Reflections.

I came into this course as a tabula rasa. I was a nervous blank slate that didn’t know what to expect. I have never received any formal instruction on urban education, nor have I really been immersed in the urban education environment. I suppose that some of my own social and cultural naivety came into play with this very reluctance. I was, however, very excited to learn something new. I am generally always interested in making the unfamiliar… less unfamiliar. I wasn’t sure whether to expect anything different than what I have experienced so far in my other teaching courses; I frankly hadn’t considered how urban education could be any different.

Before this class, I didn’t know if methodology and curriculum were treated any differently than in rural/suburban schools, nor did I know whether or not students behaved any differently. I was anticipating the Hollywood stereotypes of urban education to somehow be proven correct. They weren’t. I was anticipating my car getting broken into after a miserable trek into Newark. It didn’t. I was anticipating my own worst fears coming true. They didn’t. Name any white suburbanite apprehensions- I had them all and they were all proven wrong.

I suppose that in large part, I learned about my own fears and anxieties towards urban education- the "assumptions" and "culture collage" projects helped me grapple with them. I learned how these negativities can not possibly contribute to the teaching field in a positive manner, and how acting upon these inferior impulses cripples me before I can even teach. I learned that there were some different aspects of the urban environment contributing to urban education that you would never really find in suburbia- how you have to roll with the punches at times when the resources aren't provided.

I am no longer scared to teach in Newark; I am no longer scared of being scared. I went into this class thinking I would never want to teach in an urban setting, and by the end of only four weeks I am seriously considering it. These children are students, just like any child anywhere else. They need to be perceived as talented learners with limitless potential, just like any child anywhere else. I need to be the teacher that provides for them, just like I would provide for any other child anywhere else.

The Urban Educator’s Institute was an incredible experience. Interacting with the students, faculty and administration of the schools we visited shed a lot of light on the potential of Newark students. It also proved how worthy teacher collaboration is- it seemed as if in order to make things happen at times, teachers absolutely had to band together to achieve their objectives. This is certainly an ethos I need to solidify in my communicative-professional life. It was truly an invaluable experience in Newark- a place-based educational experience.

The course, although shortened and intensified, was extremely informative. Our professor was extremely real and relatable- she seemed to be a bastion of knowledge and yet completely open to learn from her students. I particularly enjoyed the articles offered, most notably Bulman’s piece and The Annenberg Promise. I found the course material itself to be flexible, because I was able to apply other readings from previous courses into my blogs as well. The readings were identifiable, and I will surely reference them in the future. Incorporating blogs and websites into the mix provided a unique way to approach the material being presented to us. The website was also extremely efficient in provoking collaborative learning. I also found that publishing our work via the Internet allowed us to uniquely synthesize and dig deeper into the material. Honestly, I didn’t have any qualms with this course. I found it extremely rewarding because it was transformational- it allowed me to carry away with me a different mind-set than I had arrived with.

Culture Collage

Top Left: This section of the culture collage deals greatly with one of my two very distinct identities that was developed over the past decade. I played in a band with four of my closest friends from high school; we were able to create, perform and record original music, travel and spread the word of Folly. This personality helped frame the way in which I approach my life; it embodied communication with other tribes and cultures unbeknownst to me; it also acted as the much-needed catharsis and outlet used to rid myself of the general anxieties of young adulthood. At times, I spent every waking and sleeping second with four guys in a van- driving immeasurable distances to play for strangers. Photos here include the Folly members- Arben, Geoff, Anthony, Agim and I- and a shot taken at one of our final shows. They are embedded over a lyrics sheet, CD sticker and postcard from two of our albums we recorded for Triple Crown Records, entitled Insanity Later(a reference to Seinfeld) and Resist Convenience...



Bottom Left: This section is a continuation of the Folly identity, which melts into my teaching identity on the right (middle of the collage, heart of the whole). Included is a photo of us in our 15-passenger Ford Econoline van, where we spent the bulk of our time on the road. Also included is an illustration of my imagination- running from the dinosaur featured in Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure, located off Rt. 10W in southern California. It rests on the fringe of Folly lyrics and Sudoku puzzles- my favorite brain game. In the corner is a flyer from a Folly show in Wichita Falls, Texas- far from home. Did you know that “Don’t mess with Texas” is the slogan used for their anti-littering campaign? I didn’t know that until I went there. To its right is a picture my fiancé cut out of the Star Ledger of a Cambodian veterinarian’s arm bitten off by a crododile; taped to it is a fortune cookie message reading, “This instant is the only time there is.” I feel that these two materials speak well for living a life void of fear. They promote the idea of carpe diem- seize the day. You never know what’s going to happen, right? One day, you could be caring for a sick crocodile- doing your job- and get your arm eaten off. Also, sometimes we tend to harbor so much on the past and the future that we forget about the life going on at the moment. The teaching identity, as previously alluded to rests in the middle of the collage for a reason. I feel that everything going on around the collage was influential in my reasons and commitment to educating. I used George Carlin’s head, taped to a Farside cartoon, because a) George Carlin is my favorite comedian, and a social observer and prophet of exploitation and b) because Farside cartoons foolishly tell it like it is. I feel that teachers should be both humanely silly and savagely provocative; hence the “teacher-animal.” The cheeseburger suggests that I love them, which is true, but it also shows you how impossible it is to find a cheeseburger that looks that tasty...



Bottom Right: This section offers up the alternate identity that contributed to my role as an educator. Contrasting to the transient, nomadic singer in a band is my life back home. A map of New Jersey underpins my family and heritage. It represents solid ground, strong foundations- my past and my future. Photos included in this section are my younger sister Julianne, a little-me swimming with my father, and my fiancé Katie. The members of my family, like the guys in Folly, have helped me learn and grow. I am who I am because they are who they are. Also included are Kramer, George, Elaine and Jerry- from my favorite show, Seinfeld. This “show about nothing” best depicts the way I perceive a life about everything. The face pasted on the “young American” is my face from my William Paterson University ID, which pretty much speaks metaphorically for my insane college experience. The word “faces” is included because a former professor once told me that you could learn everything you need to know about someone just by looking at their face. “Change” is included because I always felt like leaving and returning to home while traveling in the band required me to adapt my life to each surrounding, even if it was to and from the seemingly static “home...”



Top Right: Extending the motif of family in this section are photos of my two older, influential brothers. When I think about how I came to be the way I am, I always refer to this picture taken at High Point State Park of the crazy brother- Patrick- and the normal brother- Peter. I consider myself a little bit of both. My mother and father, at young ages, are situated next to and below their hometowns- Clark and Garfield. They met at Montclair State College, while studying to be teachers. This seems odd now that I study teaching at the school directly responsible for my existence. To the immediate right of the red hiker of the Long Trail decal is my hometown- Wantage, New Jersey. I have a certain pride for Sussex County that even overrides the pride I have for New Jersey itself. I love it “up there.” I would live there for the rest of my life if I had the choice...

Utopian Realism and Anarchism in Education

David Halpin refers to “utopian imagination” as broadening the possibilities of education policy. He attempts to break free from the either-or ideology and envisage the and-also alternative to implementing change while adapting existing structures. I found this idea rather rewarding, for it allowed me to view utopia as something that was not impossible, but rather tangible and existent. The term, which Halpin believes carries a negative connotation due to its seemingly unattainable achievement, can rather be perceived as a rationale applicable to thirst or quest for hope in education. It does not necessarily have to depict a perfect or ideal situation or context that we will strive for and yet never achieve.

I found it particularly rewarding that Halpin writes about Tom Bentley, who is sort of a neo-Ivan Illich. Bentley takes alternative education- the exposure away from school- into consideration, and much like Ferrer and Godwin seeks to provide students the ownership of their minds. In a way, utopian education theory and anarchism are relatable. Anarchism similarly carries a heavily negative connotation according to conservatives and even progressives. Why, however, do we not allow ourselves to at least consider its offerings? Anarchism is a logical belief system that has a large breadth of validity. There is even a certain aesthetic beauty in a society not organized by a coercive state. It sounds like modern conceptions of democracy, doesn't it?

