the reason in all of this, and it should all end up how it ought to - but that doesn't make it any less beautifully frustrating right now. Not at all.

Such bad timing for such a good thing to happen . . .

Positive for Just One More Day

I get plenty of opportunities to complain about all that's wrong with this country and society, etc. on this blog, but I'd like to just keep the positive feelings going for one more day.

I started my morning watching all the clips of the Obamas' inaugural evening - all their balls and dances and mini-speeches. And I have to say, outside of all the other great things about this man (and his family) moving into the White House, is the fact that he and his wife actually seem to like each other. Maybe even - Heaven forbid - love each other. All the times she'd lean in and whisper something in his ear, him laughing softly about it - that's what couples are supposed to do.

And, really - when was the last time you saw a presidential couple act like that? When was the last time the President and his wife looked like anything other than a marriage of convenience? Seriously?

And then the man does the bump on the dance floor . . . Do I really have to say anything else about that?

So, full of these positive little feelings about the new first family and what it symbolizes, I headed to school to start a new term. Due to the nature of our school (and the transience of our population), we get new students every term, and this one was no different.

So we're in my third period math class, doing class introductions, going over my classroom expectations and what-not, and I look over to one of the new students (a Somalian girl) sitting off to my left. She's furiously scribbling something on a piece of paper with a big grin on her face, and I can't help but wonder what she's up to.

And then she holds up her sign, with the most blissful and proud look on her face. The sign? It reads, "My President is BLACK!"

She sees me read it, and I look at her. We catch eyes, she gives me a big grin, and I couldn't help but laugh and smile a big-ass goofy smile.

This is a student that I just met this morning. One who came to my school because things weren't working out in her previous public school. Who had regular problems with her teachers, has plenty of reason to be angry and sad and distrustful. And we got to share this on her first day.

You'll be damn sure I'll never forget it, either.

On Engaged Learning

I walked out of my class for a minute today to get some water, and none of my kids noticed.

Let me say that again - I walked out of my class for a minute today to get some water, and none of my kids noticed.

Yeah, I teach middle school (at the "middle school" of all middle schools, no less), and I walked out of my class for a minute, and none of my kids noticed.

There's something very wrong with that picture. Seriously.

For one - considering the particular kids I work with (so-called "at-risk youth;" the kids that other middle schools cast away) it's crazy that I left a room full of students completely unattended. The fact that I even thought about it is kind of crazy (considering what would normally happen if I did that).

The second part - even crazier than the first - is that they didn't even notice. Not a one. They didn't even know I slipped out.

Why was that? Well, considering how "bad" those kids must be, it's probably because they were fighting. Or playing violent video games. Or maybe they were so crazy and "out of control" that they didn't notice me leave because they never pay attention to me, anyway. Right?

Nope. They didn't notice because they were totally engaged in learning. Yeah - you heard me. A room full of middle school kids didn't even know that I left the area because they were too intent on learning to look up and see me gone. They were too happily discovering new things by themselves that they didn't even think to find me to ask for help.

I kid you not.

Now, this is not a post to talk about how great a teacher I am. Because, to be honest, this is the first time this has ever happened (could be the only time, too). No - instead, I write of it because it was so amazing to me. It is also a good representation of what's wrong with the education system today.

The class the kids were in was my elective Music Production class. In this class, I am teaching (along with another teacher) kids to write original music; use digital software to sample, loop and edit tracks; make their own beats using a digital drum machine; and to write and record lyrics to produce a complete song (that will be burned to a cd and given to them at the end of the trimester).

Today, the kids were so engrossed in putting together their music and playing with samples, that they didn't have time to "get into trouble." They weren't messing with each other. They weren't putting each other down. They weren't complaining about being bored or getting frustrated because it "didn't make sense." No - they were just creating something new, and learning how to do so through the experience of playing with sounds.

And it's easy to say - "Well of course they were into that, because it wasn't real learning."

But it was. In the last few weeks, they have been intently writing lyrics for their songs - expressing joy, pain, love, and other emotions they never share with each other (or anybody else). They have been learning to get comfortable with the computer software. They have learned about beats, bars, rhythm, and how to keep musical time. They have learned how to determine a song's tempo. They've created hip-hop music, rock songs, motown-esque ballads. They've had art, math, social skills, language arts, and a little bit of history all in one class.

And every single one of them has been in it from start to finish. And it's not like these are some special selection of kids. I have two classes of Music Production, with a very representative cross-section of our student population (almost half the school, really), they have been learning more - and actively so - than in any other class I've ever taught.

