T.H.U.G. Academy

“Call it how it is… I promise… I swear… mask off… fuck it, MASK OFF”

–          Future

It’s been months (almost a year) since my last real post. I would sound off the reasons why I haven’t been writing (running for office, applying for a PhD, moving in with my partner, etc.), but the reality is that they’re all excuses. In four weeks my work in public education will come to an end. I will finish my career as an educator/Dean and transition to life as a PhD student. While I’ve been known for being blunt and confrontational, I’ve felt like I’ve had a muzzle on trying to protect the “integrity” of my position and my organization. I realize now that I was wrong in holding back. In less than a month I’ll be back with my thoughts on education, culturally responsive teaching, white fragility, local politics (I won that election 😉 ) and more. Stay tuned… For now, I’ll preview some of the things to come with the last REAL thing I wrote: my PhD application personal statement. I hope y’all enjoy it…

A “grill” is a traditionally southern piece of jewelry made by taking a mold of your teeth and filling that mold with a layer of gold that’s worn like a retainer. I have dark curly hair, two pierced ears, thick eyebrows, a round face, visible tattoos, and a gold grill. The American tradition of assimilation and racialization informed my identity since birth. I was the first person on my mom’s side of the family born in this country. Being the first “American” meant I was responsible for my family’s success. “Educate y podrás hacer lo que quieras con tu vida” was my mother’s mantra: “get an education and you can do what you want in life.” I embraced academic challenges but pushed back when academic spaces felt uninviting. I brought a flyer home from school in second grade advertising a new public International Baccalaureate (IB) school opening in a working class black neighborhood next to mine and asked my mom if she would attend the enrollment meeting. I was fortunate enough to gain acceptance to the program but the challenges were looming. “What is your primary language?” I was asked in the first month. “Spanish.” It took my mom three months of arguing with the administration to assure I wasn’t placed in a track for lower performing students. In sixth grade I was publicly removed from a gifted math class because I had not been tested for gifted. The counselors argued that I was being set up to fail. My teacher, Ms. Earle, who knew my mother and was familiar with my living situation found this unacceptable and snuck me into her classroom every day for four months. At the end of the semester, she stormed into the office and demanded that I at least get the opportunity to take the gifted test.

I was given the test, admitted to the program, and took the courses to qualify for the elite high school nearby. Studies show that gifted and talented programs like the one I fought to be a part of tend to be disproportionately comprised of affluent white students. A decade after I graduated from grade school, two economists ran a study on universal screeners for gifted programs and their impact on the representation of low income and minority students in them. Findings showed that when a universal screener is used in lieu of the traditional referral system, there is dramatic increase in the number of disadvantaged students labeled as gifted. I was fortunate to have a teacher who risked her job for me to be in the gifted program; I see now that many friends and family growing up weren’t as lucky. When we leave decisions like these up to chance and human bias, we risk pushing students such as myself out of the streams of opportunity. I want to do research that increases access and agency for disadvantaged people while also exposing the biases and inequalities that often permeate the very systems (like schools) meant to promote equity.

On the first day of AP English Literature, my teacher stopped me as I entered the room and asked to see my schedule. He looked me up and down and said, “I think you’re in the wrong place son.” I looked to my classmates who shared other classes with me and handed him my paper. The underlying message was clear: I didn’t look like I belonged. At the end of the year, I earned the highest possible score on our grade-wide oral presentation. While I did not have the words at the time to describe what happened, I would learn how these “micro-aggressions” shaped my view of the world and defiance toward superficial notions of professionalism, intelligence, and belonging during my time at Brown University. When I was admitted to Brown, the class valedictorian immediately quipped, “Well, he only got in because he’s poor and Latino.” I found it ironic that two parts of my identity I had been encouraged to resent had somehow transformed into valuable currency. The valedictorian’s sentiments were reflected in my first few months at Brown when a classmate approached me saying that she “didn’t expect [me] to be so articulate in class.”

My time at Brown revealed that I was becoming one of few and I made it a point to discern why these spaces were so closed for people who looked like me and came from a similar background. I worked to show gratitude for those, like Ms. Earle, who contributed to my changing life. Part of my gratitude was expressed in my commitment to join Teach for America and serve back home in Miami after I graduated. I felt I would be using the knowledge I acquired in college to improve my living conditions as well as those of my students. As a teacher, I helped them navigate the same system I struggled navigating. After data showed my students achieved the highest levels of mathematics proficiency in the history of the school, a co-worker offered that my success was likely attributed to being male and Latino. I showed up to class wearing Jordans, greeting students in Spanish, exchanging handshakes for fist bumps, and smiling proudly with my grill in. I debriefed the experience with my classes. I explained that it was important for them and me to see me for who I was: a first generation Latino American from a single parent, low income home, driven to ensure that demography is not destiny. That same school year, Jason Richwine’s Harvard dissertation on Latino immigrant IQs was brought to my attention. His study argued that Latino immigrants naturally have a lower IQ than other immigrants and suggested we curtail our immigration policies to let less of them in for fear that their presence would weaken the US labor force and citizenry. Once again, one of the most important parts of my identity was being used to singlehandedly determine access. Was I too Latino for a gifted program? Too Latino for AP English Literature? Too Latino for Brown? Too Latino to drive strong results for students? This is the dangerous logic that can be borne out of research like Richwine’s.