Anarchism perhaps carries the weight of thematically free democracy far more than a hierarchal empire should. We don’t necessarily internalize this, because we were taught otherwise; we rather internalize that our domestic efforts in public education are as much a noble cause as the foreign act of going to war (conflict) with a defenseless nation to instill a puppet government they wish not to support (Vietnam). Noam Chomksy states, “If you quietly accept and go along no matter what your feelings are, ultimately you internalize what you’re saying, because it’s too hard to believe one thing and say another” (Chomsky, 1992). The whole “for God and country American dream” idealism appears crippling, if not useless; it is an alternate utopia that I have grown quite weary of over the years. However, I am guilty for formerly making it familiar and idealistic. Can I step away from this now and scrutinize the dominant paradigm, allowing for ideas like anarchism to be applicable? Can I apply those ideas to social hierarchies such as public education?

A coercive nation yields coercive teaching. It is in the very indoctrination of children that radical education reformists such as Godwin, Illich and Ferrer crafted their work. Anarchism is said to potentially free the minds of the people, provided that reason could be solely possessed above the domination of any ruling class. Halpin points out that Bentley believes that “more and more learning…will have to take place in the contexts where knowledge is actually used and valued, rather than, as is the case mostly now, in recognizable sites of instruction" (Halpin, 1999). Halpin is perhaps making the connection between instructional spaces and dominion. To radical anarchist education reformers, any mass schooling was discouraging and controlling, because the power of the state rested on a submissive population. Public education in America today is only a slight exception to this idea, as best illustrated by Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy who claimed America’s public education system to be “the least bad” attempt to mass-school children (Spring, 1998).

Spanish anarchist Francisco Ferrer recognized that the hierarchical structure of capitalism requires certain types of character traits in individuals to conform to monotony and boredom in an obedient manner. In The Origins and Ideals of the Modern School, Ferrer stated “Children must learn to obey, to believe, and to think according to the prevailing social dogmas. If this were the aim, education cannot be other than such as it is today” (Spring). This implies that it is unrealistic to believe that national schooling would be a means of significantly changing the conditions of the lower classes. Since it was the existing social structure which produced the poor to begin with, poor urban/rural public education stigma matriculates by making the culturally submissive class believe that economic improvement depends completely on the individual effort within the existing structure. Meanwhile, the state covertly exists to protect the interests of the rich middle/upper classes. The utilization of extrinsic motivation and anonymous authority provide that children won’t even know who to rebel against if they decided to do so. Marginalized poor children and special needs children in Urban areas are essentially inept in the stratagem of external (Federal and State) influence on education.

Presently, accountability and standardization raise the bar for students to globally compete, as teachers are forming their lesson plans to fit the demands of forged policy rather than to meet the minds of their students. Critical analysis is giving way to cognitive factuality, and children are simply not applying their feeling and emotions into their research and writing. Similarly, poor children and “needy cultures” that are geographically bound to urban and rural areas desperately need more funding and are clawing at the facility of public education rather than fighting to own their own education. It is a conundrum of sorts- the very puzzle that plagues the efforts of educators- the more you know, the more dominant you are. However, this separation of knowledge is proportional to the amount of power between two opposing forces. Knowledge in this context is anti-utopian; it is actually oppression.

Sources:
*Chomsky, Noam. Anarchy in the U.S.A. Interviewed by Charles M. Young. Rolling Stone. May 28, 1992.
*Halpin, David. Utopian Realism and a New Politics of Education: Developing a Critical Theory without Guarentees. Journal of Education Policy, 14(4), 345-361.
*Spring, Joel. A Primer of Libertarian Education. Black Rose: 1998

Affective Projections vs. Cognitive Babble

Word-play. Mind-speak. Some rambling. Some “academic writing.” Regardless, the words digress heavily into uncharted and unprovoked avenues that will scatter the audience about accordingly. Inherent struggle representative through trying to balance emotional and factual knowledge. Can words be organized to represent some scattered thoughts and still be used academically? Must admit that this is “all over the place.” Unfocusedis what a college professor would offer as a conclusion to the chaos. These bouncing words. I also admit that the mind is “all over the place” with the thoughts, even when engaged within standardized formalities of writing. The mind wanders and wonders, never quite reaching a destination, always bobbing and weaving the jabs, looking for something. All is transitory. Everything is vanity. Not trying to restrain the mind from writing. Not trying to restrain how far this writing goes. Don’t want to know myself by the end of it all. No I. No My. No Me.

Performance + Wordiness + Vague + Incoherent + Unfocused + Playful = My writing.

Performance + Wordiness + Vague + Incoherent + Unfocused + Playful = My life.

Higher academia, eh? Been bombarded again and again with the “progressive” concepts of dynamic curriculum, collaborative learning, social responsibility, facilitating and guiding, Dewey and the gang, philosophical inquiry, classroom innovations of technology, higher-order thinking questions, explicit modeling, positive reinforcement, and on and on and on. And on... All of these measures seem to be advocated as if they are apologies for the “failing” educational system. They are perhaps Edgar Allan Poe’s “Silver Bells.” They are the optimistic future of a system that can change and will change. Must change. They seem to read as reparations for a society gone down the drain through schooling. ‘What a world of merriment their melody foretells!’ A shoddy platform. Change you can believe in. CHANGE. The old-timers, the geezers… they will tell you that if you think the glass is half-full, you can change anything. And on and on… and so forth.

Read as a laundry list, however, these terms can clang and bang and smash and crush. Inalienable rights of reactionary educators that should be not allowed but fixed guarantees. Are they perhaps Poe’s “Iron bells?” Do they provoke change from deep-pitted anger, detachment, and resentment? There is certainly a ‘melancholy menace in their tone.’ They might not actually be the research-paper theses of an optimistic young teacher. Hypocritically quoting iconic dead educationists. The negative reinforcer. Compromise his integrity for his whole life, never complain or question. Grow numb to the consistent subjection of drilled morality. Indifferent to change. Comfort in living life according to a template of black and white, yes or no, this-way-or-that-way. A pawn wielded beyond his power, as an expendable commoner. Usable. Expendable.

IS THERE A WAY FOR BOTH BELLS TO RING AT ONCE?

"Space: The Final Frontier"

I was thinking more today about the effects environments have on education- how space plays a huge role in the psychological and social expansion of a child’s educational parameters. Some typical generalizations bounced about the pate for a moment- the suburban high school I attended, which was situated within the rolling green foothills of northwestern New Jersey, came to mind. I pictured myself walking out of the main entrance to catch the bus, facing a panoramic window of High Point monument, the totem pole of Kittatinny Mountains, on a wall of whimsical farmland pastors. Picture that Irish Spring commercial when the guy cuts the soap... that’s the comfort and ease you felt going to high school in Wantage Township.



Although I took it for granted at the time, growing up and going to school in this setting was an amazing experience. I didn’t really notice it until I went away for college and even later on when I went away to tour with Folly, that I was truly blessed to grow up where I did. The university life seemed loud, chaotic, uncertain, and fast; the tour van was by no means an exception to these characteristics. They both heavily contrasted the quiet and slow-paced era of my childhood and adolescence, where everything seemed secure and limitless. We didn’t have “gun violence” nor did we even have local law enforcement. Does that speak for the ease of our education? I mean, doesn’t that make sense? Perhaps our world was balanced- huge and explorative and yet geographically isolated enough to provide us the psychological confidence we needed to grow… Doesn’t that seem logical- a relaxing environment equals an expansive experience within that environment?

I then tried to step out of my stability and picture what it would be like to apply that same rationale to living in a violent urban environment. I thought of how the routine fear of living your life must make living and learning an inherently routine struggle. Schools in areas take in children from hostile neighborhoods- where crime and poverty are not an option, but rather daily realities- and have to teach these children within that fearful environment. Audre Lorde wrote in The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action, “…we have been socialized to respect fear more than our own needs for language and definition, and while we wait in silence for that final luxury of fearlessness, the weight of that silence will choke us.”

