Wasted Potential Space

I’m student teaching in an inner city high school. I’ve aced every one of my undergrad biology classes and I’m a walking fountain of knowledge. I can lecture for hours on sexlinked traits, sodium-potassium pumps, and heterogeneous blah blah blah. But the students are intimidating (one of them follows me around the room with his eyes and mumbles threats under his voice) and the “real” teacher is unsupportive and disappears every day to the teachers’ lounge. At least that’s where I think she is; she is never anywhere to be found.
That experience was enough to make me reconsider the teaching profession. The following summer I received a call several days before the school year would begin, offering me a job “teaching high school seniors who had not passed the ISTEP exam”, no contract, so no strings attached. If I didn’t like it, I could give two weeks notice and head back to Parkview Hospital. The class was called FOCUS. But focus on what exactly? The answer to that question seemed very vague.
I was hired on a Thursday and at the end of the staff meeting I attended on Friday, I was handed a key to my first classroom. School would start on Monday and everyone seemed to be in a frenzy to get started so I took my key and set off alone in search of my room. After wandering down deserted halls, I found C110 and turned the key, opened the door, and walked into a deserted classroom. I sat at the desk and looked around the room. I would start teaching in a few days and I still wasn’t clear on what it was I’d be teaching! There were some file cabinets in the room so I decided to look for clues. I spent the day searching through all the drawers and found papers with titles like: How to Conduct Yourself at a Job Interview and: How to Resist Peer Pressure. I dug through the desk drawers and found personal items from the previous teacher who had been abruptly fired because of his ineffectiveness.
I thought of how bored to death I would be if I were to teach some equally bored teenagers what to wear to a job interview and I put myself in their place. If I wanted more than anything else to get my diploma and get out of high school, what would I want someone to teach me? The skills I needed to reach that goal. The things I didn’t know that made me feel stupid and an outsider. And I would like to be taught not by “someone who knows” but by a real person who relates to me on more of an equal level. I immediately set to work compiling materials that would help me do that. I found some remedial math books, English writing exercises, and other tools I could use. I spent the weekend planning and acquiring more materials. By Monday I was ready. I was very apprehensive though. I looked back on my student teaching experience and again regretted not following through with my first inclination: to stand at the front of the biology class and drop that heavy textbook into the garbage can, then encourage my students to do the same. I wanted to teach biology in a way that was relevant to my students' lives. To sit around lab tables examining crustaceans and bacterial colonies. But I was not willing to creatively challenge the status quo. Now I felt just like Martha did in her poem, “Stripping”. Instead of “hiding behind my lectern in my two-piece gray suit of armor” like I had during my student teacher episode, I was going to “walk, stripped of armor and lecture notes among (my) students, anticipating being caressed or cut”. What if ALL of my new students were like Mr. Shifty Eyes?
I worked at that job for two years and it was the best job I ever had. I had an assistant who I loved, a black woman who taught me a lot about her culture and the culture of many of my students. Our classroom was filled with laughter and personal stories that our students related. We built relationships with them that we still have to this day. We did hands-on math exercises outside on warm spring days and wrote essays about relevant issues, such as, how 911 affected their lives personally. Almost every one of our students went on to graduate and we celebrated that with them.
While I’d like to say I figured it all out for myself, I have to admit I searched out other teachers who were also teaching FOCUS. We “pooled our resources” and “created an intermediate arena” over the phone and via intraschool mail, sharing materials and ideas. Welch says that “it’s through such potential spaces that teachers form the voices of critique and possibility they need to address in both their classrooms and institutions”. I used these potential spaces to improve what went on in my classroom but when the time came to face the “institutions” who wanted to eliminate FOCUS classes we were all strangely silent, accepting the verdict handed down from “up top”. Money was tight and any nonessential classes were eliminated.
I subbed at that high school the following fall. During my lunch break, I went to my old classroom. I looked through the window and there was a young woman sitting at my old desk. I opened the door, walked in, and saw students sitting around idly, some even on the desks. The classroom was now being used for Inschool Suspension. These were the students who had not, would not, pass the ISTEP test. The learning had stopped; the dialog was over. They would spend the rest of their lives sitting on the curb just like they were sitting on their desks.
Teachers and their students today desperately need potential spaces that “support not only individual changes in particular classrooms, but also collective challenges to institutional structures”. If we had used our potential space for institutional change, those same students would have been engaged in challenging, meaningful, activities that would’ve made them active members of our culture.

