"In normalizing communities, identity is typically constructed in rigidly oppositional ways, with one pole of identity privileged and viewed as 'normal' and the other pole viewed as deficient and 'abnormal.'" (P. 245)
I feel like this statement gets to the heart of the what we have been discussing throughout this course. I also truly believe that we are incrementally starting to move away from being a society that holds onto this "rigidly oppositional" way of looking at difference vs. normalcy. As future teachers, I think it is of the utmost importance for us to work towards continuing to unlearn the idea that what Carlson refers to as the "normalized culture" is somehow the right culture and that cultures that don't fit into that scheme represent an abnormality to be marginalized.
"For the most part the institutions that make up the gay community are not open to adolescents, so that most gay youth continue to stay unattached and even unaware of this potential community of support." (P. 246)
When I attended high school in the mid to late '80s, there were no openly gay students in my very white, very middle class school of over 600 kids. Statistically speaking, I find it very hard to believe that there were no gay students in my high school. Having gone through that school, however, I find it very easy to understand why gay students would have been reluctant to come out in that environment. Gay slurs and stereotypes were commonplace at the time, I would even go so far as to say they were rampant. It was in no way an environment that accepted difference of any kind very readily.
Some of my classmates here in this course have mentioned that their high schools had Gay and Lesbian Alliances and other support groups for gay students. This is a positive step, and helps to confirm my belief that our society is making steps towards being more accepting and open to people who in some ways don't fit into the "normalized culture."
"One way to rupture the boundaries between groups is to emphasize the multiple subject positions (class, race, gender, sexuality, etc.) we all occupy." (P. 250)
Carlson mentions the major markers of cultural advantage in the parentheses before giving us the etcetera. If he had gone on to list all the cultural factors that make up who people are, that list could fill a whole page. The point being that people are generally so much more than the larger cultural classifiers that we often use to make superficial judgments on who that person is. As citizens, and more specifically as teachers, I think it is important to not judge our students' needs, abilities or backgrounds based purely on these superficial factors.
I really enjoyed this reading and found it very thought provoking. I think that adolescence is a difficult time no matter what your sexual orientation is. The teen years are an often angst filled time of self-discovery and identification. There is a lot of pressure for youth to fit into the norm, in whatever ways that "norm" happens to be constructed.
I think that adolescence can be a ruthless time for kids, regardless of sexual orientation or whatever other cultural factors that might mark someone as an outsider. I also feel that the kids who feel the most adrift are often the ones who get the most overlooked by their teachers and other adults whose job it is to help the youth grow positively into adulthood. The kids who are the most self-assured or feel the most like they understand and belong in their own space often command the most attention as they are likely the easiest to deal with and to teach. Hopefully, as good teachers, we will learn to be able to reach those kids who need our help the most, but are unable to ask for it, due to feelings of not belonging.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Talking points: Richard Rodriquez, Hunger of Memory.
"It is not possible for a child--any child--ever to use his family's language in school. Not to understand this is to misunderstand the public uses of schooling and to trivialize the nature of intimate life--a family's `language'." (P. 10)
I don't see why this should be the case. It seems to me that lots of children do use their family's language in school. I feel that no matter what language or dialect you speak, there will always be elements of private, intimate language spoken in families away from a school setting. So, if Spanish were taught in public schools at an early age, I don't think it would have to detract from the language that families speak at home.
"An accident of geography sent me to a school where all my classmates were white, many the children of doctors and lawyers and business executives." (P. 9)
Today, in a lot of classrooms in a lot of cities, like, for example, Providence, the experience of many children is very different from the one Rodriquez grew up with. Providence Public Schools are over 60% Hispanic. Many of these children often let their "private language" of Spanish intersect with the public language of school. When I was working with the bi-lingual 6th grade class that I was assigned to through VIPS, I noticed that the kids felt comfortable speaking with each other in both Spanish and English. They could easily make the transition from their speech with each other to the speech they used with myself and the school librarian who I was working with.
"What I needed to learn in school was that I had the right--and the obligation--to speak the language of los gringos." (P. 18)
This relates back to what Delpit was referring to in The Silenced Dialogue. All children need to learn the language of power to be able to participate in it and have a voice. The current structure will never change if everybody is not receiving the same kind of education in reading and writing in formal English. I think this can be accomplished while at the same time acknowledging and even teaching other languages in schools.
I think it would be a great idea if all children were taught English and Spanish from pre-school or kindergarten on through high school. We are increasingly turning into a bi-lingual society. In many places, there are more students in the schools who speak Spanish than those who don't. Why not utilize this fact to start truly making our country bilingual? It seems to me that the ability to speak more than one language should be viewed as a positive thing, a skill with real value. If young children had classes in both Spanish and English, it would benefit the students who speak Spanish at home as well as the students who speak English at home. The Spanish students could learn that Spanish is not only a "private language", but it's a very important public language, as well. In turn, the English speaking students would begin to learn this second public language.