I also considered that urban areas may actually produce populations of intrepidity. Are these areas perhaps fearless? Constant exposure to human depravity may saturate and numb these children. In Culture Jam, Kalle Lasn wrote, “The blunting of our emotions is a self-perpetuating process. The more our psyches are corroded, the more desensitized we become to the corrosive. The more indifferent we become, the more voltage it takes to shock us. On it goes, until our minds become a theatre of the absurd, and we become shockproof” (Lasn 23). Do these children live their lives under an alarming blanket of awkward indifference to their surroundings? Does this contribute to achievement in schools?

I would also contend that a natural setting is a causal agent against literacy. When students allow fear to become so incumbent in their mind-set, they immediately set limitations on what they can read and write. As Lorde offers, the fear chokes them. Before they even begin a task, they may set boundaries on that task out of fear of failure. They’re passive because they are fearful that they won’t achieve- much like how they are numb to the reality that they may not even live to see another day. So they remain silent- but why are they holding it back? For what? For when? In a similar way to how they buy into the projection that they are bound to fail in life, they buy into the fact that they are destined to fail as readers and writers. Perhaps this is why Gary Busey refers us to the acronymic definition of fear: “false evidence appearing real.” If writing and reading assignments play on students’ fears to separate their thought from action, their reading and writing becomes detached- thoughtless, powerless and diseased.

"Coach"

“The truth is, however, that the oppressed are not ‘marginals,’ are not living ‘outside’ society. They have always been ‘inside’ the structure which made them ‘beings for others.’ The solution is not to ‘integrate’ them into the structure of oppression, but to transform that structure so that they can become ‘beings for themselves.’”
- Paolo Freire, from Pedagogy of the Oppressed

I started a new job this past semester, working for the Teacher Education Advocacy Center here on campus. I was hired as a “writing coach,” to tutor provisionally accepted Teacher Ed. Undergrads who had for whatever reason shown weaknesses in their writing (via ‘Portrait of a Teacher’ application essay and writing prompt during an interview). Basically I was granted some authority on whether or not the students I saw were ready for the next step, to become fully accepted into the program. This was a very unfamiliar position, a destablizing irregularity, and an awkward pressure was put on me to “clear” the students whose writing is “ready.”

Inherently troubling this position is the fact that I don’t necessarily agree that writing predicts the value and worth of a student’s intellect. I believe that some students are “good” writers and some are “bad,” according to a rigid assessment, but I wouldn’t be so quick to use those categorizations in any punitive manner. One way or another, there is a genius behind every pen. Also, everyone struggles with their writing and has certain areas that will always need work. I am certainly no exception to this rule, and even though I assumed the position of "coach," I am very much an ongoing student to the writing process (forever). I underpin this rationale in my methodology- every student I see is a genius whether they know it (or show it) or not. I am simply a peer, or a friend even, who can only do what I know how to do in order to help.

At first, I was not convinced that I could have any long-term impact in the brief meetings I had with these students. Instead, I hoped to instill confidence in their writing, and tried my best to thwart an intrinsic drive for these students to repetitively write. Exposure is KEY. I utilized positive reinforcement and praised their writing, regardless of how “bad” it allegedly appeared, and I explicitly modeled my struggles in writing- I actually showed one student a completely red-marked essay I got back from one of my more dilligent English teachers. I made it clear that I certainly could not or would not fix their writing, but I would rather indicate what they could continue to work on. Just like most things in life, writing is a self-serving quest for transformation.

I was nervous of what to expect at first, but I grew accustomed to ways in which I could utilize writing exercises based on the obvious areas of their writing that seemed problematic. I also engaged with them in philosophical questioning on writing style, rituals and approaches to prewriting, as well as ways in which students structure their work. I initialized each of our discussions with “What do you think is wrong with your writing?” (I borrowed that from the TV show Nip/Tuck) I then provided examples of how I feel nothing is ever wrong with writing, how writing should never be graded, and how literacy involves much more than our ability to read and write under pressure. As Freire believed, these students come to me as “beings for others,” and it is somehow my dominion that dictates their future. I loathed the position of decision, and I believed that there was a certain decency in imperfection.

Everyone who came to me was in some way defiant. I understood this and sympathized completely with how they must be feeling. To break this ice, I told them a brief story about how I was placed in a “basic reading” course upon entering college. Here I had been, an avid reader all my life and an argably decent writer, in an 8am class with 15 football players and 10 stoners/drunks, trying my best to accept some humility and turn it into a beneficial situation. The class’s three credits would not even count for graduation, and I was not allowed the decency in knowing why I had been placed in it. What did I do wrong? Was I not able to read well? Was I not as smart as I thought? I was not marginalized, for I belonged to the system and acted within it, and yet I was still heavily discouraged by being categorized so.

When students came to see me they had most-likely been told that something was wrong with their writing, which has noticeably discouraged them. Their mannerisms were anxious; their tone appeared somewhat insolent and standoffish. Basically in their presence I could feel the strange aura in the air: “I would rather be anywhere but here.” I tried to reassure them that whatever was "wrong" was most likely fixable in time. However, I also let them know that if they felt comfortable with their writing, the way they transcribe their thoughts, and wish not to compromise the integrity of their voice, style, methods, etc., they could surely deny me the access to change anything if they wished to do so. I made sure they knew that I am only constructively critical and suggestive, but I am in no way the bastion of writing knowledge I may appear to be in this "coach" position. I gave them the option, something I don’t think they were accustomed to, to heed my advice or challenge it.

So what could I do? Here I was, differing greatly in opinion to the system- the standardized writing assessment and the literate authority figures above me (the ones who inevitably pay me and expect me to play by the rules). I wanted all of these students to pursue teaching, to become an active agent in their own path as an educator… Who was I to stop them? I wish to equate this to teaching in an urban area. The admonished and impoverished children who do not have a finely honed writing strategy and ritual need differentiated instruction and passionate coaches to work at developing their writing. They need teachers to model their own frustrations with writing. These children are fully capable of applying their intellect to the paper, if only they are granted the time and compassion indebted to the task.

I feel as if I have to act within the hierarchies of education, within the corporate frameworks, in order to exploit them. I would have to “creatively maladjust,” as Herbert Kohl puts it, and embody the art of not becoming what other people want me to be and learning, in difficult times, to affirm myself while at the same time remaining caring and compassionate. This concept, set forth by Martin Luther King Jr. adhering to social injustices of race and militarism, refers to the rejection of conforming to a system all while belonging to it. In Kohl’s recollections, the educational system much mimicks the structure of society, especially concerning privilege and racism. Differing from adjusting to a culture, which speaks more so of the harmony between the self and the environment, maladjusting is the ability of self to act within a dynamic and contradictory environment in order to integrate cultures. Students must not be the "beings for others," but must rather thirst for the ownership of their own minds. They must maladjust to the robotic expectations we push upon them, learn to become transformational and critical, and become "beings for themselves."

NJ Abbott Districts STILL oppressed?

While researching Abbott districts in New Jersey, I came across an article published in the Star Ledger this past fall (2007). It was provocative in offering the fine line between opportunities in urban and suburban education that still exist:



So what exactly are Abbott Districts?
(from wikipedia.org):

Abbott Districts are school districts covered by a New Jersey Supreme Court ruling that found that the education provided to urban school children was inadequate and unconstitutional. The Court in Abbott II and in subsequent rulings, ordered the State to assure that these children receive an adequate - and constitutional - education through implementation of a comprehensive set of programs and reforms, including standards-based education supported by parity funding; supplemental programs; preschool education; and school facilities improvements. The Court in Abbott II explicitly limited the Abbott programs and reforms to a class of school districts identified as "poorer urban districts" or "special needs districts." In 1997, these districts became known as "Abbott districts."

The Court identified the specific factors used to designate districts as "Abbott districts." These districts must be those with the lowest socio-economic status, thus assigned to the lowest categories on the New Jersey Department of Education's District Factor Groups (DFG) scale; "evidence of substantive failure of thorough and efficient education;" including "failure to achieve what the DOE considers passing levels of performance on the High School Proficiency Assessment (HSPA);" have a large percentage of disadvantaged students who need "an education beyond the norm;" existence of an "excessive tax [for] municipal services" in the locality where the district is located.

Using these factors, the Court in Abbott II identified 28 districts as Abbott districts. The Court also gave the New Jersey Legislature or the Commissioner of Education the authority to classify additional districts as Abbott districts based on these factors, which would then entitle the children to the Abbott programs and reforms. In 1998, the Legislature classified 3 additional districts, bringing the present total of Abbott districts to 31.