But there's one huge problem: this is the exception. It should not be such a huge f-ing deal that I left a class of kids to learn, and there was no problem. It should not be so amazing that the kids are happily learning through experience. It should not blow my mind that the majority of the time in class today (after 10 minutes of in-front-of-the-class "teaching"), I just sat and watched the kids create. That they called my name to share what they had made - not to ask for help or call out other students.

Because our schools in this country don't work like that. Our school system does not provide for this kind of learning to happen. There is too much B.S. "content" to teach in the "core" classes (math, science, reading) to slow down enough to really dive in and enjoy a particular topic. Budgets are too small to allow for anything even remotely "artsy" to get funding - even when hard academic skills are being learned. Teachers don't get paid enough nor have the time to put in to create truly engaging lesson plans. Training is a joke. Most teachers are doing it for the wrong reasons or are completely disconnected from the kids they teach. Those that do it right do so at the cost of sacrificing most of their outside life. So many things are wrong with the system - and they all combine to keep this from happening: kids so engaged in learning that they don't even really need the teacher, or feel like they're "learning."

But it's possible. So when our kids hate school and can't help but go a little crazy when they are there - it might just be the fault of the school, and not necessarily the kids. Or, more accurately, it might just be the fault of the school system, and not so much the kids. Because these students I'm talking about are the kids that society wants to forget. These are the ones that are "bad" and "disrespectful" and "lack discipline" and everything else folks like to throw at them. And yet - these are the same kids that created the "perfect learning environment" that teachers speak of in hushed whispers of impossibility.

What if somebody had enough and finally rebuilt - ground to ceiling - this depressing school system so that that was the norm? It could happen. My math classes could look like this, no matter the kids. If only the "system" would allow it to happen.

And I can't help but think that it's likely impossible. At least very improbable. But I won't let go of the surprisingly-wonderful gift this country gave me two months ago, and so I allow that it's worth it to hope. Hell - maybe I can even be an active part of that change.

And so I turn to you, dear readers - how best can I begin the Education Revolution?

On True Education

I could be a kick-ass teacher. I really could. Sometimes, I am a kick-ass teacher. But I could be one on a regular basis.

If our education system wasn't so f---ed.

I teach at a middle school. My particular designation is "Math," but I also teach elective classes twice a week (currently, Music Production and Psychology; I taught Public Speaking and a podcasting class last term). And guess when I'm more often a kick-ass teacher?

Yeah - not when I'm teaching math.

Some of the problem is my lack of passion for the subject-matter. I always hated math when I was in school, so my main motivation is to not have it be as painful as it was for me as a kid. When I teach my elective classes, I obviously pick subjects that I'm interested in or even passionate about, and that comes out in how I teach.

But the passion vs. lack thereof isn't actually the main problem. No - the main difference between how I teach (and plan curriculum for) my math classes versus my elective classes is simple: there's so much bullsh-- involved in teaching math, and little to none in my other classes.

So - why is that? Good question. It's because I have to teach math to the State Standards. Which really means that I have to teach to the annual State-administered tests for each grade level. And so exactly what I have to cover is pretty much laid out for me in advance by some hypothetical panel of "experts."

And my questions to these "experts" is: how do you decide what is important to "know"? Really? Because so much of the subject-matter I have to cover is complete and utter B.S. Complete. And utter. Really.

I mean - honestly - how many of you all have ever used a box-and-whisker plot in your real life? Or a stem-and-leaf plot? How often has the Pythagorean Theorem come in handy (and if it ever has, what was the chance that you couldn't easily look it up when you needed it)? Outside of basic math functions, how many specific math concepts have ever been necessary without being able to readily look it up or gain assistance?

Now, I believe in the value of mathematics. I think the problem-solving skills are handy. A basic knowledge of algebra is great for better solving real-life math problems. The various ways of thinking and pattern-recognition learned through practicing math skills are invaluable. But what difference does it really make if some kid knows how to make a freaking box-and-whisker plot as opposed to spending that time mastering more basic skills at a deeper level?

Because I could make math relevant to the kids. I could come up with some ridiculous, fun and hands-on games and activities that would hone kids' math skills. I could teach the Hell out of math. If I didn't have to waste so much time on B.S. that some imaginary board came up with as "important" enough to put on the standardized tests that my kids' academic standing and progress are measured by. If I didn't have to scrap deeper-level learning and comprehension and actual MASTERY because my quality as a math teacher is gauged by how much improvement my kids make on B.S. tests that put as much weight on being able to determine the measures of alternate interior angles as calculating averages - with almost NO emphasis on true comprehension and problem-solving skills.