Since leaving Miami, I’ve worked as a Dean in an intentionally diverse school with a college focus. I’ve also pursued avenues for social change through civic engagement. During my campaign kickoff for city council, the Mayor’s Chief of Staff proclaimed, “In the last few years we’ve had a lot of firsts: the first Latino mayor, first Guatemalan congressman, and soon, our first City Councilman with a grill.” Today, my father’s pride beams like the shine of my grill. When people scoff at his thug son, he’s quick to drop knowledge about the Ivy League degrees, political involvement, and community engagement empowering my destiny. For him, the cultural and academic capital I’ve been fortunate enough to acquire has allowed me to transcend superficial notions of worth, American identity, access, and professionalism. Unfortunately, many family members and former students have not been as lucky. We live in the best time in human history. The human race has more access to knowledge than at any other time in the past; it is our responsibility to harness that knowledge for the advancement of our civilization. We must explore systems of inequity that permeate our public and private sectors. We must use that information to inform social policies to address these systems. It is with the expansion of my own education that I will become an active participant with a voice at the table of power. Given all of our human development, we cannot afford to continue segregatory practices that rob the world of the talents of so many students who aren’t as fortunate as I.

“The rich get richer and the poor take less
The American Dream was an American nightmare
You kept my people down and refuse to fight fair
The Klu Klux Klan tried to keep us out
With signs reading and stating “No Blacks Allowed”
With intimidation and segregation, we’re still waiting for our freedom
But now were impatient”

2Pac – Panther Power

Separation and segregation are the the ingredients of alienation and evil.

This week’s shootings of black men and of police officers have led me to contemplate where we are and how we got here. I’ve cried, screamed, argued, and run for hours all the while searching for answers and next steps. In my search I’ve continued to wonder why we are so quick to compromise each other’s humanity and that of our brothers and sisters of other races. We’ve seen these last two days that we all bleed, we all cry, we all feel pain, and unfortunately we all pull triggers. This led me to reflect on segregation and how it has bred and contributed to many of the injustices we are coping with. Below are some of my thoughts…

I remember being in elementary school and driving to a school performance with my mom and some family friends including my boy who was half Jamaican and half Nicaraguan. As we drove through the working class black neighborhood that my school was located in, he looked around and remarked at how “dirty and ghetto ‘these’ people” were. Even in my youth it always stung to hear racist and classist remarks. I snapped like a trap on a mouse and went off on him about how: a. he was perpetuating self hatred (he was a dark skinned young man) and buying into the system that was built to oppress him (in my 10 year old voice and vocabulary of course) and b. he didn’t know anyone who lived in that neighborhood, but I did. They were my friends, my classmates, my teammates, my girlfriends and if he didn’t like them then he didn’t like me and we could end our friendship right then and there. My mom let out a “damnnnnnnnnn” and my boy apologized but I remember sitting there for the remainder of the ride wondering how my friend could have such an ignorant, misguided, and hateful perception of people he didn’t even know. Although we were both boys of color, we lived in a predominantly Latino neighborhood and our ethno-national pride had ingrained in us that we were somehow “better” than “those” people. I had the great fortune of going to an amazing school in this neighborhood and built relationships with people that challenged the stereotypes society and the dominant culture were trying to impress on me. Although I was by no means fully immune to the indoctrination of our upbringing, it was harder for me to see a “them” because it felt like an “us.” After all, when someone in my class fell on the playground, they bled red. When we had a test, we studied and complained together. When it was lunch time, we ate together. When we had school dances, we danced salsa, merengue, bad pop (N’Sync was big at the time), the cha cha slide, and hip hop together. Most importantly, we grew up together.

I remember raising chickens in my backyard when I was a kid. We bought them as chicks at the flea market and raised them as pets. We started with six little ones and cried when an iguana ate two of them. We fortified their coop and kept a close eye on any potential predators. When a classic Miami tropical storm flooded our backyard, we ran out to rescue our chickens who had drowned. I kid you not when I say that my grandmother (not by blood but by upbringing) gave the chickens mouth to mouth (or beak I guess) and CPR to bring them back to life. We used a lamp and hot water to nurse them back to health. Three of the four chickens survived the ordeal and grew to a pretty decent size. A few months after the storm, a neighbor reported our hood backyard coop and we got a letter stating that we had to get rid of the chickens. At this point we had two options: eat them or give them away. Those of you who know me, know that I love chicken wings (it’s my favorite food and I get them at least once a week). Even though I love chicken wings I found myself unable to bear the thought of eating my backyard friends. I had seen them grow, protected them from the elements and nursed them back to health. Our shared experiences had developed a compassion and empathy that was new to my cold carnivorous heart. In the end we were unable to bring ourselves to eat the chickens and ended up giving them away.

I don’t share the story above to dehumanize any racial groups and compare them to animals, but rather to show that we can develop empathy and compassion even across species when we live and grow together. If we can do this with animals we should be able to do it with human beings. The problem, as I see it, stems from the fact that across the country we live in hyper segregated communities where entire groups of people are segregated based on class and race. Even members of the same racial groups (like my friend) can be indoctrinated to look down upon those of a different social class. I’ve had more than one family member try to argue with me about the “lazy” Latinos and how they give “us hardworking” Latinos a bad name. Marxist theory suggests that capitalist systems must always allow for a few members from the bottom to rise to the top in order to put on the appearance of hope and possibility. These folks become convinced that their success is purely a result of their hard work and often times buy into the oppressive system that keeps their brothers and sisters down. The rise of these lucky few also keeps the bottom from revolting and rebelling. I live constantly wondering how my success and my escape from poverty feeds into this notion. I now choose to live in the predominantly Latino neighborhood where I work but many folks of my ethno-national  background don’t have the same agency, the same “choice.”  As such, they’re forced to live in segregated communities and send their children to segregated schools.