The Star Ledger article shows that even today, needy districts are being ignored while wealthier areas are seeing improvements. Perhaps this suggests that lower-class poor families are still attached to the besmirchment of urbanization a century ago, that poor children are still in need of a basic “cure.” It also demonstrates the innate polarity of public education reform, in that there will always be people either for or opposed to reform measures. In this case, misappropriated funds prove to be a central theme, while many of the debates occurring in board of education meetings around the state attempt to alleviate this. Sciarra believes this is a “cruel irony,” while Malone sees this as a “reward for being good and having good quality schools.”

I happen to believe that the poor families are further oppressed by Malone’s claim, because white males, backed by corporate pressure, predominantly reign supreme within the hierarchy of our political affiliations controlling funding. How can we improve the quality of our needy schools by misaddressing the money so desperately needed to fund it? It is one of those “culture of power” situations where one must step out of their own culture to truly understand and accommodate others. When someone can not step out of their sphere of influence, they can not possibly see the greater picture.

For additional information on Abbott schools in New Jersey, visit HERE

"I Won't Learn From You"

I just finished reading Herbert Kohl’s “I Won’t Learn From You,” an amazing reference that exploits some of the harsh realities troubling public education and offers a way in which proper (and seemingly simple, logical) reform can prevent further displacement of public purpose. His recollections of his vast experiences as an educator cater to those of hope, confidence, and compassion towards all. In this novel, he discusses the ideas of not-learning, hopemongering, and creative maladjustment. These three assumptions each raise particularly complex issues concerning the ability to teach within a democratic society, for all students of all races and cultures, all while maintaining and combating integrity and value of self.



One of Kohl's assumptions that I found most rewarding is the idea of not-learning- the conscious decision not to learn something you are able to learn. The willingness for a student to decide what is important to absorb, coupled with a teacher’s willingness to distinguish that from failing to learn, govern this very principal. Students exist across all cultures, and often find difficulty in judging whether or not socially accepted education is both legitimate and necessary. They might find something being taught to be morally offensive and personally noxious, and may make the conscious decision to disregard the material being presented. It is an obligation of the teacher to inquire as to whether or not this is an act of resentment or indifference, while objectively recognizing the ways in which this act may fortify a student’s culture. As a teacher, one must struggle to maintain identity and integrity, but understand that this is not always tantamount for survival under conditions of oppression. Kohl writes, “Imitating your oppressors and trying to integrate yourself into society might work better. Sometimes survival dictates swallowing one’s pride and giving up self-respect.” (25)

Kohl uses many examples throughout his narrative, most of which are personal memoirs and accounts from his experience of teaching in Harlem. Despite all of the processes that cause failure in both a student and the school in which they attend, he has used his experiences to better understand a passion for teaching, and arguably more so a passion for life. There is one particular story in which Kohl describes the relationship he had with a student named Akmir, a young African-American man belonging to a militant separatist offshoot group of the Nation of Islam. Akmir struggled to learn and maintain his own culture despite a racist and oppressive school system he was required to attend. Kohl, a white Jewish man who had himself witnessed social upheaval due to his creed, had to learn to better accommodate Akmir’s culture, in order to prevent the condescending write-off tone and action Akmir was accustomed to receiving from other teachers.

Akmir was not only practicing not-learning, he was also actively defiant and aggressive with changing the state of the classroom environment to one that needed eradication and a supplanting of an all-encompassing racist structure; he belonged to the “7 percent of African-Americans that believed white man was the devil and needed to be rooted out and destroyed,” and was therefore sent to special schools for discipline problems. While other teachers perceived Akmir’s defiance towards the material they presented, Kohl saw his willing decision to speak out against a racist curriculum as advantageous to his character. Instead of hastily casting him out, he condoned a refusal to abandon self-respect and prevent Akmir from being consumed by hatred and self-hatred. Kohl invited Akmir to classroom sessions, in which others were engaged in Akmir’s projections upon racist language and the way in which he hoped to eradicate it. Kohl spoke of the way in which embracing Akmir’s point of view allowed him to unlearn prior racist language he unknowingly exhibited. The profound experiences and cultures absorbed were a direct result of his ability to stand outside the sphere of power and assume a free inquiry-based objective towards Akmir’s supposed unreachable manner.

Kohl's recollections offer an insight to truly progressive and alternative perceptions on combatting oppressive education. I would reccomend this book to any teacher, or anyone in general, as it is a profound account on the realities and stigmas of public education and ways in which one can mentally challenge them. There are certain ways beyond legislation and broad upheaval that future teachers can engage with to change the system. Distinguishing between failure to learn and willing refusal to learn is just one of the ways we can systematically progress and offer our students unbroken educational opportunity.

Urban Educators Institute '08 (Day Three)

"We produce minds." - Ricardo Pedro, VP of Arts High School, Newark NJ

Today marked the commencement of the Urban Educators Institute, lastly featuring Arts High School- the final stop on a three day tour of Newark public schools. Arts High is a magnet school consisting of roughly 600 students who apply to and audition for acceptance. We were fortunately able to learn a great deal about this visual/performing arts school through a guided tour, student presentations and performances, and student panel/q&a. Much of the faculty and half of the students were on a field trip to a Newark Bears game, awarded to them for their academic achievement and high HSPA proficiency, but the show still went on. It was an enlightening experience to say the least, and the visit to Arts High has already proven to leave a lasting impression on the limitless potential of Newark students.

I arrived after a death-defying hour-and-forty-five minute automotive battle from Sussex to Newark, through the clogged arteries of New Jersey's highways. I got lost for a bit, but navigated my way inevitably to where I needed to go. This detour was not frustrating, but rather inspiring in a way. As I was rummaging through the side-streets of Newark on a gloomy, misty morning- looking for the school- I felt the down-trodden effects of a post-industrial inner city reign about me. The broken buildings leered at me, teased me. I felt unease and hopelessness. I felt guilty and remorseful. Paralyzed. The sights were seemingly grim...



...but the sounds were alive! I turned my radio off and opened my windows to hear the sonic demands of an energetic city- people conversing and laughing, getting started with their day just as I had... fighting the life to come, but with a smile. With an eternal optimism. Newark was alive, and the cloudy sky and torn-apart buildings offered a stark contrast to the vibrancy of life surrounding me. The vacant lots were silent, but the people were as loud as could be. There was life in a dead city.

While entering Arts High School, I couldn't help but wonder if I was in the wrong place. The physical landscape and structure of the school reminded me heavily of a student center on a college campus- a labrynth of stairways and atriums, blending in and out of each other. The building was noticeably old, and offensively bargained that it had seen its fair share of elations and let-downs in its day; the school cried history. We were greeted in the Media Center (tech-savy library) by a performance from four student "guitar majors." These were all students that are enrolled in a classical/jazz guitar course (much like a college student would be enrolled in a course of their liking). They exhibited similar maturity and perserverence as college students, and their performances seemed to foreshadow the geniuses abound in Arts High. These students carried a certain pride of intellect with them that is arguably unheard of in most schools. Needless to say, even by the closure of the introduction, I was heavily impressed.

Nathalie, Mark and I were led around the school by Shaquan Baker- senior class president and "Prom Prince" (although he is too modest to blab about the latter). I quickly learned that his concentration at Arts High was Television Broadcasting, which I could symapthize with because that is what I studied at William Paterson University; oddly enough, he is going to be attending WPU in the Fall. Extremely bright kid, well-spoken and hospitable to his visitors. He kind of reminded me of myself in high school (truth or joke - you decide). Shaquan showed us the dance, choral, and band departments, the auditorium and gymnasium, the broadcasting and film department, wood shop, and the art gallery. The "Eleta J. Caldwell Gallery" was especially rewarding, because it showcased the various contributions and voices abundant in the school population. I was blown away by some of the art pieces. So was Frank Iachetta:



Shaquan explained to us a brief description of his day. Arts High is on a block schedule, meaning that there are four classes a day- 80 minutes each- and a certain rotation exists to balance out all classes. For example, Shaquan would not take "Stage Craft" class everyday, but rather rotate in and out of other required classes. This contributes to the "well-rounded" student that can prioritize and multi-task. He claimed that it was very beneficial for the classes that involve ongoing projects and tactile education, because students could concentrate their efforts for longer, uninterrupted amounts of time.