And it kills me. When the kids ask "when are we ever going to use this?" and all I have is a lie because I can't just say "after the test, you won't."

So I constantly skim over subject-matter. Never getting deep enough into any of it for it to be relevant or stick or just be interesting because there's always something else they "need to know to do well on the test."

Because our society loves tests. We love to do surveys and quizzes that tell us what our personality type is. We try to come up with formulas that can match the "perfect mates" based on multiple-choice questionnaires. We talk about people's high IQs as if that has any bearing on common sense or people skills. And we measure academic skills based on how a student did on a test without ever really bothering to find out if the kid actually understands any of it.

And it's especially frustrating to me because I know just how little these kinds of tests demonstrate true knowledge or understanding. A conversation demonstrates understanding. Being able to teach somebody else demonstrates understanding. A multiple-choice test usually just demonstrates your socio-economic background mixed in with some rote learning.

And it's not like the other subjects I teach aren't broad topics. They're vast. But it's up to me to focus my curriculum and classroom activities based on relevance, the kids' interests, etc. I actually get to take into account who my kids are, what my particular strengths as a teacher are, and what the desired end result is. And trust me - in none of my non-math classes do the kids finish up with a test. They debate topics of their choice in Public Speaking. They design their own Psychology experiments and run them. They produce their own cd with their own music in Music Production (obviously). All demonstrating true understanding, all relevant, all self-directed, and all great learning opportunities even if they don't go perfectly (especially if they don't).

And that's true education. That's how learning should happen. And that's kick-ass teaching.

Too bad the current system doesn't allow my math students to experience that.

On Code-Switching

Yeah - that's right. That's a photo of some thuggish-ruggish, street-repping ASIAN youth. Kids like many I've worked with who balance the American street life with traditional "Asian" cultural systems at home with the dominant white cultural systems of the establishment. Think that's easy?

There's a term that I've heard off and on within educational circles called "Code-switching." Now, this term was initially coined in terms of bilingual people - whose brains adapted to switch linguistic coding depending on their situation: such as English at school, and a different language at home. In countries where people grow up speaking even more languages, this is even more evident as people can end up switching between three or four different languages in one social situation, depending on who is there and the circumstances.

When used by educators (and other social workers), however, "code-switching" is use more broadly as a term referring to adjusting to different cultural situations, in general (including language, but not only language). And this isn't just in terms of ethnically mixed folks (like me), but anybody that finds themselves regularly interacting with people of very different cultural backgrounds.

Specifically, this idea is used by educators to discuss the obstacles in the way of many students within the current public education system in the United States. Because, to be blunt, our schools are run within the parameters of the dominant white, middle-class culture. This means that the values being enforced are white, middle-class values - whether or not that reflects the students (or even staff) in the system. So anybody from a different demographic (whether it's by socio-economic status, race, sexual orientation, or otherwise) comes in at a distinct disadvantage; because they come in having to learn new rules of social interaction, new ways to handle situations, different ways to communicate - all on top of the academics they are also expected to learn.

The problem being, of course, that few teachers actually go about TEACHING any of these new rules or ways of communication. Since the education system is so biased towards this white middle-class cultural mindset (and usually hires those from within that demographic), it is often assumed that this mindset is "normal" - thus, kids who are not fluent in the ways of being and communicating in this system are "bad kids" or "trouble-makers," etc. Students are assumed to have an instinctual knowledge of these rules, and so nobody takes the time to TEACH it - and so the kids who come in from a background of poverty, or a different ethnic or racial culture often suffer disciplinary repercussions, as well as poor school performance.

And this is where the concept of "code-switching" comes in. Because it is not necessarily a bad thing that schools move through a white middle-class cultural framework. Nor is it necessarily a good thing. It just IS. And, realistically, most of the professional world in the United States operates from an identical framework, so it is important for kids to master an understanding of these "rules" in order to move up, economically. It's not exactly fair (since it puts kids from a different cultural viewpoint at a distinct disadvantage), but it's brutal reality.

