Cycle Two: Schooling, Cultural Assimilation, and Social Mobility

Certainly with enough time, motivation, and unlimited word count, I would find myself writing an entire book in response to Richard Rodriguez.  I found myself agreeing on one page, and disagreeing on the next - then questioning many of my own attitudes and beliefs about education - specifically for those students who do not match my own identity (white, male, middle-class - the top of the privileged food chain).  This is something I have continually, consistently, and - to the best of my ability - thoughtfully grappled with since day one of my teacher education.    

In one of my early undergraduate teacher education classes through MSU, we were required to complete a service learning experience at the Refuge Development Center.  After getting off the bus and walking through the busy intersection of Michigan and Pennsylvania, I walked into the large brick building that had been a church in a past life, yet still provided sanctuary for refugees looking for resources and education.  Before working with the students, the group was directed to meet with the supervisor who would be instructing an orientation.  Near the end, she explained that we would be listening to a final presentation and quizzed at the end.  Our success on the quiz would determine our ability to volunteer and attain the credit required by service learning.  She gave the floor over to a different woman who as she opened her mouth, unfamiliar words began to pour out.  She was speaking in a completely different language.  We all began to look at each other, confused and increasingly feeling the stress of the situation creep up.  The speaker began asking questions - only discernible by her non-verbal cues and the inflection of her voice.  "Ni nyekundu hii?" she kept asking while pointing randomly around the room.  Collectively our heart rates increased and the air became thin.  We didn't know the answer to her questions - we didn't even know the questions.  She became agitated with our incompetence.  Her voice began to increase in volume.  "Hii ni nyekundu!" she shouted.  And then it stopped.  "Focus on this feeling you have right now inside of you," she said - in prefect comprehensible English.  This is the life of a refuge - instantly expected to understand a world so unfamiliar, so new, so unforgiving.  As teachers, if we do not take time to understand someone's experience, how can we ever expect them to learn?"  She then began to speak in the unfamiliar language again, but this time it was different.  "Nyekundu," she said and pointed to the red carpet.  "Nyekundu," she repeated and pointed to a red dress.  "Nyekundu," she said and pointed to her red shoes.  Nyekundu meant red.  "Nyekundu?" she asked as she pointed to the red hat worn by the guy three rows ahead of me.  "Yes," we said collectively, "Nyekundu!" 

That experience has been a constant item of reflection whenever I encounter students for whom English is their second language.  Rodriguez in great personal detail, describes his own experience of learning English.  Along with feelings of inadequacy he brings up the perspective of ownership.  His initial struggle with English was not solely caused by his unfamiliarity with it, but because he felt disconnected from it and that it wasn't his to use.  It wasn't until he felt belonging to the public that he opened up and began to accept that new language as part of his identity.  However, in his experience and reflections thereof, I believe he has stratified his concept of language.  He admits that bilingual educators "do not realize that while one suffers a diminished sense of private individuality by becoming assimilated into public society, such assimilation makes possible the achievement of public individuality" (p. 26), yet I question his use of the term public.  Through his other examples and journaling, public becomes synonymous with power - the language of power and opportunity.  Yet I don't believe all experiences operate through this simplified idea.  Rodriguez went to a mostly white school with white classmates where the public language or the language of power was well defined.  Yet, how does his argument change when the population is mostly Hispanic - when they share the same culture and background?  We can still defend the idea that English is the langue of power (nationally), but how can we argue that it is still the public language - that it provides power in that setting?    As a white non-Spanish speaking male, if I was to go and teach in a school like this, I would be the outsider.  Should those students be expected to learn under my English-only teachings?  This certainly seems problematic (even though it happens regularly in schools across the country).  Why would I not be forced to learn the public language of the school?  Wouldn't Spanish provide me with power in that setting or at least cultural and social capital I wouldn't have otherwise? 