It seems like a clear win-win to me.
While I disagreed with Richard Rodriquez' overall premise that his private language should never be used as a public language or taught in the schools, I did enjoy reading the piece. As someone who grew up bilingual myself, I identified with some of his descriptions of what it was like growing up with two languages. Although my experiences were very different, I found myself relating to his descriptions of what it was like to have a private, intimate, family language.
I don't see why this should be the case. It seems to me that lots of children do use their family's language in school. I feel that no matter what language or dialect you speak, there will always be elements of private, intimate language spoken in families away from a school setting. So, if Spanish were taught in public schools at an early age, I don't think it would have to detract from the language that families speak at home.
"An accident of geography sent me to a school where all my classmates were white, many the children of doctors and lawyers and business executives." (P. 9)
Today, in a lot of classrooms in a lot of cities, like, for example, Providence, the experience of many children is very different from the one Rodriquez grew up with. Providence Public Schools are over 60% Hispanic. Many of these children often let their "private language" of Spanish intersect with the public language of school. When I was working with the bi-lingual 6th grade class that I was assigned to through VIPS, I noticed that the kids felt comfortable speaking with each other in both Spanish and English. They could easily make the transition from their speech with each other to the speech they used with myself and the school librarian who I was working with.
"What I needed to learn in school was that I had the right--and the obligation--to speak the language of los gringos." (P. 18)
This relates back to what Delpit was referring to in The Silenced Dialogue. All children need to learn the language of power to be able to participate in it and have a voice. The current structure will never change if everybody is not receiving the same kind of education in reading and writing in formal English. I think this can be accomplished while at the same time acknowledging and even teaching other languages in schools.
I think it would be a great idea if all children were taught English and Spanish from pre-school or kindergarten on through high school. We are increasingly turning into a bi-lingual society. In many places, there are more students in the schools who speak Spanish than those who don't. Why not utilize this fact to start truly making our country bilingual? It seems to me that the ability to speak more than one language should be viewed as a positive thing, a skill with real value. If young children had classes in both Spanish and English, it would benefit the students who speak Spanish at home as well as the students who speak English at home. The Spanish students could learn that Spanish is not only a "private language", but it's a very important public language, as well. In turn, the English speaking students would begin to learn this second public language.
It seems like a clear win-win to me.
While I disagreed with Richard Rodriquez' overall premise that his private language should never be used as a public language or taught in the schools, I did enjoy reading the piece. As someone who grew up bilingual myself, I identified with some of his descriptions of what it was like growing up with two languages. Although my experiences were very different, I found myself relating to his descriptions of what it was like to have a private, intimate, family language.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Talking points on reading from Jonathan Kozol's Amazing Grace.
Quotes:
"In some cities, the public reputation of a ghetto neighborhood bears little connection to the world that you discover when you walk the streets with children and listen to their words."(pgs. 3 and 4)
Kozol goes on to describe the incredibly bleak surroundings he discovered in this particular section of the South Bronx in New York City. The destitute reputation of this neighborhood seems to mirror what life is like there. Living in Providence, a city that certainly has a less than stellar reputation in some circles, I found myself thinking about how this quote relates to my own city. While the schools are struggling here and many people are living in poverty situations, I have never found the reality of the neighborhoods here to come anywhere near approaching the almost apocalyptic conditions described by Kozol in this reading. As a matter of fact, I find Providence to be a diverse, integrated, and safe place to live and walk around.
While I am not unaware that there are people here living under very difficult circumstances, the conditions of despair are nowhere near as universally pervasive, even in the poorest neighborhood. It was depressing to read of a place where there simply seems to be no hope for any of the inhabitants. Although, there was only a passing mention of the school system in this section, I can only imagine that trying to get an education in that neighborhood is virtually impossible.
"`The day is coming when the world will be destroyed,' he finally announces. `Everyone is going to be burned to crispy cookies.'" (pg. 10)
This quote from the seven year old Cliffie brings home the reality of what I referred to as apocalyptic conditions in the last passage. There is a wisdom, almost a wry humor, expressed in the words of this very young boy living in this utterly despairing environment. They also convey a poignant reminder of why people in the most dire circumstances often turn to religion as a way to make sense of the world around them. These words, even though they express a feeling of hopelessness, almost give me a glimmer of hope for the youth living in this environment.
"`Evil exists,' he says, not flinching at the word. `I believe that what the rich have done to poor people in this city is something that a preacher could call evil. Somebody has power. Pretending that they don't so they don't need to use it to help people- that is my idea of evil.'"