So some educators have begun to try to actively teach students how to code-switch in order to be successful in school. What that entails is throwing out a lot of the judgments that usually come when a student isn't following implicit school rules (such as levels of volume that are "too loud," ways of interacting that are "disrespectful," or ways of communicating that are "violent" or "aggressive") and instead teaching the student how to adjust. For example, a teacher could tell a kid, "Hey - I know it's not so easy to just 'turn the other cheek' in real life, but you've got to be able to find other ways to handle it if you're going to be successful in school and/or keep a well-paying job" and then following up with some brain-storming of other ways to solve it in a way that works within the system, but also for the kid.

Because, for many kids that don't fall under the white middle-class umbrella (which, actually - are the majority) coming to school can be like playing football all their lives and then suddenly being thrown into a basketball game without ever having the rules explained to them. So when the coach tells them to keep the other team from scoring, there's one most likely outcome: the kid tackles the Hell out of the dribbler in the middle of the court, gets thrown out of the game, yelled at by coach and other players and fans, and hates the sport of basketball ever afterward. At least, that's what would happen if the coach ASSUMED the kid had seen/played basketball before. If the coach was working with a kid he knew was new to the sport - a very different outcome would result.

And that's what happens in our current education system. We have a bunch of teachers (coaches) who ASSUME that kids know all of the many implicit rules of the white middle-class cultural game because that's the framework within which those teachers have lived their entire life. And so the kids end up getting themselves in unwinnable situations that end up in tragedy.

Of course, some folks are better adapted to code-switching than others: for, instance, those who have been practicing it from infancy. Those people who learned from a very young age about the changing rules of the game. Those who implicitly comprehend the very fluid nature of cultural values and are able to read the subtle cues that can clue them in to ways to be in different cultural situations. One such group of people are mixed folks like me. And that's why I will forever be grateful for my mixed background - because it gave me this inherent code-switching ability that most people don't have.

Because I grew up knowing - when I visit my Chinese grandparents, I should act this certain way, and talk this certain way, eat this certain way, etc; when I'm with my white grandparents, I should do these other things; when I'm with my friends, I should be like this. When I lived in Tanzania, people were constantly commenting on how "Tanzanian" I became - in action, mannerisms, ways of thought. But it was natural for me, because I was born into an adaptive cultural world, so I sub-consciously adjusted to a "Tanzanian" way of living and speaking as a matter of course. I have lived my life with a given intuitive knowledge that there are a whole number of different cultural ways of being and acting, and they are not on a hierarchy of "good" or "bad" or "rude" or "acceptable" - but rather a spectrum of "how this group does things." And that will forever be the greatest gift my mixed background has given me.

The problem is, of course, that those without an inherent understanding of cultural fluidity so often peg folks like me (let's call us "Instinctual Code-Switchers" or ICS) as "sell-outs" or trying to "play both sides" because of our ability to interact at the cultural level of whomever we happen to be with. I am now able to start pegging the distinct ways I change my demeanor depending on who I'm talking to, and it's interesting to me. I completely change my body language depending on the demographic of the people around me, and it is completely automatic. I've even tried NOT to do it, at time, and it's an actual fight for me to do so. And I'll tell you this - it is NOT "fake." It is not "selling out." It's just being able to better communicate between cultures and to adapt to subtle cultural cues to get along better.

Because we all do this on a regular basis. We all talk differently to our friends in a relaxed atmosphere than with our co-workers at work (on rare occasions, we don't . . .). We act differently in a job interview. We speak differently to our elders (hopefully) than to our peers than to small children. When we go to a show, we take on the mannerisms and adjust to the expectations of the specific fan-base for the show we are watching, whether it's rock, hip-hop, or the symphony. We are constantly code-switching as we move from situation to situation.

But when we do the same thing between racial cultural situations, people get uncomfortable. POC tell other POC we're "acting white." White folks get upset when POC don't automatically adjust to a white cultural framework and wonder why "they act that way." We make jokes about how people do things in other countries, or in ethnic cultures different from our own. We make tv shows called "Bizarre Foods" and crack jokes about the people of the country we are visiting.

And why? Because we don't directly acknowledge code-switching and how it works in our society. White teachers are afraid to tell their students that, in essence, they actually ARE being asked to "act white" to do well in school.* POC are afraid to admit that we do, indeed, "act white" in order to get better jobs. We all tip-toe around it because it's so damn touchy - and, in the meantime, our education system fails the majority of our children. Were we able to simply say - "there are certain rules to every game you play, and the specific rules for the game called 'do well in school' or 'get a promotion' are like this . . ." Kids are all about rules and fairness, so when you explain it to them in these terms, it settles them. You're not telling them how they do things are wrong or bad or any other such judgement - simply that they've got to learn some different rules and adjust to them to play these particular games.