One realm of segregation that we supposedly addressed Constitutionally through Brown v Board of Ed is education. Sadly, research shows that school segregation is on the rise and rivals the levels of segregation before 1954. In my first two years teaching, I taught one white student. My school was 99% black and Latino and 99.9% free and reduced lunch. Today, I work at an intentionally diverse charter school that brings students from different socioeconomic and ethno-racial groups together. Our students come from four distinct communities and we try to create an equitable environment that levels the academic playing field. Even so, the surrounding communities have not responded well to our diverse student body. Part of this might be a result of us being a charter school but a more concerning and disgusting part is the racism that elected officials and administrators in these communities exhibit when talking about the students from my particular city. Last year, our Commissioner of Education, Ken Wagner, proposed the idea of having open enrollment for schools across our state.  I’ve heard whispers and second hand accounts about how legislators and district administrators talked behind closed doors about not wanting “those kids” in their schools, not wanting their tax dollars to fund the education of “those kids” and how “those kids needs” are a burden to their kids and too great for them to support. More importantly, I saw first hand a few years back how the surrounding communities (including one much like ours) turned their back on a transfer student simply because of the community she was from (she’s now killing it in high school with high marks and well above grade level in various subjects). Today, the conversation on open enrollment has stalled.

In the smallest state in the Union, I’m blown away but how alienated, cold, racist, and classist we can be. I believe this is rooted in the segregation we experience in our day to day lives. In my experiences talking to people about Central Falls I’m blown away by how ignorant their reactions are to my living here. They always ask “how bad is it?” “how do you deal with all the crime?” and “aren’t there drugs everywhere?” What is more surprising is that most of them have never stepped foot in the city that is located not far from where they live. While the intentionally diverse school I serve in now is a hopeful move in the right direction, it is a cunt hair’s length of the road we must travel to truly desegregate our society and dismantle the alienation we feel and express towards each other in America. Until we live, eat, learn, grow, and suffer together we will continue to be alienated from each other and from our humanity. Hasta la revolucion siempre.

“This for…
Bet they a$$ goin’ watch us…
But now n**** ain’t going stop us…
I just might put the grill in…
This for OT, Opa Locka, Brown Subs, and CC
This for P-Rine, Lil Havana, Wynwood and AP
This for Seminola, Lil Haiti, Liberty City
This for the ‘Ridge for the Saw-wa-sera,
This for Homestead
This for Hialeah…
For the Cubans, my Haitians, my people…
This for everybody reppin’ they hood n****
This here… for the mutha****** CITY!”

-Eskeerdo, For the City

It never ceases to impress me how much better our youth is than we are. The past two weeks have been an emotional whirlwind for me. I was honored by Latino Public Radio as this year’s Community Champion, I received a framed picture of my sister’s Principal’s Honor Roll report card, and I graduated from Brown University’s Master’s Program in Urban Education Policy but the greatest moment of them all was watching the first group of student’s I ever had the privilege of teaching walk across the stage to receive their high school diplomas. I cried twice during the ceremony. One of those times was obvious, my former student Aaron Willis stood up from his wheelchair to walk across the stage for his diploma (there wasn’t a pair of dry eyes in the audience). The second time though was a result of the words spoken by one of the student speakers. In his graduation remarks he proudly proclaimed “let us never forget that our success is Booker T Washington’s success, our success is Wynwood’s success, our success is Little Havana’s success, our success is Overtown’s success, because it doesn’t matter what neighborhood we’re from; our success is everyone’s success!” I was floored by the fact that this 18 year old young man already had the perspective that took me four years of college and one year of teaching to begin to cultivate and internalize. A perspective that many Miamians still have not accepted as fact. An inevitable and necessary realization, not just for our success but, for our SURVIVAL. Years ago Tupac offered that it’s “on us to do what we gotta do, to survive!” These words were true in 1996 and continue to ring true twenty years later.

The Superintendent of Miami Dade County Public Schools attended the graduation ceremony and spoke at length about the trials and tribulations that many of Booker T’s students faced while working towards their diploma. He mentioned Aaron’s battle with paralysis and the fact that he’s gone from a victim of gun violence to a victor in the public education system. While these things are true, I was disappointed by his and others lack of acknowledgement of the ways our school system and our stratified Miami community contributed to many of the living conditions our students face. Let us not forget that Trayvon Martin was on out of school suspension from a Miami Dade County Public School when he was killed by George Zimmerman. Let us not forget that Aaron Willis was two blocks from his middle school when he was shot in that drive by. Let us not forget that, school board member and daughter of the Mayor, Raquel Regalado spoke at a school board meeting to propose the opening of a new school in the same area of the under-subscribed Booker T Washington because our newer affluent Miamians won’t want to send their kids to “that school” with “those conditions” (we know what you meant pendeja). Let us not forget that as we’ve “developed” downtown and other parts of Miami through gentrification, we have displaced hundreds of families and transplanted them to places like Homestead, where we’ve simply replicated their living conditions. Why is it that our politicians and leaders lack that unity perspective that the student speaker already has? Because he and his classmates are better than them and better than all of us.

Coming back from my graduation in Rhode Island (the smallest state in the Union), my step father commented that he was taken aback by how visible discrimination felt in RI. He then moved to offer that Miami is a much better for “us.” I politely stopped him and said “it’s not better, it’s just hidden better… When was the last time you had to drive through or hang out in Liberty City? Overtown? Little Havana? In Miami, many of us are able to stay away from and avoid ‘undesirable’ places and contexts but the people who live there, my students, are not.” The problem, as I see it, is that it keeps us separate, isolated, and alienated from our humanity. The humanity that sees Overtown as US, Liberty City as US, Opa Locka as US, Homestead as US, and all of Miami as US.

Selflessness and conscientiousness were trademarks of the group of students graduating yesterday. Attendees heard the story of Kayla (one of my former students) declare in her finalist interview for a $26,000 scholarship that if the decision came down to her or Aaron, then they should give it to Aaron. My eyes swelled as I saw the pride with which our students spoke about THEIR school, THEIR community, THEIR family. They didn’t bring a deficit mindset to their particular situations or lived experiences. They didn’t allow politicians and “honored” guests to commodify their struggles (although it was clear they tried). They stood proud, resilient, and determined as evidenced by the fact that over 70% of them plan to enroll and attend college or the military in the fall. So to my students, I want you to know that I will always have your back no matter what and its time for me “to watch [y’all] cuz now **** aint goin’ stop [y’all]!” We goin’ do this FOR THE CITY.