We were able to meet and interact with a few teachers and students during our guided tour. The highlight, personally, consisted of meeting the symphonic band teacher who showed us their sound-proof practice booths. One of the booths was equipped with a digital surround-sound sonic landscape, where students could mimick playing within the actual accoustics of a concert hall or cathedral. How awesome? We also spoke a little with instrumental music teacher Michele Fiorindo, director of the guitar majors we saw earlier. He keyed us in on some of the projects his guitarists work on, such as working with Kean University music majors to develop a 12-piece guitar ensemble. He couldn't be more excited to give us a business card with a link to such a performance:



We reconvened in the Media Center, where students shared with us some of their well-rounded performance skills. Some students performed poetry and prose, while another sang a beautiful tune. Every student was powerfully good at what they were doing and they left us clinging to our seats for more; I wasn't sure at the time if I was sitting in the library at Arts High or in the audience at the NJPAC. After assertive and influential speeches by Mr. Jason Denard, English teacher, and Vice Principle Ricardo Pedro, a student-headed discussion panel took control of the room. These college-bound seniors shared some of their stories and advice with a crowded room of eager professionals. I recall Tahir, the lone male student on the panel, making a profound remark that the teachers of Arts High "keep history alive." This was alluding to the reputation and respect for the past educators and students of this 75+ year-old school... It employed that the students believed in teachers' loyalty to the idea of Arts High School- that its walls embodied a safe-haven and its community was in deed a large family.



They are doing some amazing things at Arts High School, as well as in the other public schools of Newark. Students admitted to us that their experiences at Arts High were transformational; they had ended up as something completely different than what they previously were before attending. They had grown and they had learned through this growth. This is just one of many fantastic opportunities in Newark, a microcosm of the greater picture. Just as the sounds defeat the sights, the students of Arts High are mongering life out of their education. This high school demonstrates the need to feed off the external community, regardless of the depravity existent, in order to integrate education and society. Simply put- Arts High School is Newark.

Urban Educators Institute '08 (Day One)

"Montclair State University has done so much for the city of Newark..."
- Claude Bey, Principle of University High School, Newark NJ

Today, members of our class visited Maple Avenue Elementary School and University High School in Newark, NJ. We were joined by educators and administrators from various schools of Newark, faculty of Montclair State University, as well as students from the participating schools. Offically labeled the "Urban Educators Institute," our communal goal and task at hand was defining what's RIGHT with urban education. This was the first day of three; tomorrow and Wednesday's visitors will experience the likes of Franklin, McKinley, First Avenue, and Arts High.

Through a slew of presentations and roundtable discussions (and a lot of tasty, free grub), a lot was dissected and addressed- namely the myth-like assumptions created by external anxieties and attitudes toward urban education. These were obviously two exemplary schools of an inner-city area; both schools seemingly exhibited a pride and educational drive atypical to public opinion about urban schools. What I observed were two well-oiled intellectual machines: Maple Avenue School was led by a fierce and compassionate principle and teacher-driven goals for the "Whole Child," while University High School was very much self-sufficient through its own cultural pride and diversity. Walt Kaczka claimed that "the students and teachers are embedded in its culture." Both schools fostered hope and a will for their students to achieve beyond the social limitations of inner-city struggle.

One thing I found particularly interesting was the fact that University High School was a school of choice, meaning that students would essentially belong to schools within schools, or "academies." According to Principle Bey, "Students are looking at high school programs that fit their career goals." In this respect, children are engaging rather early in an intelligence they choose to exploit. One specific example discussed was the construction of a "state of the art courtroom," where children belonging to the Law Academy can recreate the realities of justice in a natural setting. Also, within this specific academy, students work with law firms and attorneys through internships and partnerships to better equip themselves with the rigors of law. Did you know this was happening in Newark? It's amazing.

Today was eye-opening... a rude awakening of sorts. Since Newark, to me, has always been some tangential myth embodying some petty car-thief ideology and fear, both schools provided a well-needed breath of fresh air. I was able to get a first-hand account of the workings of both schools- the positive and progressive measures being taken by faculty and administration to strengthen the minds of their students. The UEI provided that some of the struggles encapsulating these schools were universal and it subsequently furthered my understanding that Newark schools dealt with the same problems suburban and rural schools deal with on a daily basis. Deneen Washington, principle of Maple Avenue School, perhaps illustrated this best when she mentioned that the greatest challenge was "having students believe they can achieve." This is a common goal all schools wrestle with, and should be the greatest challenge we continue to face up to as future educators.

Some images from the day's events:
Walking through the halls of Maple Avenue's K-2 building

"Progressive Writing Wall" literacy project, Maple Avenue School

A tree planted and maintained by Maple Avenue School students

Johanna and I, two of the "Irons." Apparently, according to Monopoly theory, we "love to compete."

Eve, joyously adventuring to University High School! This was the first time I have been in a school bus in about 8 years... It certainly brought back some strange memories.

The roundtable discussion at University High School

Write out your voice!

“I write because I’m scared of writing but I’m more scared of not writing.” - Gloria Anzaluda

Today I was very fortunate to conduct a workshop for roughly 40 9th-graders from University High School, Newark. I focused on the importance and intensity of writing in college, as well as some of the assumptions and expectations of "college-level" writing. I must admit that I did have some general reluctance concerning the group that came to see me. It wasn't necessarily a cultural inferiority I was experiencing, or atleast I don't think it was... I suppose I was just essentially nervous to take on such a large group of high school freshman from Newark. For some reason, I had the predisposition that everything I have seen in Hollywood movies was going to spill over in this meeting. It was SO naive of me to think that I was going to have to break up a gang-related fight or something ridiculous. Luckily, these kids were extremely bright and cooperative- It was an overall pleasure to spend that hour with them discussing theories on transformational writing and writing from uncertainty. I also took under consideration the thematic inquiry into "assumptions" we have been battling with the last few class periods, which really helped me frame objectivity toward this group.

I actually decided to preface the workshop with two writing assignments based on "assumptions." Before I introduced myself, I asked the students to write about me. WHO IS JON TUMMILLO? I provided a picture- my WPU ID from '04- and some helpful questions to consider (such as "What music does Jon listen to?" and "Where is Jon from and where has he been?") Some students tried to size me up without any questions, but others tried to take a few shortcuts by asking me about myself... Throughout the course of their assumption-writing, I returned each question with another question- which seemed to frustrate them greatly. For example, one student asked me what my major was in college, to which I replied "What do you think?" This oddly introduced "Socratic questioning," a topic I would later cover during the workshop. Additionally, to guide some of the students, I provided my 'culture collage' from class. This clued some of them in on some of my obvious experiences, hobbies and interests.



I then had some of the students report back to me what they observed solely based on my appearance. For each correct or semi-correct assumption, I counted on my right hand; for each wrongful assumption I counted on my left hand. For most students, it split evenly between both kinds of assumptions. Pizza WAS one of my favorite foods. Baseball WAS my favorite sport. However, I was NOT into country music, NOT from Passaic County, nor was I that religious. It was made clear to the group that we simply can not assume who someone is based on initial appearance. To reinforce this, I showed this video clip:



This was especially shocking to those students who jotted down that "Jon was soft-spoken and reserved."

I then flipped it around on the students, and told them that I would try to make assumptions about them. To illustrate this, I conducted a writing assignment (thanks to Dr. Khmbrly Howard, who showed my advanced educational psychology class this "ice-breaker") where the students wrote down three statements about themselves- two of which were true and one of which was false. I then went around the room picking volunteers who read each statement about themselves. I would try to weed out the false statement out of the three, which I inevitably failed miserably at doing... It was a great deductive reasoning exercise, and it induced passionate participation among the group as well. It showed them that I could not possibly know them without getting to know them. I commenced both of these exercises by asking some philosophical questions: "How do our assumptions frame our approach to living or lives?" and "What does this have to do with writing?" were just two examples. The discussion was AWESOME. These kids were so intelligent and thoughtful, and so eager to explore these questions- to dig deep into why I was asking them.