Because, again - these kids are no less skilled or intelligent than their white middle-class counterparts.** In fact, I would argue that they must be a little MORE skilled and intelligent to be able to adapt (something others don't have to do) and still be successful. And this is why I think white college kids so often struggle with all-black fraternities, or the existence of BET, or why an Asian students' coalition is NOT the same as a white supremacist group - because these are the very kids who NEVER had to learn to racially code-switch in order to survive. Because they never had to adjust their ways of thinking or being to make do. And so they are unable to wrap their heads around the concept of different cultural value systems, or how other people do things without judging it based on their own narrow views.

And, oddly enough - it's not really their fault. It's frustrating as Hell, and often makes me want to scream - but it's more a flaw in the system than anything specific to them, personally. Because nobody ever explicitly taught them about code-switching or how it works or its prevalence in our society. To them, that has never been shown to exist because we're all so scared to admit it, and so they are allowed to roll through their lives in ignorance. It's the backbone of white privilege. Tell people to "respect other cultures" by saying "that's a pretty dress" or "I really love your hair" without ever having to understand that it's just about different rules to a game, thus eliminating "normality" and replacing it with "how things are done in this particular situation/place."

And so right here represents the beginning of a movement. Whether you're white or a person of color - please start openly acknowledging how code-switching works in our society. Just be honest about it. Teach your kids about it. Talk to your friends about the different rules you all play by. And if you're an educator? Start changing the system by just being open and frank about what we're asking our kids to do to be successful - and stop assuming they "should know how to behave." Please.

* Specifically, "middle-class white."

** Again, I must stress the "middle-class" aspect of the educational culture here, because white kids coming from poverty struggle with the adjustment in the same way that their more colorful peers do.

*** Thinking about it, I should probably specify that the educational system runs from a STRAIGHT white middle-class cultural viewpoint, as I have no doubt that GBLT students must also do some heavy code-switching to have success in school.

On Kids and Race

Some comments on a post at Racialicious caused me to feel the need to write this post. In short, the comments were talking about students self-segregating themselves by race (white kids sitting with white kids, black kids with black kids, etc.) and whether or not that was a "bad" thing. Well, here are my two cents.

I'm a middle school teacher. Currently, the school I teach in is about 50% white, 35% black, 14% Latino, and then one mixed-Asian kid. And the kids definitely DO self-segregate themselves in the classroom, lunchroom - wherever they have a choice of seating arrangement for themselves.

And the question always comes: is this a "bad" thing. Shouldn't we be getting the kids to mix it up? Does it mean that the kids are already "racist" and we're only encouraging that by letting it happen?

There are different ways to look at this, but in the end - for me - my answer is that this is perfectly fine. There is NOTHING wrong with it, whatsoever. It just depends on how it's all handled.

Because the thing is that kids come in to school insecure. They're scared. Middle school is all about hormonal fluctuations, awkwardness, and embarrassment. And so they come in on hyper-alert for anything that might knock their already-crumbling sense of self all the way down.

So - at the beginning - they want a sense of security. And the first, most basic sense of security comes from feeling like the rest of the people they are around are "like them." It's what we continue to do into adulthood - looking for people "like us" to be around, spend time with, and establish close relationships with. So, for the kids (and before they know any other students all too well), they rely on the most basic instinctual indicator of likeness that they can find: physical appearance. That includes clothes (dressing "goth," "skater," "hip-hop") as well as race, but when people talk about self-segregation, it's race they are looking at, and it's the most obvious.

So the black kids end up sitting with the other black kids. White kids hang with white kids. Latino with Latino. And the one mixed-Asian kid sits by himself. And - especially at the beginning - that's okay (with the exception of the lone mixed kid).

Because it helps the kids find a comfort level with school. And without that particular comfort-level, they would head into classes a little more on edge, a little more ready to find a fight (or a breakdown).

No - the REAL problem is the way this phenomenon is generally perceived and/or acted upon. White people are generally the most disturbed by this particular situation. White people get horrified by "all-black" fraternities. They get intimidated when the people of color are all hanging out together, and they talk about how "non-inclusive" that is. They call it "reverse-racism."