“Back in the days when I was young I’m not a kid anymore
But some days I sit and wish I was a kid again
Back in the days when I was young I’m not a kid anymore
But some days I sit and wish I was a kid again
Back in the days”

– Ahmad – Back In The Day 

I was fortunate enough to spend the last week in my hometown; Miami. During my visit, I had the opportunity to visit family and reflect. My mother recently decided to move in with her longtime boyfriend so I was faced with the gargantuan task of looking through all of my old belongings and engage in some early “spring cleaning.” The pictures, letters, poems, and notebooks I found along with my interactions with those close to me allowed me to deeply contemplate how much I’ve grown and changed. During this reflection period I could only wonder what has remained the same. As I went through the last box, I found an early draft of my college entrance essay. It blew my mind how connected my essay was to the work I’m doing now and to the things I value most. Somehow, at 16 I had captured the essence of the worldview that has shaped my life over the last 9 years. I have copied the essay below along with the original grammar errors and diction faux pas:

“I was born in New York, lived in Colombia, and raised mostly in Miami. For a major part of my life I was exposed only to a Colombian/Hispanic culture and point of view. This was all I knew and this is what I believed to be America. From Salsa music, to arepas for breakfast, to going to church on Sundas as a family, this is how I thought every American lived. It wasn’t until my trip last year to the National Youth Leadership Forum that I was formally introduced to the real America; a diverse community filled with different cultures, beliefs, and lifestyles. I learned that it was a blend of all these and how they can work together in somewhat of a harmony that makes up our country and is the ultimate goal of mankind. You see its not fame, fortune, and materialistic things that we are in need of; it’s an understanding of our surroundings, the people around us, and the ability to interact and live in harmony with our fellow man that should be the goal of every human being.

On my trip, I was put in a series of simulations with a diverse group of people, each of which represented a different aspect of American society. From William, the JROTC conservative Anglo American, to Doralicia, the Hispanic from a broken family like mine, I was able to listen and share my views on modern politics, society, religion, and major issues which affect us all, no matter what culture or ethnicity you are from. For example, one hot topic at the time was the war in Iraq. Within the simulation there were supporters of Presidents Bush, anti Bush advocates, Europeans, Americans, Hispanics, and even descendants of people from the Middle East. Our sharing of views, ideas, and possible solutions opened my eyes to the idea of collaborating with one another to create more widely accepted truths or ideas achieved through listening an speaking. This showed me the importance of diversity. When you live or surround yourself by a diverse environment you enable yourself to hear various opinions and beliefs and this in turn gives a better perspective of the world.

Aside from developing my leadership qualities and my ability to work in a group, this trip gave me something rarely acquired in this lifetime: a new perspective of the world around me. I learned to use my diplomatic negotiating skills to work in a diverse environment and come to an amicable solution or conclusion when working with someone who has different ideas than my own. It’s these recently acquired abilities couple with my will to work hard and ambition that I believe make me a good candidate for your learning institution. My ability to work well with others and cooperate with my community along with the education that your school can give me is what I want out of my college experience.”

After my initial shock at the poor writing, I was stunned at how aligned my thinking was with my current mindset and worldview. Today, I work in a Charter Network of schools that are Intentionally Diverse. We value diversity in an age where school segregation levels are rivaling those of the Plessy v. Ferguson days. I hope to make this 16 year old dreamer proud of the work that I do and hopefully make him a better writer in the process!

Below are the links to some guest blogs I’ve written recently:

http://tcf.org/blog/detail/why-i-value-diverse-schools

http://bvprep.blogspot.com/2014/08/reflections-on-ferguson-bvp-and-our.html

*Sorry I was gone for so long. This and more coming soon!*

“You work late nights just to keep on the lights
Mommy got me training wheels so I could keep on my bike
And you would give anything in this world
Michael Jackson leather and a glove, but didn’t give me a curl”

-“Hey Mama” by Kanye West

Latin Prince Syndrome is an idea that a former co-worker and I discussed during a common planning meeting in my first year teaching. My co-worker, Matias Manzano, and I were venting our frustrations about our students’ behaviors and were harping in particular on the behaviors of some of our Latino male students. Our idea was similar to the proverbial “momma’s boy,” but takes into consideration other social and economic factors. We discussed the fact that poverty has a strong influence on how parents, mothers in particular, raise their children and show them affection. In our discussion we determined that the great challenges of poverty lead many mothers to overcompensate for their lack of resources with affection and material gifts. This exercise by low income mothers towards their sons gives many kids a false superiority complex and ego that could be detrimental to their future.

In my contemplation of the issue, I tried to consider the famous “Jordan sneakers” argument before casting judgment. Whenever conservatives or ignorant people discuss poverty, they invariably emphasize the fact that young children and adolescents living in poverty own nice sneakers (usually Jordan’s or Nike’s). They offer that these shoes are symbolic of the corrupted priorities that low income families have and that we shouldn’t provide “those” people with any social welfare programs or assistance. Arguments like this are both misguided and misinformed. They fail to adequately understand the value that these shoes have for children (both in terms of social capital and self-esteem) and the fact that for many parents it is the only material object that they can feasibly afford for their child and bring them (albeit misguided) happiness.

In an old documentary on the life of Allen Iverson, the future basketball Hall-of-Famer described how his family once had their electricity cut off because his mom spent the money on basketball shoes so that he would be adequately prepared for his upcoming tournament. Today, even a conservative critic could see that this was clearly a wise long term investment, with a huge short term risk, that paid off in great dividends as Iverson would go on to make millions in his career as a professional athlete. My point here is not that there is some great value to material objects that poor people see and affluent people don’t, instead I want to underscore that when people find themselves in dire or difficult circumstances their perception of what is valuable is different. As a result, mothers who raise their sons in difficult circumstances do the best to try and shield them from the harsh realities of the world. They create alternative narratives for their circumstances and nurture their children with an abundance of love and compliments. When these forms of affection begin to obscure reality, they become problematic. It’s unfair to tell your child that they are smart or sweet if they are disrespectful to adults and earning failing grades in school. It’s unfair to get your child accustomed to owning a great deal of material possessions if you aren’t showing them how to earn them for themselves in the future. Desperation leads to a blurring of lines that occasionally results in child coddling.