This brings back the issue of public individuality.  I will not argue against the fact that there are systems of power in our society that give privilege and discriminate at the same time - In order to play the game,one must understand the rules.  In fact, I fully support making sure kids understand the systems of power that work in and out of their lives and have the tools to navigate through them or change them.  However, Rodriguez uses this idea to help support immediately learning the language of power.  He describes the success he found in learning English and how that contributed to his later success in life, but at every turn of the page he exemplifies the harm that this can cause to one's family or one's own identity.  He comments on his feelings of separation from his family, the strengthening distance between them, and their inadequate relationship.  He describes feelings of betrayal and guilt. He mentions self-conflict with his own identity.  He remembers embarrassment and frustration of his family's inability to help him with homework, a resentment towards their mispronunciations.  True, he was able to achieve a new public identity and was able to navigate through the dominate crowd, but at what cost?  This becomes my focus of question - as teachers how do we help English Language Learning students gain as sense of belonging to a new culture, while also keeping pride and value of their first language/culture?   

References

Rodriguez, R. (1982). Hunger of memory: The education of Richard Rodriguez: An autobiography.
          Boston, MA: D.R. Godine.

Cycle One: The Culture of Childhood

As a kid, I loved camp.  Our church growing up had a camp site on Wixom Lake near Beaverton and I can vividly recall two very different experiences there.  Out on the water, past the point where it goes over your head but where the seaweed just tickles your toes, is a wooden diving platform, sometimes covered in seagull… well you know.  In my late middle school years (so maybe I was 12 or 13) I volunteered to be a counselor and help supervise elementary aged campers.  During swim time, I would run through the shallow sandbar and dive into the water headed for the diving platform.  Once there, it didn't take long for it to be surrounded by 8 and 9 year olds.  Being the youthful adolescent that I was, I remember taking the campers and throwing them off the platform watching them splash into the water.  When they came back up, breaking the water's surface, they were laughing and would energetically swim back to the ladder to repeat the process.  During the summer before my senior year of high school (so I was 17), I organized a camp for economically disadvantage kids (3^rd - 5^th graders) at the same campsite.  When it came time for swimming, my friends, who I had gotten to help volunteer as counselors, rushed through the shallow water and headed right for the diving platform.  My insides unexpectedly began to tighten.  Confused at my body's response, I ignored it and proceeded to watch the campers follow the counselors out to the platform.  My pulse began to quicken.  Alarmed at my physiological state, I took a few deep breaths.  As I was breathing in, I witnessed one of the counselors throw a camper off the platform and into the water.  My breathing stopped.  Automatically I shouted, "Nope!  No throwing anybody off that guys… someone is going to get hurt."  Startled at my response, I explicitly remember questioning what I had just done.  An inner debate began to fester inside my mind.  "But you did the same thing as a counselor and it was awesome," I said to myself.  "I know… but I am responsible this week.  What if one of those kids gets really hurt or what if a parent tries to sue me?"  I argued back.  "Is this what being a parent feels like then?  True responsibility?  This feels awful."  I concluded.  "But wait, you were prepared for this.  You have red-cross certified lifeguards right over there.  You have a medically trained ER doctor right over there."  I questioned.  "I know… but is it worth the risk?"

My camp experiences mirror the dramatic shift that has unmistakably occurred in our society as a whole.  The 1950s parenting style of "be home before dark," compared to "no… you can't go over there honey...  Jamie's mom doesn't buy organic," is striking.  Certainly when labeled with these over generalized examples, the nostalgia for what was certainly plays to a greater audience.  However, I have to question it.  I am not arguing for the rigidly scheduled, creatively constrictive, and overly monitored childhood that is visible today, but do we really want to go back to uninvolved, absent, parents who don’t know where their child is going or what they are doing?  Shouldn't we value a parent who is actively involved in their kid's experiences and helping to guide them through critical thinking and thoughtful reflection?  It also stands to to assess these different styles of parenting by the adults that they produce.  True, this is unfair as this current generation is still in childhood, but did the children of the 1950s turn out that great?   

I agree that there is a case to be made that we do need to pause and step back from the direction that we are moving in.  The overwhelming research presented about the value of free play or even "risky play" helps to justify giving kids more autonomy.  A parallel can be drawn to the classroom - that many times as educators, we just need to get out of the way.  I draw on numerous classroom discussions that my students and I have had about various topics.  More often than not, a classroom discussion is directed by who?  The teacher.  But why?  Yes, we have our desired learning goals and standards to meet, but more often than not, it is because we are afraid that unless we control the conversation, things are going to get out of control.  In my experience, this fear couldn't be more unsubstantiated.  In fact, it is when I give the discussion over to the students that they are able to engage with one another more effectively, are more willing to share, provide deeper insights, and make stronger connections to the content. 