And the same idea is put onto self-segregating kids by white teachers. But I have a secret for you all: what are the only schools where this kind of segregation DOES NOT happen (when the kids have choice)? Think about it . . . Think . . . Right - the only schools where this doesn't happen are the schools that are heavily dominated by one race (90% or so) - where there are not enough students of another race to successfully self-segregate. Where the kids that don't make up the majority are at a horrible disadvantage - isolated and on edge due to standing out so strongly. And, normally, this is in mostly-white schools (but it's definitely true at mostly-black schools, as well).

So what does self-segregation at a school indicate? True numerical racial diversity, plain and simple. But it's hard for white teachers to see that, because they live in a world (generally) that DOES NOT HAVE that true numerical racial diversity. Let me say that again - the world white teachers live in does not have true numerical racial diversity. Not that the U.S. doesn't have a level of racial diversity, but that the circles and social worlds that white teachers generally walk through are NOT truly diverse.

They may have their token friends of color, but their worlds are probably highly white outside of - perhaps - their schools. Because most teachers are white, middle-class college graduates. And most white, middle-class college graduates do exactly what they fear their kids doing: self-segregate. They hang out with other middle-class college graduates who (statistically-speaking) are going to be white, most of the time. But it's not obvious that they are self-segregating in this way precisely because large numbers of another race (or more) are absent. They say, "my group of friends is diverse" because they have those two black friends, and three gay friends, and an Asian friend, while all the rest are white and straight. That's NOT diverse.

And let me say again that I'm generalizing. But it's still valid. And it's mostly the same with the teachers of color, in all likelihood- because we adults tend to self-segregate, as well. But the key difference is that white people tend to fear that when it's made obvious - by the presence of a large number of racial minorities - while people of color understand that as a fact of life. For us, it's a survival technique in a mostly-white world.

And that's where the fear and defensiveness come in when white folks see self-segregation happen in front of them. The simple fact of their own, isolated self-segregation causes them to not be prepared to deal with large groups of another race doing the same. They call themselves "open-minded" because they "allowed" a couple people of color (that come from their own narrow background) to be their friends, and they call those at a mostly-black party "reverse-racists" because their asses weren't kissed when they walked in the door. It's why seeing self-segregation in a school as a "threat" is a mind's clever way of veiling prejudice and a desire to "protect" the white kids.

But I digress. My point being that self-segregation is perfectly natural and the fact that it is possible reflects the numerical diversity that kids need to not feel isolated when in school. To be a little less fearful that a teacher or classmate is going to pick on them or be "against" them because they don't have other people like themselves around. And that is hugely important in a middle school setting (and anywhere, really). And that level of comfort opens up a kid's confidence enough to live out the following situation (which I will end with, as a positive note):

One day, in my math class, one of my black students raises his hand. When I call on him, he asks, "Why are all the black kids sitting on this side of the room, and all the white kids are on that side?"

My guess is that a white teacher without a true knowledge of diversity would hem and haw and change the subject. Luckily, I'm not a white teacher. And so I respond by asking him, "That's a good question, why do you think that happened?" The rest of the class period is spent in an all-class dialogue where we look at social dynamics of race, stereotypes, the need to fit in, etc. Every kid shares their opinion. Every kid has something insightful to say.

After that? No - all the kids didn't start sitting in a completely mixed racial arrangement like in a political photo-op. But they interacted with each other differently, and had a better understanding of themselves and why they chose to be where they did -without it necessarily having to be a "bad" thing or about "not getting along."

And that's just fine with me because that conversation never could have happened in a school where there were too few kids of color to self-segregate, in the first place.

On Gentrification

We're hurting. Hard. The school I teach at is severely under-enrolled right now, and we keep losing kids. Why? Well, there are different reasons (many of them based on the transient population we serve*), but the biggest one is this: gentrification.

Now, when I talk about gentrification right now, all I'm talking about is property costs going up in certain areas, forcing out those who used to live in the area (usually those in a lower economic bracket). Usually this happens when the middle-to-upper-middle-class moves in. When coffee shops start popping up on every corner, hip bars and restaurants appear, and the streets get a little white-washed.

But this isn't how it always is. It's not always about race and the immediate area getting noticeably fancier. Sometimes, it's so subtle that nobody is really aware of it except for people in certain situations that make them see it first-hand. Like those of us working in my school.

Because people who know Portland "know" the gentrified (or gentrify-ING, more specifically) areas of town: the Alberta Arts area, the Pearl, MLK (proceeding steadily northwards). But they wouldn't really think of the area my school is in. Because it's just not as obvious. Sure, the steady creeping is visible, but not far enough that you would think of this as a "gentrified" neighborhood.