I then dove deeper into writing theory and expectations. I drew the line between the robotic and cognitive-driven essay writing they are accustomed to in high school (Dr. Bob Whitney calls this "anti-writing") and the transformational and affective writing done outside school (journal, lyric, poetry, etc.) I still made it clear to them that the formal essay is essential to know and utilize in college. I also indicated that many teachers would expect well-honed revision/grammar skills and structural solidity. However, I asked them "Is formal, standardized essay writing akin to how we actually think and approach life?" Mostly all students agreed that it was not "fun," and it didn't make them excited to engage with their writing assignments. I then assured them that transformational writing, coupled with prior knowledge and experience-recall, could in deed coincide with academic writing. I brought up "blogs" as one of the examples of how teachers in college (void of having to teach for the test) can get their students interested in writing academically while entertaining the cathartic and emotional outlets essential in real writing engagement.

To conclude the session, I provided that uncertainty and inquiry were two essential tools in college writing. I let them know that it is totally OK to NOT know what they were writing about, and to always question and be critical of their writing and their writing subject. To better illustrate this, I referenced the pivotal Socrates quote: "True knowledge consists in knowing that you know nothing." We then discussed theoretical approaches to thinking about writing. It seems as if these students were somewhat relieved to hear from a graduate student that it was OK to not be certain. I explicitly modeled this by talking a little bit about my high school experience compared to the open-ended inquiry of college. Before they left to go back to Newark, we had a quick Q&A about general writing-related topics... Some of the students asked how long my longest paper was thus far... Referring to my ongoing novel that I have been writing, I jokingly replied "I started one in 2001 and I haven't finished it yet." All in all, I feel that today was a complete success- a "teachable moment." These students impressed me beyond explanation. They also greatly assisted in breaking down those naive cultural barriers I sometimes erect between a group completely different than me. The students and I left with the reverberating satisfaction that writing can CHANGE us, and that academic writing can be invigorating if attached to our story.

an ASS out of U and ME

Papa Tummillo sat in his recliner in his Garfield, New Jersey home, visually ensconced in an ailing early-90’s New York Mets team that had recently been swept by a slew of mediocre National League teams. We sat and watched the hard-working Italian drink his White Grenache and verbally abuse the television set. It appeared to us that the TV was an active, living participant in the room, being yelled at in a similar way that one of us would be yelled at for chewing with our mouths full. He was the “crazy,” yelling grandpa, full of passion and love for his family. We feared him but we knew that he loved us all unconditionally. We always respected his ritualistic chant-laden stints in the living room when the Mets were on the tube by keeping our distance.

At that time, Darryl Strawberry was my hero- a lanky, athletic ballplayer that would kick his knee up and effortlessly smash baseballs out of Shea stadium. I idolized how he played the game. He had a certain style and grace that I had never seen anyone else exhibit during my early childhood. I collected all of his baseball cards, had posters of him strewn about the walls of my bedroom… I loved the Mets and I wanted to be “Straw.” My late grandfather was hurling obscenities at the television set just as effortlessly as Darryl was throwing players out at home plate. Whereas I initially thought he was attacking the TV set, and not the little characters playing the game within it, I inevitably found out that his abusive words were directed at my favorite player. What were these words? What did they mean? I was taken back, truly confused… Darryl had been an all-star, and arguably one of the fiercest sluggers in the game.



Papa T asked me why I rooted for a “mulignon.” I didn’t understand at the time that the Italian term meant “eggplant.” Upon my own youthful naivety, and coupled with my geographically isolated existence in a suburban-rural area, I never made the connection to a vegetable resembling a black baseball player. Darryl Strawberry was black, but he was not a vegetable. We were white. Were we cauliflowers? We all loved a team that had many black players and white players on it… I didn’t even know what racism was. I never knew that racism existed in my world. What the hell did this all mean? Needless to say, racism was a part of my family. Sadly, it was a part of my memories as a child.

A few years later, my older brother Pete told me a story about a remark one of his classmates made to him, which finally explained to me what racism really was. Pete had been wearing a “cross-colors” Malcolm X t-shirt, and a brash Sussex County farmhand called him “Kunta Kinte” in front of their teacher and other classmates. Some other local yokels jumped on the ignorance bandwagon, laughing and high-fiving each other. Pete explained to me that the kids who were laughing were just as guilty as the kid who made the snide remark. The teacher didn’t do anything about it either; no detention was given and not even a verbal warning was issued. Realistically, it wasn’t uncommon for a racist remark to be made in Wantage township, for the pockets of conservatism at the time were well in-tact. This was an area that was traditionally “rural,” which had never previously seen such a huge migration of people from the suburban and urban areas of the tri-state area. Inherent in this influx and sprawl was an oppositional tendency to demean any newcomers that were formerly alien to the area. I even heard rumors that the KKK organized meetings in a field nearby my house. Although this was never proven or personally witnessed, I wouldn’t doubt that it happened.

By the time I got to high school, I was somewhat well-learned in distinguishing this uninformed behavior from rational and acceptable behavior. In fact, one of my closest friends on the High Point Wildcats basketball team was a black student that moved to our town from Harlem named Hector Fuentes. He was one of the six black kids that went to our high school (out of around 1,200 students). Luckily, my parents (who both came from racist households) were former archetypal Vietnam War protesting, Woodstock hippies that met in college during the civil rights movement. They embodied racial equality and made damned sure their kids prescribed to it as well. They were also both teachers, and generally had an unbridled respect and appreciation for children born of all ethnicities, religions, and race. Their kids in school were treated like their kids at home, and it wasn’t a surprise that my brother heavily resented his racist peers and that I subsequently followed suit in staying as far as I could from similar kids in my grade. I understood that racist kids in my town were most likely doing what their parents did- following suit as I was- yet in contrast, deploying a most grave and orthodox racist outlook. Papa Tummillo hated Darryl Strawberry, but not because he couldn’t hit… because he had black skin. I would not let that kind of outlook advocate my way of life. To me, Straw was an awesome baseball player. In a matter of two generations, racism subsided through knowledge of equality. It started with my parents, and my brothers and I peered through a different lens than my grandfather had.

Hector told me a lot about Harlem, and we discussed the differences between the inner-city environment and the rural foothills of Northwestern New Jersey. I admired how much he knew about me, and also about how little I knew about him. Although I knew to refrain from racism, I still didn’t know much about inner-city culture. My discussions with Hector were always highly enlightening, because urban areas were so peripherally located in my mind. I knew they existed, but I never really knew what to assume about their characteristics. They were tangential and therefore intangible. Fortunately, on the long bus rides to and from games, I was able to view Hector as a friend and not as some marginal animal from an area I would never dare hang out in. As he brought urban ideology closer to me and made it tangible, I realized how similar we actually were. He was black and I was white, surely; and yet we both loved basketball, mountain dew, and Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy.”

Urban society as portrayed through the lens of television/film and music was previously my only outlet to the “realities” of seemingly exotic places like Harlem. I once figured Hector’s life resembled an Ice Cube video, or perhaps Boys In Da’ Hood. He used to joke with me that I was the “whitest friend” he had, and that I was widely misinformed about life “on the streets.” I assumed everything Hollywood told me about urban youth was Hector. He was “Out of control, loud, disobedient, violent and addicted to drugs… no family values… rejected the dominant social institutions” (Bulman 257). Hector was quick to point out my immature perceptions, because he was everything BUT the aforementioned generalizations. He also made me feel comforted for not knowing any better, because he knew that I never had been to Harlem. I found it really hard to understand anything I never experienced, and I find that to be a common reality I am still struggling with to this day.