TRJE Rehearsal

I headed back over to observe TRJE last night. This time I arrived fairly early and there were only a few young people there. They had started to form a circle and were preparing for the libation ritual. This is where one person is chosen to slowly pour water onto a live plant while the others in the surrounding circle call out the names of people who have “passed on”. One of them asked, “Does the oldest person here give permission to perform the libation?” I obviously was the oldest person present and consented. In this group of young people, age is viewed as an asset and the resulting wisdom is respected. That attitude is hard to find in this country. In my classroom, I really notice the respect for elders that is present in all the cultures of my students. It makes me sad that in my own country we tend to cast aside the elderly population and view them as less intelligent. Another value that was stressed during the libation ritual was unity with those who had come before. This also is important for young people because it helps them to be accountable for their actions, knowing that what they do reflects on their own families as well as the greater family of man.
After libations, other people started arriving and the lead-in question was presented. The question was: “What is your favorite class at school and why?” As the question was passed around, the newcomers filed in and seamlessly became a part of the circle. This time I was familiar with the protocol and tapped the person beside me so they were free to speak. I was surprised to hear the answers that were given, since math was by far the most common. The reason was also a surprise; “It’s challenging for me.” Most kids want to take the easy route; these kids were up for a challenge. Another thing I noticed that was different about them was their lack of fidgeting. I’ve worked with groups of young people that size and it can be next to impossible to get them to sit quietly and be respectful while others speak. Even when Ketu had to leave the room for a minute, these kids didn’t take advantage of his absence. The younger ones knew they’d be called out by the older ones if they misbehaved and the older ones seemed to embrace their responsibility within the group.
After a discussion of the rehearsal notes, the circle was broken so they could rehearse for the upcoming Back from Africa performance. Though the drums were already set up in their beautifully decorated stands, there was a flurry of activity as the students all took their places. It reminded me of a beehive; everyone looked like they were swarming but each one had their own unique purpose. The drummers started and the dancers blended right in. Even the youngest ones who were not dancing or playing the drums sat on the floor and called out to encourage the performers. The energy was high and they danced and played with great enthusiasm. I was especially struck with the contrast between the fluid movements of the girls’ long, thin arms and the lone boy’s more forceful interpretation of the music. Their feet beat a rhythm on the floor to match the drums. I watched Ketu model a rhythm on the drum. It looked as if his hands were galloping across the animal skin. After a few tries, his protégé seemed to grasp the technique. The pedagogy is very interesting; the students just seem to absorb what they need to learn. Mary Ann came in and joined me. She practiced beating out Tiriba on the wooden floor. Soon we left and on the way out I was able to meet some of the parents and we agreed that I would give them access to the blog.

First TRJE Visit

I went to observe TRJE last night. What an interesting community! I found my way easily upstairs to the Fort Wayne Dance Collective and walked across the wooden dance floor to join the circle of TRJE members. A young girl pointed out that I needed to remove my shoes and I shuffled back out to leave them in the hall. After settling in on the floor, a young girl proposed the question of the evening: What could be done in your school to make learning more interesting? Each member rose, stated their name and who their parents were, and gave their opinion of improvements that could be made to keep their attention in the classroom. I tried to be observant of the ritual but when I’d finished my turn the next person in line remained silent. Everyone pointed out that I needed to touch her before she could speak. After everyone had had a turn, Ketu (the leader) acknowledged their opinions but also pointed out the teacher’s perspective and that learning is largely the students’ responsibility. He made them think about what they could do to improve their own learning, given the set of circumstances they found themselves in at school.
After various announcements regarding upcoming events, Ketu left the apprentices (people who had been members of TRJE for a long period of time) to guide everyone in rehearsing for the next performance. Everyone pitched in carrying numerous folding chairs that would be used to support the drums. A circle was set up and everyone took their places. Some played jenbe drums and established the beat while all the others in the surrounding circle joined in. One of the apprentices hovered on the outside of the circle to help any of the newer drummers with their technique. I met Akin who took me to another room where the drums were stored and he explained the different types of drums and how they are played. All of them were beautifully made, hand carved from various African trees.
I then went in search of Dr. Cain who said she would be with some of the mothers who helped run TRJE. I met Agatha, who Mary Ann described as the nerve center of the organization. Agatha seemed to be the one who took care of all the clerical details but she had a laptop in front of her and offered to show us some of the over 2,000 pictures she had taken during their recent trip to Africa. After several years of raising money, a group of about twenty took the long anticipated trip. Not only were the pictures fascinating, but Agatha was a natural story teller and wove a tale around each picture. We laughed at the antics of the young people and the hardships that were encountered and oohed and ahhed at the stunningly beautiful faces of the local children. I could’ve listened to Agatha’s stories all night but all the parents began arriving and it was time for everyone to go home.
For these past several days after that visit I’ve thought about my final project. What could I do that was creative and could be of some service to the group? I know I had mentioned recording the history of the group in past blogs but I think I’d rather do something more personal with the young students. Perhaps I could help any students who are interested in creating a written and visual account of their African trip? They could write about their experiences and how their lives were affected by what they learned in Africa. It all could be illustrated with some of the photos they had taken and could be supplemented with some of Agatha’s photos. The journals could be used to garner support for future trips so other students would have the same opportunities. I know there’s nothing like personal accounts to inspire others to get involved.