Partly because it's not necessarily people of color that are getting moved out. Most of those we've lost who have had to move far out of town to find affordable housing are white kids and their families (I guess that's naturally how it works in a city as white as Portland). So it's a lot less visually obvious when they are getting replaced by more white folks.

Second, there aren't a lot of coffee shops around here. The fancy stores and boutiques haven't crept in (and probably won't for a while). In fact, the coffee shop that opened across the street has already closed. Because it's just not that kind of neighborhood yet. There aren't any condos on our main street.

But it's coming. Oh, yes - it's coming. Because the steady shift has already begun. In fact, it probably started a few years back, but now we're starting to feel the first tremors, here on the ground. I'm watching kids that have finally found a school that works for them, where they can actually trust the staff around them, have to up and move out of town because of economics. Many of them.

So much so that our numbers are devastatingly low. Which is going to hurt our funding, which causes us to have to make compromises to make up for it, which leads to us not being able to do our best work. It's this trend that has seen many public schools in Portland closed due to under-enrollment (and let's just say it's not the ones in the "better off" areas of town). It's this trend that is squeezing the working-class of this city. And in this time of increasing gas costs, having to move FARTHER from work hurts all the more.

But there's not much that can be done, as far as I can tell. The only people who really care about it or are affected by it are the ones without the power or voice to really DO anything. Many of the folks who work in organizations like mine trying to SERVE those people affected by this trend are also - ironically - the ones moving into these neighborhoods; being proud of the "diversity" of where they live while displacing the original residents. And then everybody else is excited about it all because it shows that Portland is in a time of "renewal" and has so many "up-and-coming" neighborhoods.

So who do I talk to to stop this? Is there really a point in trying? Are we just going to lose more and more kids until we become an alternative school for the children of the "hip," middle-class liberals that replaced our original families?

I don't really know. But it worries me. And bothers me. And saddens me when my kids keep coming in and telling me that they're not going to go to this school anymore because they have to move. Sure - it's all part of the job I took on. It's all part of who we serve - and I am aware of that and able to handle it. But I still don't like where this is all leading . . .


* I teach at an alternative middle school that serves primarily "at-risk" youth. I hate using that term because of how much it smacks of catch-phrase, but most people know what I mean by that. It's kids who have gotten kicked out of the public school system or were otherwise unsuccessful for many different reasons (although poverty often plays a large part).

On Stereotypes (My Own)

So, in trying to be (or become) a somewhat politicized person of color, I often find myself in conversations about race (in the real world or online). And, holy crap, do I get sick of some of the repetition that occurs in those conversations, primarily, claims by other people about not having their own prejudice or - worse yet - being "color blind."

Every time I hear that I want to stick a fork directly into my eardrum, so I never have to hear it again (or into that person's voice box). Seriously - every time.

So why does it bother me so much? Because it's so ridiculous. And unnecessary. We all know that everybody else has prejudices and stereotypes in their heads. We also know that, in spite of that fact, there are still plenty of conscious people out there trying to make things better. It's human nature - we like to group things (and each other), and that's impossible without adhering to stereotypes (because, otherwise, there are so many more ways that each individual is different from any other than alike.

Therefore, if we take that knowledge just one extra step, we get to this: we all have prejudices and stereotypes in our heads. Not just everybody else. All of us. That includes you. And me. And that's okay. Because unless we acknowledge those stereotypes and prejudices and consciously attempt to handle them, we'll just live them out in our daily lives - and contribute to them. I'll go into more depth on this sometime in the near future (re: ignoring our problems doesn't make them go away), but that's not the point of this post.

No, the point is to return to my previously-mentioned statement: that we all have stereotypes and prejudices. And that includes me.

See? I'm going to start off the honesty-fest here by just acknowledging my problems. At least the ones I'm conscious of. Because it's this consciousness that helps me reduce their effect (if not get rid of them entirely). It's this consciousness that helps me teach kids while minimizing the amount of harm I do them - minimizing how often they feel like an "other" in my room. Ideally - it would never happen. But I'm not naive, nor am I a liar, so I do everything I can to see it when it happens and make sure it never happens again.

The big one - especially in the context of where I live and work - is that kids of color (specifically black and Latino) tend to be more "at-risk" than white kids. "At-risk" of getting involved in gangs. "At-risk" of being affected by poverty, drugs, single-parent homes, etc.

