Constructing Kasun, Educator

I put the “C” from ICUSP into practice.  Institute for Community, University, and School Partnerships–C for community… I met with parents who the parent coordinator at the middle school selected for me to meet with.  They are three former PTA members from last year.  

We met at 5 pm in the parent coordinator’s classroom.  They are African American, and I am white.  In my introduction to them, I explained that I’m tired of the inequities that too many children in this country face in education, and the ones with the inequities tend not to look like me–white.  I also explained my reasons for wanting to do a PhD–to combat those inequities, to make school a place where kids don’t have to put on a mask when they walk in the door.  I don’t plan to explain this everywhere I go, but I felt like being as honest about my intentions as I can from the start.

These women all have children at the middle school.  The women were smart, thoughtful, interested.  It was humbling in a deep way to see the eyes of the parents–they are the ones who care the most, probably, about the program I’m trying to make work at the school.  And you know it matters the most to them–the parents, custodians of the futures for their kids.  You pray they believe your honesty and that you don’t screw it up.  The last thing I want advisory to be is some sort of mission work on the fly which serves my pursuit of, what–an advanced degree?

In general, they said they liked what they saw (I shared the page and a half of parameters of how advisory will work, the three main content components, the mission statement).  I also showed them the list of topics of curricular areas the planning committee had come up with.  However, they had important concerns.  What will we do to address the communication style some children have where they have side conversations?  Their side conversations aren’t supposed to be rude–it’s a discourse method.  The advisors (namely teachers) will have to understand that this style isn’t bad in and of itself–but rather that norms will have to be agreed upon within the group–not permitting that side conversation, but not dismissing the children’s experiences of it.  Luckily, the parent coordinator said staff have already received training to understand these (as the parent put it) “cultural differences.”  I also explained that advisory should also be a space where teachers learn a lot more about the children they teach.  It’s a cycle that should build upon itself.

More feedback–many children already have the skills we plan to teach.  Amen to that–and we want the experiences not to be redundant but to be cumulative–where kids can practice skills they have in ways that extend them.  And another interesting piece–the loud kid, the boisterous one, often is the one who is chastised.  But so often, she or he is the one who has really important observations to make.  Amen to that, too… I had to hold back tears as I thought of my students from last year in alternative education.  So often their experiences were the most important–and yet stifled by formal education.  Hopefully advisory will provide the safe space so that their experiences will be valued and voiced, as well as the experiences of the quieter students, too.

They had good questions about just how things would run… who the advisors would be, how they’d be chosen.  They had specific concerns about how to tailor the lessons as well–concerns that I will build into the way we write the curriculum as well.

We exchanged phone numbers, and I thanked them for their time.  I hope my intentions, training, and willingness to understand their perspectives, creating a space for those perspectives, will be enough to make this work.

I’ll be at the the middle school’s Back to School night on Sept. 2 and hope to meet more parents and get more feedback.  It’s about the C in ICUSP–and if we don’t put that letter in there, we’re just four letters without the critical link.

My Course Update–GREAT NEWS

I have a spare 30 minutes after my previous class letting out early.  Yes, I will drop the human inquiry course I described in my previous post.  The professor of the “Immigrant Experiences in the US” course is letting me in.  ”I could kiss your feet,” I told her.  While this is exaggerated, if she had said, “Do it,” I really would have.  The sense of relief was too immense–particularly after hearing her go through the syllabus and the incredible readings we will cover as well as her own expertise as an anthropologist in the field.  I am overcome with relief but have to put the stamina together for my next class in a few minutes.

Today was my kick-in-the-chest first day of school at UT, sort of.

I sat through the supposed-to-be three hour class related to human inquiry (turned into less than two so we could get to the bookstore to buy a necessary book before it closed at 6).  And felt shocked.  The professor laughed her way through how hard she is, how she has the power in the classroom.  And then had us write individual definitions to words like, “reality, knowledge, theory, science, objectivity,” had us sit in groups to come to consensus on a working definition, and then went around the room for each group definition.  To tell us how wrong we all were at each turn (making sometimes admissions when someone was a little bit right).  Then she gave us the “right” definition and has us take notes.

I looked around the room and saw the women’s and men’s faces fall.  Some looked down.  Some twitched.  I thought about the educational research that shows when emotions are running too high, the student can’t learn very well.  I wondered if I was there emotionally, feeling beaten down and like I knew very little.  We discovered that one paradigm of thinkers, the social constructivists, had been misusing the term for reality and confusing it with knowledge.  Reality is, after all, what exists.  Independent of everything else.  According to her.

This was my sort-of first day because it’s the class my advisor said I should take if I can’t get into the others I want (I’ll find out after sitting through a class in about one and half hours if I get in).  