When my own mother and I spent a short time without a place to live, she ingeniously framed our situation as a game. She told me that for one of the first times ever we would be allowed to sleep in the car. “Who wants to be in a cramped up apartment all the time? Let’s sleep in the car for a change and tell stories.” My mom was such a clever and devoted mother that I never thought twice about our arrangement until years later and I thank her to this day for the sacrifices she made for me. While our situation was not ideal, the key to walking away from it in the correct fashion was that we revisted those times in our lives many years later and it helped me understand my life in a different light. I’m glad that we used those circumstances as learning moments and not just as delusions.

The problem in this type of framing arises from mothers and sons who never come to terms with their reality and who create a false perception of it. Mothers raise their Latino boys telling them how great they are and how much they love them. “You’re my prince from heaven. God’s gift to me!” As beautiful as these statements are, they can give young boys a complex of how “great” they are which may develop into egos that become increasingly difficult to control in the classroom and beyond. As sad as it is to say… NO ONE CARES. The world is very much a cold place and while you may be your mother’s “gift from god” you are just another Latino man to everyone else. The young boys grow up to become young men who feel entitled or special in a world that does not recognize this false sense of self-worth. Furthermore, the sad truth is that in American society, this particular ethnic and socio-economic background places you much closer to the realm of peasant than it does to prince. Giving kids a frame that shows them as special to us, but still holds them to high expectations is a much more constructive way of approaching circumstances such as the ones faced by so many of our low income families across the country.

*This post is a glimpse of a theory I hope to expand on later in life when I have done more research on the topic. For now, it is a preliminary collection of my thoughts and observations on the issue.*

“Adam lives in theory
Trying to turn stone into bread
Masquerading like he’s got it figured out
Cut off from the sunshine, only smart in his own head
Leaving his descendants to hope and doubt”

-Lauryn Hill

One of the many benefits of being a teacher is the opportunity to study human behavior. As a teacher I am both an actor and an observer. It never ceases to astound me how much you can learn about people just from simply watching them. Like many teachers in low income urban settings, behavior and classroom management were at the forefront of my priorities in my first two years. In my first year, I spent hours trying to think of ingenious was to motivate, inspire, and engage students. While I was occasionally successful, I lived in perpetual frustration as a result of many of my students behaviors. I tried to avoid the predominant dichotomy of teacher perspectives on the matter; one side has the mindset that all student actions and outcomes are a result of teacher behaviors/actions while the other holds a renounced perspective towards any significant effect that teachers can have on troubled students. I personally believe that the reality exists somewhere in between these two sides; teachers definitely shape the expectations, rapport, and behaviors in their classroom but there are also many things in our children’s lives that are beyond our control.

I spent months exasperated and brainstorming a scenario where all people, and in particular middle school kids, behaved. I expanded my thought process to all people because I had already seen a few cases where the parents behaved as bad, or in some cases worse, than some of their children. As I contemplated why or when people behave it dawned on me that there is one place where EVERYONE, adults, children, and seniors all behave; church (most of my kids belonged to some sort of Christian denomination but I believe that my theory extends across religions to all places of worship including, but not limited to , mosques and temples). It astounds me that at places of worship there is a strong sense of community that reinforces the norms and expectations there. Everyone is made aware of the conventions accepted in religious settings and if they are not then they are quickly socialized and adapted to them. If someone speaks out of turn or disrupts a service, the entire congregation typically exerts some sort of social pressure in order for that behavior to be corrected. Disruption is never tolerated and attentiveness is always expected. While I agree that lessons at school should be engaging and have elements of participation, I find it interesting that many religious ceremonies/practices are not and we somehow find that okay. In my experience, I have seen parents who blame the school or a teacher for their child’s behavior. Meanwhile, almost all parents are embarrassed when their child acts up in church regardless of the context that led up to their actions. They don’t blame the monotone or boring sermon when their child acts up. Instead, they usually offer some sort of firm correction and expect that their child will acquiesce.

In education, middle school is considered the dark age of child development. Children are hormonal and going through many complex changes physically, mentally, and emotionally. While this serves to explain many behaviors that we begin to see from them as they progress through middle school and adolescence, it’s interesting to me that these same children generally tend to continue to behave in church. It would appear that we either 1. Continue to be invested in the potential outcomes of religious adherence and become disinvested in education and its potential outcomes or 2. We no longer feel invested in either but feel pressured to continue to respect one and not the other. If the first of these is to blame, then we must look to our teachers to make their lessons more engaging and be sure to draw a connection between their content and their kids so that we are all invested in learning. If it is the latter, then we must raise awareness of the importance and prestige that education deserves. In reality, I believe that it is a mix of these two points.

In my consideration of how people behave in church, I began to wonder why it is that they comport themselves properly and the underlying reasons driving these behaviors. In my opinion, religion has two main draws to it that are in some cases coexistent and in others independent; the first is that we are promised some type of reward (material or spiritual in the present and/or future) for our adherence to it and the second is that we fear repercussions as a result of our noncompliance. Because of one of these or both, many of us are compelled to respect religion and its places of worship. We look to god and its various derivations as a way of being granted positive outcomes or blessings. Meanwhile, we frequently overlook or dismiss the avenues that would provide us the means of attaining many of the very things we pray for. When I asked my kids what they asked of god, many of them mentioned material goods or various aspects of a high quality of life. It perplexed me that many of these same students dismissed school and didn’t think of college or a professional career as a means of acquiring their dreams/wishes/prayers. It is our responsibility to show young learners that knowledge acquisition is just as important and useful in their day to day lives as spiritual growth.

