For your MOM: [If you haven't been doing a minute of mindfulness each
day -- if you've been telling yourself you're too busy, you're too
stressed, it doesn't matter, whatever-- stop cheating yourself. Give yourself the gift of a minute. Better yet, give yourself 5-10.]
JOURNAL TOPIC: As I read the news (again), I realize it's time to take a risk, go back to my roots, and share some of my own thoughts with you, even as I ask you to think about yours. Let's see who's still reading this blog and finishing the year strong. I'm going to post this in the morning for you/us to think about, and we can discuss on Zoom if you like. I'll add the recording of our meeting to this post later.
The Risk: I miss playing tunes while we write. But today's tune (below, follow the links) is no joke.
My Roots: I graduated high school in 1988, right in the middle of what is now considered "The Golden Age" of rap. (I didn't know that was even a thing until I read it just now on Wikipedia, here.) 1988 was an awesome year to graduate high school in L.A. I became a freshman at UCLA, the Dodgers won the World Series, and life was good. On the other hand, this song and the reasons for it were (and still are) absolutely legitimate. My heritage is a mix. I am descended from families in which people were persecuted, kicked out of countries, and killed. I have survivor DNA. But I am not confused about my privileged place in America. I watched as my black teammates and friends growing up were followed in stores, pulled over in traffic, and beaten for no reason other than the color of their skin. I helped my friend Adrian avoid getting expelled by our racist high school principal. I helped my freshman year roommate Adrian talk a racist cop out of arresting him for driving a nice car in Westwood. I don't tell you this out of pride. I was young, and I was brave enough to speak truth to power in part because I was white. My grandmother feared the police and wouldn't call them if she was being robbed, but I didn't grow up that way. I'm only sharing these stories because they NEVER SHOULD HAVE HAPPENED. Adrian and Avery were only put in those positions because they were black. One major reason that I have the freedom to think the way I think is because my appearance and my name enable me to "pass" and get along anywhere I want to go in this country. I don't have to deal with the ignorance, judgement, or violence of people who profile on skin color, or wearing a turban, or having an unfamiliar accent, or an ethnically identifiable name.
Of course, none of this has anything whatsoever to do with whether I am intelligent, have a good character, or work hard. I won the genetic lottery. I am stupid lucky. I may be Jewish, I may be Native American, I may even have African-American ancestors, but for all practical intents and purposes, to people who don't know me, I am white.
My Responsibility: I believe that teaching is a noble profession. To clarify, by "teaching" I mean sharing knowledge and insight with learners that helps them understand the world and operate more effectively in it. Real teaching has little to do with sitting at desks in classrooms or taking standardized tests. In that spirit, I have an obligation to speak directly to the events that are unfolding in our country at this moment in time. As former UCLA professor Angela Davis once said,
“In a racist society it is not enough to be non-racist, we must be anti-racist.”
There are many ways to be anti-racist. We can seek out and read/listen to
perspectives that help us understand the lived experience of people from backgrounds, races, religions, ethnicities, and genders that are different from our own. We can investigate our own biases. We can have honest
conversations with one another, as co-learners, as equals, in which we
listen and empathize. We can
create art that speaks to inequality and imbalance of power. Sometimes
this art channels the raw emotions of fear and rage.
Which brings me back to 1988. Before games, my high school basketball teammates and I listened to rap music. One of our favorite groups was N.W.A. You may not recognize the band name -- which you should look up, and ask why it was named that way -- but you may recognize at least one of the members, because Ice Cube went on to achieve uncommon success in music, TV, and movies.
One of our favorite N.W.A. songs had an inflammatory title and lyrics that expressed the same frustration and anger that we have seen in the streets this week.
My question to you is this: As maturing young adults, can you see beyond the politics of hate? Can you take in the energy of that song, empathize with where it comes from, and somehow stay focused on making the world better, instead of tearing it further apart? It's an honest question and I occasionally struggle with it too. But this question won't go away, and it takes resolve to keep engaging with it. As Curtis Hayes asks a sixteen year-old in THIS VIDEO (it's only a couple minutes, please watch!), can you imagine our society being one in which people listen to each other, care about each other, and find a better way? Because after the honest expressions of anger, after the quarantine, the songs, and the protests, after the election... What is there?
- OR -
You can use your journal simply to write about life and your experiences in these unusual, challenging times.
AGENDA:
1. MOM
2. Journal
3. Meeting
4. Post
POST:
(Preview)
Today on Zoom we will discuss today's journal topic and dive into
"Surviving With Class" to consider suggestions, edits, and next steps.
(Review) Thank you for an insightful conversation today! Please post
your ideas about how you can stay sane, share your sanity, and
contribute to making our world slightly better. (title: RACE FITNESS)
For your MOM: [If you haven't been doing a minute of mindfulness each
day -- if you've been telling yourself you're too busy, you're too
stressed, it doesn't matter, whatever-- stop cheating yourself. Give yourself the gift of a minute. Better yet, give yourself 5-10.]
JOURNAL TOPIC: Seems like forever ago that we met in August and I told you that in a *snap* of the fingers we'd be ending the school year. Here we are. When you think back on the year, how have you grown or changed?
- OR -
You can use your journal simply to write about life and your experiences in these unusual, challenging times.
AGENDA:
1. MOM
2. Journal
3. Meeting
4. Post
POST:
Today on Zoom we talked about Langston Hughes' poem, "Theme for English B." What does this poem mean to you? Whatever your race, ethnicity, sex, or gender, what does the poem say to you about bringing your whole self to school? Do you feel like you can be You out loud, or do you feel like you have to be the person that authority figures expect you to be? (title: MY THEME FOR ENGLISH B)
Thanks to everyone who has contributed to "Surviving With Class" -- I have combined your work into one Google Doc and shared with the authors. If you wrote something and didn't receive the link, please let me know so I can get you on board. If you haven't written yet,
WRITE!!!
You can get ideas on the original post (HERE), you can reach out to me for a brainstorm, or you can ask the people you live with and see what they think.
Please send me whatever you write, even if it's in first-draft form, by this Friday. We're almost there.