This quote from Mrs. Washington's teenage son, David relates to Lisa Delpit's descriptions of the structure of power in "The Silenced Dialogue." Delpit's last principle related to power states that, "those with power are frequently least aware of-or least willing to acknowledge-its existence. Those with less power are often most aware of its existence." David is clearly very personally aware of the existence of an oppressive structure of power. He doesn't seem willing to believe that those with power are subconsciously unaware of its existence. Rather, he seems to be of the opinion that those in power are very aware of the situation, and only "pretending" that it doesn't exist so they won't have to help those on the opposite end of the spectrum. How could he feel otherwise, living in the situation he lives in, and knowing that nobody is doing anything to improve the situation.
Reading this excerpt, I initiallly found myself thinking that Kozol must be exaggerating the conditions for effect. However, when he cited the murder rates and some of the specifics of the conversations he had, I started to think that this description was, indeed, very real. The style of the piece was certainly different than the others we have read so far. While Johnson's, Delpit's and Macintosh's writings were more sociological and academic, this was much more of a narrative, telling a story and creating a setting. I won't say that it was a difficult read from an intellectual perspective, but from an emotional standpoint, I found it very difficult. I'm sure that was the intention, and it worked on me.
The simple question that I would want to share with the class is, as prospective teachers with backgrounds, presumably, worlds apart from this setting, how would we go about teaching in a school located amidst this kind of despair?
"In some cities, the public reputation of a ghetto neighborhood bears little connection to the world that you discover when you walk the streets with children and listen to their words."(pgs. 3 and 4)
Kozol goes on to describe the incredibly bleak surroundings he discovered in this particular section of the South Bronx in New York City. The destitute reputation of this neighborhood seems to mirror what life is like there. Living in Providence, a city that certainly has a less than stellar reputation in some circles, I found myself thinking about how this quote relates to my own city. While the schools are struggling here and many people are living in poverty situations, I have never found the reality of the neighborhoods here to come anywhere near approaching the almost apocalyptic conditions described by Kozol in this reading. As a matter of fact, I find Providence to be a diverse, integrated, and safe place to live and walk around.
While I am not unaware that there are people here living under very difficult circumstances, the conditions of despair are nowhere near as universally pervasive, even in the poorest neighborhood. It was depressing to read of a place where there simply seems to be no hope for any of the inhabitants. Although, there was only a passing mention of the school system in this section, I can only imagine that trying to get an education in that neighborhood is virtually impossible.
"`The day is coming when the world will be destroyed,' he finally announces. `Everyone is going to be burned to crispy cookies.'" (pg. 10)
This quote from the seven year old Cliffie brings home the reality of what I referred to as apocalyptic conditions in the last passage. There is a wisdom, almost a wry humor, expressed in the words of this very young boy living in this utterly despairing environment. They also convey a poignant reminder of why people in the most dire circumstances often turn to religion as a way to make sense of the world around them. These words, even though they express a feeling of hopelessness, almost give me a glimmer of hope for the youth living in this environment.
"`Evil exists,' he says, not flinching at the word. `I believe that what the rich have done to poor people in this city is something that a preacher could call evil. Somebody has power. Pretending that they don't so they don't need to use it to help people- that is my idea of evil.'"
This quote from Mrs. Washington's teenage son, David relates to Lisa Delpit's descriptions of the structure of power in "The Silenced Dialogue." Delpit's last principle related to power states that, "those with power are frequently least aware of-or least willing to acknowledge-its existence. Those with less power are often most aware of its existence." David is clearly very personally aware of the existence of an oppressive structure of power. He doesn't seem willing to believe that those with power are subconsciously unaware of its existence. Rather, he seems to be of the opinion that those in power are very aware of the situation, and only "pretending" that it doesn't exist so they won't have to help those on the opposite end of the spectrum. How could he feel otherwise, living in the situation he lives in, and knowing that nobody is doing anything to improve the situation.
Reading this excerpt, I initiallly found myself thinking that Kozol must be exaggerating the conditions for effect. However, when he cited the murder rates and some of the specifics of the conversations he had, I started to think that this description was, indeed, very real. The style of the piece was certainly different than the others we have read so far. While Johnson's, Delpit's and Macintosh's writings were more sociological and academic, this was much more of a narrative, telling a story and creating a setting. I won't say that it was a difficult read from an intellectual perspective, but from an emotional standpoint, I found it very difficult. I'm sure that was the intention, and it worked on me.
The simple question that I would want to share with the class is, as prospective teachers with backgrounds, presumably, worlds apart from this setting, how would we go about teaching in a school located amidst this kind of despair?
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