Still, I question how advancing an agenda towards child autonomy is even societally feasible when everyone from the mailman to your waiter has an opinion on how you should be raising your child.  We live in a world that instead of empathizing with the trauma experienced by a mother whose child fell into a gorilla enclosure, we blame her as unfit and demand that CPS take that child away.  Yet, what kid doesn't have an "I was lost in the store" story?  I can easily remember hiding in the circular clothing racks of Target, or looking up from the PlayStation stand and play console at Best Buy and not seeing my mom next to me anymore because she said we were leaving 3 minutes ago. 

Clearly balance is needed and any extreme can have negative impacts on a child's growth and development.  I still struggle to know what that balance looks like, but recognizing that there isn't a simple answer, or that a gray area exists, is helpful when making conscious and reflective-based decisions as a teacher, and possibly someday in the future as a father.

Introductory Post

Hello TE 822ers.  My name is Adam Clements.  Originally I am from Midland, Michigan.  I attended Michigan State University and majored in Elementary Education with teaching specializations in Language Arts and Math.  (Certified: K-5 All Subjects / 6-8 ELA and Math)  After graduating, I completed a few of my master's credits overseas in South Africa on an amazing study abroad experience.  Aside from bungee jumping off the world's highest commercial bungee bridge (216 m), or riding an ostrich, the best part of that experience was being able to learn and work with a 3^rd grade class of about 50 students.  Following that experience, my internship year was at Attwood Elementary in Lansing, Michigan with a fantastic 5^th grade class.  I was then hired by Okemos Public Schools in Michigan and have been teaching 4^th grade for the past three years at Hiawatha Elementary School.

This course marks the more than half way mark in my journey through the MATC program!  I am now focusing on the concentrations requirement coursework and have chosen Socio-Cultural Perspectives in Teaching and Learning.  My goal for this course is to have the opportunity to critically reflect on the relationship between curriculum and culture and the impact they have in the classroom.  For example, how does the expectation of teaching a single curriculum with fidelity effect the many different students with diverse backgrounds, abilities, learning differences, and interests in a classroom?  I fear that a vast majority of curriculum is designed with a specific student in mind which often has damaging and inequitable consequences for many students who are already marginalized outside of our school systems.  How do we better meet the needs of ALL our students and what role can curriculum play in this?   

When I have a moment of free time, or when I am procrastinating grading something I often turn to Netflix!  I love movies and TV shows - I think that some of the best writing can be found in movies and TV - writing that provokes conversations and incites self-reflections.  It is less common now, but every so often you run into someone who says they don't have time for movies or TV - often said in a dismissive tone.  And that is okay… more for me!

When asked to think about one of my favorite TV shows that portrays teaching, perhaps it is the elementary in me - but my mind went to "The Magic School Bus" staring everyone's favorite science teacher… Miss Frizzle.  I have vivid memories of watching the show as a kid and being so engaged in the color and whimsical voice of Lily Tomlin.  What kid didn't wish that Miss Frizzle was their teacher - I mean they went on a fieldtrip every day… and not your basic fieldtrip to the planetarium or the natural history museum, but to the moon or to the Jurassic age!  Even later in my educational carrier when I found myself sitting in high level science courses, small fragments of science concepts that I had learned from that program had been retained and I was able to recall them.  As I reflect on the show through a teaching perspective, Miss Frizzle emulates the standard for quality teaching.   She skillfully provides students with opportunities for discussion, asks purposeful leading questions, guides students to construct their own conclusions, engages her students in lessons (even Arnold always comes around eventually), cultivates a classroom environment that students feel safe to take positive risks, designs hands on experiences, and engages in multiple high-leverage practices like eliciting and interpreting individual students’ thinking, building respectful relationships with students, and coordinating / adjusting instruction during a lesson.

I am looking forward to this course and learning with everyone.  

I included a video I used to introduce myself in a previous class.  Enjoy!