This was NOT Hector's life:


Following high school, I attended William Paterson University in Wayne. Upon my first visit there I knew I was in for a “culture-shock.” For the first time in my life, I lived away from the security of home- in a town right up the hill from Paterson. As I skateboarded past a group of black kids on my first day of class, one guy called me “Marty McFly.” I wasn’t mad, though. I kept Hector in mind, for this was something he would have said to me too. I actually laughed out loud and went on with my business. This was a situation similar to how my brother was called a “Kunta Kinte,” but I felt oddly relieved to be the minority for once. Like Hector, I supplanted myself from an environment I was used to. I was removed from my comfort factor, and this instability simultaneously frightened and awakened me. For the first time in my life, I was aware that I was white. As Lisa Delpit claims, I belonged to a “culture of power.” I had never previously had to assimilate into other cultures; in becoming conscious of this, I never knew how to acculturate others into my culture. I had the power and privilege, led anxiously by a lack of experience anywhere else than within myself: “Those with power are frequently least aware of- or least willing to acknowledge- its existence. Those with less power are often aware of its existence” (Delpit 569). This is why Hector knew me, and why I didn’t know him. This is why I laughed at being called “Marty McFly,” and perhaps why I never dared to call a Hector a “mulignon.”

I narrowly escaped the ignorance entrenched in my immediate family and detached area I grew up in. I have learned by doing, and simply by doing, I became unbroken to racism and power-struggles. I am also a product of my experiences; therefore, I carry these experiences with me as a candidate for teaching. In a similar way to how Hector taught me, I feel that teaching will provide me an outlet to foster equality to upcoming generations of culturally naïve students. I have considered teaching to be the extension of some prophetic, existential calling. W.E.B. Dubois, one of the most iconic models for such thought, once stated, “Now is the accepted time, not tomorrow, not some more convenient season. It is today that our best work can be done and not some future day or future year. It is today that we fit ourselves for the greater usefulness of tomorrow. Today is the seed time, now are the hours of work, and tomorrow comes the harvest and the playtime.” My assumptions and experiences have made me consider and reconsider the profession of teaching; they have also brought immediacy to the action of teaching in an inner-city area. In a similar way to how Dubois called for action today, I base my hope and participation in urban education today.

Like I mentioned briefly before, I never knew Harlem because I had never really been there. Also, I never knew the people of Harlem because I had never really met anyone until I met Hector Fuentes. Although I have done my best to prepare myself for the differences and similarities of urban areas and their inhabitants, I will never really know what to expect until I act within and with the areas and inhabitants. I must take what I believe with me, but still be flexible to new understandings of teaching in an urban area. As Martin Haberman offers, “Schooling is living, not preparation for living. And living is a constant messing with the problems that seem to resist solution” (Haberman 5). What if I have the chance to teach the next generation’s Darryl Strawberry? Regardless of any newfound and exotic urban area I come into contact with, I must accept that all children should be guaranteed an education. I should always embrace teaching as an ongoing problem that resists solution.

References:
* Bulman, Robert. “Teachers in the ‘Hood: Hollywood’s Middle-Class Fantasy”
* Delpit, Lisa. “The Silenced Dialogue: Power and Pedagogy in Educating Other People’s Children”
* Haberman, Martin. “The Pedagogy of Poverty Versus Good Teaching”

Journal Review - Urban Education Outside the Classroom

James Baldwin began “A Talk To Teachers” by initiating the paramount awareness that “We are living through a very dangerous time… We are in a revolutionary situation…” Forty-four years later, despite astounding progresses in racial and gender equality, oppositional frustrations currently erode our public education system. It is disturbing to think that although so many progressive education reformers have spent their lives dedicated to a common goal, we are yet to reach a level where all children are granted an equal education. This is no more evident, perhaps, than when considering application of standardized testing and assessment of said tests in urban schools. It's bleak, comrades. BLEAK. Changes obviously must still be made to eliminate the systematic oppression of our youth.

This is in deed a very dangerous time, in this No Child Left Behind era, where children are still being swept to the waysides by teachers under fierce criticism of standardized assessment. As the Bush administration blows the whistle on failure, teachers have perhaps become the brooms of methodical thought-thievery. Expendable pawns and puppets- never allowed enough time to creatively TEACH children anything. Consistent skill through drill? KILL. BULLSHIT. The federal government’s interferences are only masking the access to democratic education for all inner-city students by inhibiting the reach of teachers in order to entertain the demands of the status-quo child. The passive do-gooder. Teachers are unable to provoke children to think critically about their material, so long as the material is designated by curriculum to meet the demands of the Age of Accountability. Children are becoming the robotic byproducts of this methodology and standardized testing.



Pressure. Fear. Youth... This very homogeny is detrimental to the demands of differently-apt children, and this cultural sameness and rigidity of “teaching for the test” and “aiding for the grade” perpetuates beyond school walls. Thus, it can be argued that the intensity and commonality of standardization is crippling student action in their communities as well- the very same pressure and fear is inherently mirrored. In the wake of this sentiment, education researchers are especially focusing standardization and stagnation on its effect on urban communities. In Linda Tolbert and Paul Theobald’s “Finding Their Place in the Community: Urban Education Outside the Classroom,” there is a strong focus on the links between acceptable test scores and opportunity, as well as on the connection of low test scores and Urban struggle.

Although the article provides regurgitated politics of standardized stigmas (similar to what I am doing here), it looks beyond what is being done to broaden what can be done instead. In the case of urban-area schools, Tolbert and Theobald make the argument for “community-oriented curriculum.” This idea extends the rationale of public education beyond school property, and likens an appreciation for community leaders as well as school teachers to contribute to a child’s education. Also referred to as “place-based learning,” two arguments persist: “The first is based on currently ascended views related to how people learn and the variety of ways they can be intelligent. The second is based on an alignment between education and the full range of life experiences congruent with the human condition.” It is a rather simple ideology- the "fictive kinship" that extends beyond immediate families is paralleled here. Children simply learn beyond school, and beyond the immediate parties invested in their education.

Within this article are different accounts of successful place-based methods. One example I found particularly invigorating took place at and outside Jenner School, a public elementary school serving residents of the Cabrini-Green Housing Project on Chicago's north-side (crime-laden, repair-neglected, once housing 15,000 and now housing only 2,000 people). A new school building was set to be constructed, and with that in mind, a talented art teacher set an initiative for his students to create a “memory museum” to commemorate the (soon-to-be) old Jenner School: “The students at that Cabrini-Green school were given a wonderful opportunity to learn about their community, their history, and, most important, what it means to them as individuals.”

Students were given permission to peruse the abandon rooms of the ghost-like school, which had seen declining enrollment throughout the past several decades. Here they uncovered old teaching aids, manipulatives, attendance sheets, maps, and books of all kinds. The attendance sheets were of great interest to the memory museum, for they listed the places of origin for many of the urban students’ families once enrolled there. Students were subsequently able to discover their heritage in ways unbeknownst to them- tracing their lineage provided an educational objective desirable by any teacher across any discipline in any area. The true treasure, however, was finding a letter from Corretta Scott King, thanking a 1968 class that had written to her in sympathy of the death of her husband, MLK. The museum, a place-based objective, was later transferred to the new Jenner School upon completion. It demonstrated that place-based learning strengthens the ties with the community in which a school belongs to. Students, when engaged in the knowledge of the area they belong to, develop inter- and intrapersonal intelligence, as they “work with one another and discover something about the hardships they share living in America’s passed-over urban places.”

Source:
Tolbert, L; Theobald, P. “Finding Their Place in the Community: Urban Education Outside The Classroom.” Childhood Education. 82 (2006): 271-274.

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Annotated Bibliography - Urban Education Essentials:

James, C. “Urban Education: An Approach to Community-Based Education,”
Intercultural Education. 15 (2004): 15-32.

Abstract: This paper discusses a teacher education course – “Urban Education" -- which engaged teacher-candidates in critical reflections on their roles as teachers, their perceptions of the students they teach, and their preconceived ideas of the community in which the students reside. The paper discusses the content and activities of the course, then focuses on the reflections of four teacher-candidates in relation to the course and their experiences teaching in the "inner city" community. Their reflections indicate that the course helped to educate them in the principles and pedagogies of equitable and inclusive education which is responsive to the needs and interests of their students and takes into account the communities in which students live.
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Lankford, H; Loeb, S; Wyckoff, J. “Teacher Sorting and the Plight of Urban Schools: A Descriptive Analysis.” Educational Evaluation and Policy Analysis. 24 (2002): 37-62.