If we as a society were as invested in education as we are in religion then we would ameliorate many of its flaws. This type of prioritization is exactly what our system needs if we hope to see it improved for the betterment of our children. We are willing to go to war for religion but uneasy to enact educational reform for fear that it might offend people or it may be too difficult for our children. I don’t want to undermine the value of religion but rather recognize that even at the global level we invest an incredible amount of time, respect, and resources into it that we rarely prioritize for education (which one could argue is more universal or intrinsically compatible in a globalized world; at least the United Nations thinks so as evidenced by its inclusion into the universal declaration of human rights…).

“People say I changed
And I tell them that I’m glad, cause I don’t wanna stay the same
Cause I used to be poor, I used to be unconfident
I used to hate these haters, now it’s just the opposite
Not only have I changed, I’m becoming something better
And revenge is for the weak, so I have settled my vendettas”

-Childish Gambino

I recently finished reading “A Hope in the Unseen,” by Ron Suskind and was left feeling quite a mix of thoughts and emotions. The book tells the story of an inner city Black youth, Cedric Jennings, who against all odds rises to attend an Ivy League university. The story of this young man’s success touched me on an intellectual and personal level. Looking back to the plethora of emotions that I felt while reading the book there were two main issues that were interwoven in this story and that constantly stood out to me. The first was what I like to call “ghetto voyeurism” and the second was the underlying theme of community that helped and followed Cedric on his path to success.

Most non-fiction pieces on the lives of inner city people of color tend to draw similar feelings from their readers. They evoke a sense of empathy and hope that pushes us to connect with the subject. “A Hope in the Unseen” follows this trend and gets the reader deeply invested in Cedric Jennings’s trials and tribulations. The absent, imprisoned father, the hard-working but financially unstable mother, the violence surrounding his neighborhood, and the lackluster high school that Cedric attends are all part of the stereotypical narrative attributed to urban life. The book in many ways feeds the reader’s imagination regarding these stereotypes and promotes notions aligned to the “culture of poverty” argument first articulated by the US government’s Moynihan Report.

While I wholeheartedly agree that this inspirational story is one worth bringing to light, I worry that if it is not framed properly then the reader might misinterpret parts of urban life. From reading the book it would seem that the only positive part of Cedric’s life outside of his and his mother’s work ethic is the church (albeit in a limited sense given the corruption the writer occasionally mentions like the preacher driving a Rolls Royce). Because of the perspectives evident in the book, I see its existence as both a gift and a curse. The narrative shows us what we already know about poor urban life but refuses to acknowledge it our day-to-day lives. It is much easier to ignore poverty as a problem when we don’t have to see or read about it. This book brings the cotidian life of inner-city poor people to light in ways that aim to inspire hope even in the darkest situations.

In the book’s Afterword and Author’s Note the writer attempts to describe his relationship with Cedric and their professional agreement leading to the publication of his story. He establishes his work ethic in journalistic integrity and objectivity. Suskind offers that he spent between 3-4 years following Cedric and writing his story. When I read this I was taken aback by the fact that this journalist had simply watched Cedric’s life develop as a bystander. It seems almost morally reprehensible that the writer, having just won a Pulitzer prize for his articles on Cedric, would stand by and simply watch as this young man and his mother were going through eviction proceedings. Maybe I have a poor understanding of objectivity in journalism but I personally would throw it out the window for my conscious’s sake. Following his declaration of journalistic professionalism the author then attempts to grapple with America’s elephant in the room: race. He tries to dismantle any challenges to his racial voyeurism by offering that after writing the newspaper articles and book he was contacted by various professionals and journalists who assumed he was Black or asked about his race because he had done such a good job “capturing the Black experience.” While I applaud this writer’s attempt at addressing the issue, his anecdotes are akin to those made by Whites who say “I can say the n-word because I have a ton of black friends” or “I can say the n-word because I grew up saying it and my friends don’t get offended.” Nice try Suskind…

An obvious but overlooked facet of Cedric’s success was the informal and formal community that contributed to his achievements. As a teacher I have consistently argued that the key to education lies in embracing its reform as a community and societal investment/effort. While Suskind does a phenomenal job at exposing the vast number of structural and social hurdles that Cedric faced, he frequently underplays the value of the community that nurtured him. Cedric himself appears to have portrayed much of his journey as an isolated David and Goliath story. Even in the end, most of his success is attributed to Cedric’s herculean effort and his mother’s tremendous sacrifice. While I don’t want to underplay the importance of these, I feel like the story was in some ways crafted to fit the Anglo/Protestant idea of grabbing one’s bootstraps and pulling oneself up. Portraying Cedric’s accomplishments as self-created makes for a more compelling story but obscures the community inherent in any individuals, especially those from the inner city’s, success.

In reality, Cedric’s achievements were very much tied to the larger formal and informal community he was part of. The church that he and his mother attended was a place where many of his  efforts and triumphs were nurtured and celebrated. At school, Cedric had two teachers who stood by him for years and constantly pushed him academically, spiritually, and socially. There was the technology teacher who allowed Cedric extra time on the computer to work ahead and the science teacher who would quote scripture and try to constantly motivate him. Even in the school where he was treated as an outsider, Cedric had a handful of friends who supported his success and even checked him when he tried being a “bad boy.” Outside of D.C., Cedric benefited from his wealthy, Massachusetts benefactor throughout his time in college. At Brown, Cedric struggled greatly his first year but found professors and writing advisers who tried to support him.