Now, statistics would argue that this is "true." Maybe it is. But if so, it is only "true" on a vague, generalized level, and I do my kids injustice if that's where I come from when I work with them. If I assume that their parents are going to be less involved in their lives, or that education is not as important to them, or that gang affiliation is a likely factor getting in the way of their success. The minute I feed that - in any way - the minute I cause that to be a reality. That's when all my kids start thinking that that is a truth. And that's when justifications start falling down: why it's okay for cops to target kids of color, why kids of color can't get educated, what kind of parents men and women of color are. And that's not okay.

It also affects the white kids negatively. Not just because it enforces their own prejudices, but because it doesn't give them credit. So often I see youth workers in Portland that like to emphasize how "troubled" the kids they work with are. That take a sick sort of pride in how "at-risk" their kids are. And, generally, they emphasize the color of their kids - because we all know that kids of color "need us" so much more, that they are more violent and "hard to reach," etc. Again - I'll address this in another post, but the point is that this hurts the white kids out here that live in the same world. They might have a few more theoretical advantages, but the second I try to start playing the "who needs help more" game, I'm hurting kids. And judging them more or less fit for extra effort. It also deems certain kids less able (kids of color) to help themselves.

And that's bullsh**. However, it pervades our society and the work I do, and I will say flat out that it confronts me, at times. I often feel that - as one of the few people of color (especially males) in my line of work - I need to put in the extra effort to pull up kids of color. And that does everybody an injustice (myself, included).

And that bleeds out into the rest of my life, as well. When I run into a group of Latino or black kids, I am more likely to assume that they are like "my" kids - the kids I work with. Which might as well just play into the white world's fears of poor, gang-afflicted and thuggish kids of color. Which also ignores the fact that the majority of the kids in my school are white - and almost nobody in my school isn't affected by gangs, violence, drugs, etc. My "scariest," most violent kids happen to be white kids. And yet I still fall back on the media stereotypes when walking out in the world - in spite of my personal experiences.

Switching gears, there's my prejudices about white people - namely that they are naive and blind to their own privilege (and ignorance). Sure, I have all sorts of experiences to "justify" those feelings (On Not Trusting White People), but that doesn't change a thing in regards to what it is: a stereotype. A prejudice. I'll say flat out that I'm more likely to give a person of color the benefit of the doubt over a white person. And that's not okay. And - again - people of color in my life don't exactly have the best track record in terms of their own understanding of races or experiences not their own, yet I still act on these stereotypes.

Asian folks? I have to admit that I cringe inside when I buy something from yet another Asian corner-market store owner. I want them to bust up that stereotype because I know it feeds everybody else, and those feelings end up causing me to treat them differently. It borders on self-hate. Not that I hate Asian shopkeepers, but I tend to mentally deal with them as a stereotype - and not as the individuals they are - which is exactly what I get pissed off about other people doing. Sure - I give them the respect that I assume others do not, and I converse with them (going beyond the accent) like I assume others do not - but it's the same way, each time. As if it is not a different person at each shop, but the same person that I switch into "respecting Asian shopkeeper mode" with. And I hate that.

I feel uncomfortable at Chinese restaurants, assuming that the servers and everybody else are hating me and my mixed background. Or I feel that they are denying my "Chinese-ness" every time I end up with a fork. I lump them in with experiences I had in Chinatown with my grandmother - not accounting for variability in behavior and perceptions even though I live in a very different city, and those here have different stories.

I have stereotypes of rural white folks (assuming they want to shoot me) when most of the time, those are the white folks that have been most real with (and subsequently, respectful of) me. I have over-the-top prejudices against "hippies" and "hipsters." I have stereotypes of white youth workers. I assume that obese people are sad, deep down. I expect gay men to have secret crushes on me.

Get the picture? I'm filled with stereotypes and prejudices. And that's a bit scary - because I am so consciously aware of how media representations work on our generalized "social consciousness" - and yet that does not make me immune to any of it.

But this is the key - I search within to find my prejudices, and to expose them. Every time I interact with somebody I mentioned above, I reach out, grab the corresponding stereotype, and do everything in my power to throttle it. On a general level, that usually works. Not always, of course, but I seldom act on those stereotypes when I am so conscious of them.

No - it's the sub-conscious ones that do the damage. Those are the ones that cause real problems - because I am unable to reign them in without being consciously aware of them. And that is why I continue to examine my thoughts and feelings when confronted with any type of person, looking to find another stereotype to smash.

It's also why I get so scared and frustrated when I meet other people who tell me that they "have no prejudices or stereotypes." Because - if they really believe that - then there's just no hope, whatsoever.