Abstract: This paper uses rich new data on New York State teachers to: determine how much variation in the average attributes of teachers exists across schools, identify schools that have the least-qualified teachers, assess whether the distribution has changed over time, and determine how the distribution of teachers is impacted by attrition and transfer, as well as by the job matches between teachers and schools at the start of careers. Our results show striking differences in the qualifications of teachers across schools. Urban schools, in particular, have lesser-qualified teachers; and New York City stands out among urban areas. Low-income, low-achieving and non-white students, particularly those in urban areas, find themselves in classes with many of the least skilled teachers. Salary variation rarely compensates for the apparent difficulties of teaching in urban settings and, in some cases, contributes to the disparities.
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Shimhara, N. “Polarized Socialization in an Urban High School.” Anthropology &
Education Quarterly. 14 (1983): 109-130.

Absract: Based on ethnographic research, this article analyzes the pattern of polarized socialization at an urban high school. It concentrates on aspects of adolescent experience: the status-stratified residential structure of the community, interaction patterns in the school, peer groups, the sectioning system adopted by the school, and the students' differential access to pedagogical content. Segregated interaction was typical in these dimensions of day-to-day life. The school contributed to perpetuating the structure that the community interposed to separate blacks from whites.
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Oria, A; Cardini, A; Ball, S; Stamou, E; Kolikitha, M; Vetigan, S; Flores-Moreno, C.
“Urban Education, The Middle Classes and Their Dilemmas of School Choice.” Journal of Education Policy. 22 (2007): 91-105.

Abstract: This article explores a framework for an ethics of choice in urban education. It outlines the educational ambitions and ambivalences of a group of middle class families in one locality. The research on which we draw involved interviews with 28 middle class parents in the London Borough of Hackney and is part of a comparative study of urban middle class parents conducted in collaboration with the Foundation Nationale des Sciences Politique, Paris. Our analysis of the tensions and dilemmas faced by this group of parents deploys an approach derived from the work of American philosopher Thomas Nagel. What we see playing across and through these interviews are the interests and abstractions of a particular fraction of metropolitan middle class families. That is, a reflexive engagement with the social in terms of responsibility to the public good and the needs of "others" who matter as much as they do (the impersonal standpoint) is interwoven with the needs of specific children and the family in relation to imagined futures (the personal standpoint).

The Poverty of Pedagogy

This blog is a general observation of substitute teaching, and is not directed at any urban or suburban or rural area specifically. Just a few notes about a day when I decided to "shake" the familiarity of some high school ghosts. I like to write "OMG WE HAVE A SUB" on the board. Perplexity is the name of “the game.”

Just so we clear it up, this is NOT how it went down:


I did not have to recover any "ice picks." I did not have to be the "warrior chief." But my students, geographically isolated by BOREDOM, offer a slight comparison to urban youth (I think). Regardless, they are bored by education.

Stood in front of a history class in RURAL Wantage Township, NJ. A substitute, only partly a teacher. Just standing in for _____. Might as well have been behind that class. No eyes in the back of their heads, though. Only Ipods in their ears. Brains in the back-seats. But they're smart. They get good grades. As Haberman offers, they "succeed without being involved or thoughtful." This is implied, I think, as a gesture of failed system, and not solely due to the failed learners of that system. These students have not failed, and they will carry the empty weight of "success" with them, almost unknowingly, as they have scammed the system. Played the game...

Playing the "game" of education was brought up in class today. It got me thinking about how much writing becomes a method of this game. I revisited imagining school and its prescribed actions as a template for competition. The dictionary simply defines "game" as "a competitive activity involving skill, chance, or endurance on the part of two or more persons who play according to a set of rules, usually for their own amusement or for that of spectators." Does writing adhere to this kind of activity? It instantly reminded me of a Nick Tingle article I recently read concerning writing as a competitive activity. Tingle feels that student writers respond according to three categories: a) the rageful, b) the listless or de-energized, and c) as the anxious. Writing, to these students, does not become an outlet or cathartic and affective experience it is intended to be. It becomes the byproduct of some forced and expected response. Writing merely mimicks their attitude toward learning. Tingle offers that “They have learned the game, or more precisely they have learned that learning is a game.”


This is a very interesting perception of learning, one that regretfully seems innocuous to us. Playing a game includes knowing the strengths and weaknesses of a competitor or the game itself, of an adversary that defies you. The challenger can be considered a counter force or the very person playing the game; in some circumstances it can be both. There are competitive games such as sporting events and board games, where two or more opposing forces battle each other. There are also “brain games” such as puzzles and crosswords, where one force opposes itself. Contrasting the two similarly challenging tasks, brain games bargain the intrinsic motivation to succeed, while a sport challenges the learner to succeed out of fear of inferiority or losing (extrinsic motivation).

To extend the analogous nature of playing and learning, I think that Tingle is making this link obvious to us through writing, just as Haberman is making it obvious to us through urban education. But we already know the game quite well… we are college students, after all. We had to learn it to get this far, right? The very nature of competitiveness is inherent in public education, so much so that learning has become less a “brain game” and more so a sporting event. Just as a basketball player would wish to please the punitive and coercive coach, students similarly submit to the teacher’s wishes. Is this borne solely out of fear of being punished by parents and/or teachers? A basketball coach will “bench” a player if they do not succumb to the expectations of the game. If they turn the ball over or miss an important free-throw, they are reprimanded accordingly. Now, there is always an exception to this; good coaches will reinforce the positive and negative contributions of a player. This helps foster courage in the player, so that the player can attack all the elements of the game regardless of faults and fouls. Good teachers may act in the same manner; students who are not doing well must be praised just as much as the classroom idols that are “achieving,” the ones who will pass through the required filters to get to where they (think they) want to go. Behaviorist BF Skinner denounced these idols, simply because they only accounted for a small population of students in the school.

In a complete analogy, the classroom is the court, grades are statistics, the coach is the teacher, the player is the student, and fouls are detentions. These titles are oppressive measures of limits and boundaries of contemporary education. They are there simply to instill fear within the system, so that acting out of line will result in inevitable failure. Losing a basketball game is akin to failing a class, in that a student’s inability to conform to the regulations of education will result in untimely dismissal from school. If players do everything they are supposed to do, maybe- just maybe- they will succeed. This perpetuates throughout society beyond schooling, as evident in author Kalle Lasn’s take on powerful informational institutions freely wielding their dominant influence on a susceptible public. This omnipresent public void has been internalized throughout time. Lasn writes, “We’ve spent so much time bowed down in deference, we’ve forgotten stand up straight.”

...The other week, I subbed for a history teacher in the high school I attended eight years ago. My friends think this should be “awkward.” I find it comforting. Read through those "sub plans" as I downed my travel mug of coffee. Those plans always seem to demean my abilities. Never really challenging me. Playing it safe. Coercing me to sit at the teacher’s desk without a thing to do other than monitor and observe the “free class” these students will think they have… I was faced with a decision. Should I play the "sub" game or flip this game on its axis? I guess Mr. History was playing it safe when he demanded that his students read the section out of their history text concerning "Watergate." Read and respond to the questions. Silently OR ELSE. Here's a worksheet kids! Get to work! Was he playing the game of teaching while absent? Was I going to aid in this standoffishness?


The flip on the axis seemed more fun. More adventurous. I had Howard Zinn's "People's History of the United States" in my car, so I grabbed it during a break and made some notes on Zinn’s Watergate. When I introduced the assignment and began to bombard students with exotic, “outside the box” questions, they looked at me like I was a madman. What the hell is this substitute doing? Shouldn’t I be exempt from class work if Mr. History isn’t here? I sympathized with their uncertainty. I am only 8 years removed from high school- I probably would have acted in a similar manner. Besides, I kind of am a madman. So be it.



On the board (is it weird that I took a picture of this?), I wrote down some thought-provoking questions. “High-order thinking” questions. I prefaced each class with “I am not a history teacher, I am just a dude.” Break the “ice.” For the entire duration of the day, I would quietly whistle Sam Cook’s “Wonderful World” as I meandered through the hallways. I saw Mr. History a couple days later. He jokingly, I think, asked “What the hell did you do to my kids?” I took it as a compliment.