I point all these things out because the book motivated me to think back on my own academic journey and consider how I’ve gotten to where I am. The day I graduated from Brown my mom boldly stood up at the dinner table and exclaimed that she and I made it alone. While I don’t think that she meant her comment in an arrogant way, her excitement clearly had gotten the best of her. My success would have been impossible without Mrs. Earle risking her job to sneak me in her class. When we couldn’t afford after-school care, our family friend Cristy always took care of me and fed me without ever charging us. I would have known little about survival and manhood without the crazy hard-ass Scoutmaster who treated me like his surrogate son. I would have never won a cross country or track race without the coach who would drive me home when I didn’t have a ride and offered to buy me running shoes when my mom couldn’t afford a pair. At Brown, I was pushed by many of my professors, in particular my professors of color, to be the best student I could be and to be a symbol for what students of color were capable of doing. My success is entirely due to the community that helped nurture and inspire me. It is for this reason that I am so deeply invested in education and social revolution. Once we realize that we owe it to ourselves to view education as a community endeavor, then we can truly have an impact on the world.

All in all I want to say that I truly enjoyed reading “A Hope in the Unseen.” I shed tears at various parts of the story and have even convinced my mom to give it a read. I appreciate Mr. Suskind’s work and hope for the day that there are many more Cedrics and Jonathons in the world. Until then we must wait for the “community” to wake up from its idle state…

It’s the mystery of Inequity…
Said it’s the misery of Inequity…
Said it’s the history of Inequity…
When it all…
All falls down…
Telling you all…
It all falls down

– Mystery of Inequity, Lauryn Hill

“Mr! It’s not my fault that kid’s parents can’t afford to buy him nice clothes and sneakers.”

This quote is taken from a student of mine who felt threatened by my questions on materialism. It struck me as odd because I grew up on the other side of this coin and this was the first time I saw how offended a person, even a child, could be when questioned about their privilege. The school I teach at now is similar to the ones I attended growing up in that we have a diverse population both in terms of class and race. I recently asked an education scholar about how we could promote diversity in public schools and he summed up his answer in three words: high performing schools. One fear tied to this that goes widely ignored is how this “diversity” can lead to schools that no longer serve the populations they were created to serve. This has happened at my high school Alma Matter, Coral Reef Senior High, where the student population has shifted so that the number of Black students is disproportionately low considering that the school is located in a historically Black working class neighborhood. While academic development and performance is paramount, it seems that as educators and policy makers we often seem to ignore social development. As both a student and a teacher in diverse schools I find that we were and continue to be ill prepared to discuss these issues among ourselves or with our students.

As a student, I struggled for years to confront and diffuse the resentment I held against myself, my family, my peers, and society. I spent years walking around with a large chip on my shoulder (really it was more like the Tostitos Party Pack), because of what I perceived as a bad hand of cards. It is difficult for a child to understand why kids have things that you don’t. Why they live in houses with their own room while you sleep on the floor in the same room as your mom. Why they go shopping every month while you wait for your parents income tax check like it’s a ghetto Christmas.Why they had, what I conceived at the time to be, a better life even though I felt that I was a better person. Although these things are all superficial and materialistic, these are real thoughts that real kids in diverse populations are bound to have everyday. When kids are surrounded by sameness they do not conceptualize differences in the same way that kids in diverse environments do. They do not develop inferiority complexes as they are forced to see the spectrum of what exists and what they don’t have. I’ve been to and taught at schools that have a homogenous environment and what I found was that these kids were sheltered from many notions of “difference.” In these places, most kids dressed the same, lived in similar situations, and therefore perceived their reality as “normal.” The issues in these environments are even more problematic as these children develop one dimensional perceptions of a world that is much greater and more complex than they are led to believe. When placed in an environment that has a diverse population, we have the opportunity to either address these issues properly (which rarely happens) or create a situation where resentment, like mine, is both fermented and typically dismissed.

As a teenager I came to the realization that many of my feelings were unfounded and immature. In an attempt to begin to address them I reached out to school counselors and to my own family. Overwhelmingly we face questions about privilege and lack thereof in the same ways; we tell kids who’ve got it that they deserve it because their parents worked hard for them to enjoy it and we tell kids who lack it that if they work hard enough they may one day experience it. The problem with these responses is what they imply. The first suggests that kids won some kind of privilege/parent lottery and that those children who don’t enjoy it have “bad” parents. It also fails to help kids develop any sense of empathy for those less fortunate. The response to low income kids is even more problematic in that it makes them seem like victims of their parents preconceived mistakes and only gives them a chance at success rather than a promise of it. This line of thinking obscures the complexities that low income parents and families must face in their day to day lives and equates being low income with not having worked hard enough. The general response to the aforementioned frustrations are that getting an education will eventually serve as the ultimate equalizer for kids like my students and I. This is easy to say but much more difficult to live. Too often we tell the poor to be hopeful and the rich to be grateful. My frustrations with these is that they are band aids against critically engaging these issues in any meaningful way and trying to discern how we systemically contribute to and inherit both privilege and oppression.

With the above being the typical institutional/societal responses to differences in class, the typical family response is equally troubling. Overwhelmingly, engaging these topics with my family was both daunting and frustrating. From my parents’ perspective I was very much a “desagradecido” (ungrateful) in that my situation could be classified as consisting mostly of relative disadvantage while their upbringing entailed facets of true third world abject poverty. Instead of tackling my frustrations head on, my mother tried to use religion, tough talk, and hope as distractors for my real issues. Frankly, I don’t blame my parents or family for their inability to discuss these things meaningfully as it is difficult enough to live a situation, much more so to try to rationalize it to a kid stuck between worlds.

Conservatives frequently argue that one of the shortcomings of putting high performing minority students in affluent primary schools and colleges is that the culture shock is too great for  them to handle. In many ways I agree; but I don’t think that the shock can’t and shouldn’t be overcome. Instead of looking to avoid these troubles like critics of affirmative action do, we should be looking for ways to develop and nourish discussions on these issues so that we can work through them as a society.  In fact, I believe that it was my maturity and growth in these settings over time that allowed me to come to terms with who I was and where I started. While it was not easy, the gamut of my experiences and exposures contributed greatly towards my development as both a person and a teacher. Eventually, after much reflection and dialogue, I came to view my hardships as badges of honor and symbols of character rather than impediments to my success.