Rewriting Ourselves Through Therapeutic Writing

We can rewrite ourselves….revision [is] a means to confront, intervene in, redirect, and change not just a particular piece of writing, but our sense of ourselves and our roles in the world…Donald Murray


What Welch means by the term “death work” is a writer’s resistance to revision. This resistance seems to be strongest at the moments writers feel the most restless. These moments are where a writer has the tendency to question and stray. Sadly, this is often the text that teachers focus on in the mistaken belief that it needs “revision”. If, instead, writers are taught to search out these moments of dissonance and resist the urge for a “tight focus” or “neat closure” they may challenge the meanings and preconceived notions they have of their life. Sommers wrote that “sensations of dissonance and disturbance are the start of discovering and of learning”. If a writer’s understanding of revision is a dismantling of their beliefs, experiences, and their identification as self, it’s understandable that they would consider revision death work.
Another point that Welch brought up is that it’s not only moments of dissonance that writers need to focus on but that they also need to focus on moments of harmony, where the text fits too neatly and appears most clear and complete. The writer needs to ask, “What’s creating this feeling of gratification and what is being suppressed in the process?” Since I haven’t had much experience writing creatively or teaching creative writing, only academic writing, I would love to try Welch’s methods of “revisioning”.
I found the section on writing as therapy particularly interesting. I teach people who have lived through extremely traumatic events, been tortured, watched their homes burned, their loved ones massacred, their very identities taken away. While I try to generally keep a very upbeat classroom, there are a few writing exercises I’ve had my students do that stand out as therapeutic. Unfortunately, I remember them as painful and I almost dread repeating the process with each new group of students. Is it all worthwhile to them? Does it help them redirect their sense of self? The exercise is based on this question: If you were leaving your current life forever and had only 20 minutes to pack a suitcase, what would you pack? Since this is not a hypothetical situation for many of my students, they write about what they actually did pack when they came to America. I’ve noticed they are initially very general in what they write about. For example; I brought books, clothes, jewelry, photos. When I ask: What kind of books and why did you choose those? Which photos and why did you bring the jewelry? I get very poignant answers. I brought pictures of my mother because I know I’ll never see her again. I brought biology and science books so I can tutor my children from a book in my own language so they don’t get behind in school. I brought the jewelry so I’ll have something to sell if I need money. The exercise is very painful for them and some of them visibly become depressed while they’re writing. I dread it but when they are finished and their stories are up on the bulletin board, they read theirs and their classmate’s over and over and seem almost triumphant that they are now on the other side of that life and have crossed over victoriously. I’ve seen firsthand that therapeutic writing can be dangerous and messy and can lead to unforeseen consequences but what if these consequences prove to lessen what Bakhtin calls “a tendency toward hushing up the discursive carnival of laughter, anger, tears, and joy that might disrupt our official, moving-into-academic-high-culture narratives”?

I'm starting to get antsy about my final project. I've defintely chosen to do the service learning option so I'm eager to get started. Meeting in the small groups last week was helpful. We talked about what our focus would be and that caused me to generate some ideas. Sarah had mentioned in her presentation that TRJE was looking for someone to write their history. I wonder if that is still a possibility? Also, I think it could be interesting to work with some of the young people about writing their personal histories. There's that therapeutic writing thing again. Maybe I could try out some of Welch's techniques?