As my students get older I hope that they are able to go through a similar growth process as my own. I am frustrated by the fact that I must say “hope” rather than “know.” Barring a few people who pushed my thinking and challenged my notions of equality and resentment in critical ways, most people I encountered shy’d from having discussions about inequity. After all, since school is supposed to be “the ultimate equalizer,” why do we need to talk about class and poverty? Until we can engage kids on these issues at the emotional and psychological level as parents, teachers, administrators, and friends we will continue to promote a system that intrinsically perpetuates deep feelings of inferiority in its poor kids and notions of superiority in its affluent ones.

“It takes a village to raise a child.”

This African proverb that so many of us know is indicative of the attitude that we must adopt if we want to have any chance at revitalizing and strengthening our education system in America. During my early months teaching, “teamwork makes the dream work” became the unofficial slogan of my classroom that I would/continue to recite on a daily basis. At first my kids were unsure of why this was so important but over time they came to realize that it was symbolic of something greater for me; Community. Community building is at the root of what education is about. In America, schools are the sites where young children are supposed to learn how to be good citizens. Schools are the place where we learn about ourselves, others, our country, and our world. If we truly embrace the idea that we as people are all connected to a greater community held together by our intrinsic shared humanity, then we can learn to truly work together to tackle some of our worlds greatest problems including educating our youth.

Recently, my school held its semesterly “parent teacher conference week” which allowed for parents to come in and speak one on one with their child’s teachers. Teachers were required to be in the building between 10-12 hours for 3 days in order to accommodate all the parents and, while it was extremely tiring, the opportunity to engage parents was truly worth it. Our school switched to standard based grading this year and, while it is very progressive, we have had some difficulties implementing and rolling out our new grading system. Conference week allowed for us to dive deep along with parents into each of our kids grades and, in particular, explore their individual strengths and weaknesses within each subject.

On the first day of conferences, the last slot in my schedule was filled by a particularly difficult scholar’s mother. I was immediately excited to see his mother’s name because I had trouble establishing contact with her all semester.  The child in question had been struggling both socially and academically all year so I felt that this meeting would be a great opportunity to develop a plan with his mother in order for him to be successful in the future. Our conference went through three stages which I’ve experienced in conferences before, but never at such a profound and distinguished level. The stages as I see them are 1. Resentment/Anger, 2. Understanding/Ownership, and 3. Teamwork Development.

I should mention that the child’s parent only spoke Spanish and so I did all the talking on behalf of the group of teachers present in the room.When the mom first came in, she entered in a state of frustration and deference. She argued that her son’s academic shortcomings were his teachers fault and that we should have been more proactive in contacting/informing her of his progress, or lack thereof, in our courses. She mentioned that in 5th and 6th grade her son was an A student and that she had been shocked to find his averages in the 30’s and 40’s. Accordingly, her interpretation of his declining performance was that it was clearly an indicator of our weaknesses in developing her son’s abilities.

After a few minutes of her all out attack on his teachers, the mother gave me an opportunity to respond and clear up some misconceptions. Firstly, we had been attempting to contact her all year to no avail. When I was able to contact someone, it was the child’s father who she said was not currently playing an active role in his life. I informed the mom that it was her son who was partly responsible for me developing my Brotherhood Club for 7th and 8th grade boys struggling with behavior issues and that he was one of the members who attended the meetings most often. I told her about how in the fall, when the weather was agreeable, I would spend my Friday afternoons playing basketball with him and other kids in the local park. I explained that our teachers offered tutoring sessions during lunch and on Tuesdays after school. I tried to get the mother to understand that we were on the same team and that all we really wanted was for her son to be successful.

After diving into a bit of her current situation and our failed efforts, the mother entered the second stage of our conference which was a recognition of her role in her child’s education. The mother broke into tears as she described the last year of her life. She offered that she recognized things she could be doing better to ensure her son did well in school. She admitted that family and economic troubles over the past year had hindered her ability to be more vigilant with her son and that the truth was the she was partly, if not completely, responsible for many of her son’s difficulties. It was this moment that allowed the conference to transition into its last phase: our communal understanding of our roles.

I explained to the mother that there was no individual actor responsible for her son’s, or any child’s, problems in school. Instead of looking for where to place blame, I offered that we should look for opportunities to work together. We discussed contacting each other more often and keeping a more diligent eye on the boy. The mother gave us her updated contact information and every single teacher gave her their phone number. We agreed to keep in touch and to update her on a weekly basis regarding her son’s progress. We discussed activities and clubs that her son could join so that he was kept busy after school. The mother, initially having walked into the room with 5 perceived enemies, now left the room with 5 new allies in her son’s academic journey. I would like to think that this mother left school that day feeling like a lot of the weight she felt she was carrying on her own was now spread out among a larger group of people. I would hope that she felt supported and that her son was cared for.

This story is indicative to me of a larger conversation and perception that our society should be having about education. We need to start seeing this work as our communal societal effort. Parents, teachers, administrators, teachers unions, politicians, and the general citizenry need to stop bickering over “whose fault” it is that kids are struggling and instead channel that energy into crafting innovative collaborative solutions and strategies to help them. The topic should shift from a blame game to a shame game that we have devolved to finger pointing rather than problem solving. There is no “their kids” and “our kids” because ALL the kids are “our kids.”  In a recent lecture at Brown University on race and education, Pedro Noguera offered that given their general lack of interest and investment in Black and Brown children, “old white people should be AFRAID” of the future given our current educational landscape. After all, it is this generation of kids who will grow up and contribute to that generation’s social security and medical benefits. It is in their, and all of our, best interests to work towards educating our kids and to do so in a collective and communal way.