To the professor’s credit, a graduate student here I admire who works with her as her advisor, says that the above professor is one of the best and perhaps most honest here.  ”Education is violent,” the student says the professor has told her–and she agrees with that sentiment. Maybe she’s right–maybe education uproots that which is false within us.  Maybe multicultural education is too soft, a repackaging and normalizing of things that already don’t work?  That doesn’t sit well in my gut, but I’m here to learn–and judging from that professor’s syllabus and student testimony, I could, despite my feelings, learn a lot.

More on the meeting I had about meeting with parents at the middle school about advisory–a meeting in which I learned a lot–in a subsequent post.

I’m almost afraid to jinx things for the folks at the middle school where I work, but I am so excited I have to provide an update.

The staff and students were shining.  I was thrilled.  I spent the first two hours of school as a warm body to help move students who were confused to their classes and just lend any support I might at the middle school.

The smartly-colored concrete floors shone with the luster of full polish and promise; the students were bright in the two stories of sunlight that penetrated the all-window atrium.  The man for whom the school is named, former Austin Mayor Gus Garcia greeted students as they entered the building.  I met him briefly and wanted to hug him–things looked great to start the day.

Kids were nervous.  A sixth grade teacher smiled and met them inside the building and had directions for where to send the kids.  All of them kept saying they were nervous.  Oh, middle school.  And somehow (maybe because I worked in high school for too long) they looked so cute.  I know they will be difficult; I know they are not fully innocent.  But so cute…

I met a brand new teacher, today.  He had lived with his family where he went to college in Corpus Christi, and today was his first day.  He didn’t have the schedules for his homeroom kids, and he was nervous.  He just moved here, just like the new Spanish teacher.  I hoped and hoped for them that things will go well.  I smiled at them and so many students…  

The spirit of the teachers was one that was absolutely positive, almost confident.  I was talking with one of the folks from “downtown” (AISD Central Office) who was helping out with registrations (warm body, like me), and he spotted the Assistant Superintendent come in at about 9:30.  I hoped the Assistant Super liked what he saw; I did.

It wasn’t my first day as a teacher at this school, and that felt funny.  I was very much the observer.  On the other hand, it felt good.  So many good people in that building.  And my first first (in terms of being a student) will be Wednesday… I think… unless something happens to my schedule.

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I had my first “What the heck am I doing here?” moment a few days ago when I couldn’t register for a course I was dying to take.  It was ugly.  I begged, got my sort-of advisor to do my bidding–no good.  So I have him bidding for another class, and I’m not getting any answers.  This puts me into a dubious position of taking a class I’m not sure I need or want.  But at least I’ll have two that I had wanted to take (rounding me out with three classes and fulltime student status).  I guess this is kind of normal, but a bump in the road for sure.

Today was orientation for students new to the Curriculum and Instruction program at UT.  

Bold, earthy, and robust describe the employee-description of a kind of coffee I purchased at that nameless swanky grocery store where I always leave feeling a little bit entitled to piped-in lounge music, high-end salsas, and gourmet lifestyle.  When countries are only important because of the origin of the coffee bean, you know you and the people you represent are in trouble.  Yikes. (And I try to stay informed, but I’ve been so well marketed to that many countries DO mean more to me because of their coffee beans.)

So the orientation wasn’t bold, earthy, or robust.  But it was informative, and maybe my header got your attention–and there’s a reason.  Here are some nibbles of information that seemed important:

1. Earthy–Get a bike.  You won’t find much parking on campus.  Or learn to use the buses.

2. Bold–Learn to “balance” (this from the last in a line of about seven grad students on a panel–why wasn’t this advice given earlier)?

3. Robust–You will deal with lots of numbers–course codes, registration dates, your “RIS” (something that means there’s a widget in the way electronically of your registering, namely–tuition payments, overdue book fees, parking tickets, etc.).  I had a quick flashback to a scene from Woman in the Dunes where the protagonist laments how he has been reduced to a series of numbers and forms of identification–perhaps the moment where he was willing to lose all that and spend the rest of his life fighting sand while regaining his sense of self by throwing those numbers to the wind.

***

I met with my sort-of advisor on the spot (sort-of because, I’m told, you shouldn’t commit to an advisor until your research interests are much clearer).  I was the one doctoral student in my program at the orientation (should this worry me–there was a mini repeat session this evening as well?) among lots of technology and education folks (some curriculum and instruction, as well).  He advised me the way my priest counseled my husband and I before our marriage–guerrilla style advice-hit hard and fast, and hopefully glossing the essentials.  He mentioned having family and/or friends in town this afternoon, hence the quick meeting? On one hand I’m lucky to get any facetime with him; on the other–I’m high maintenance and want to feel like I know what I’m doing.  One big nugget of good advice from him–go ahead and take the somewhat advanced qualitative methods course with a good prof in my program.  I hadn’t planned on it, but my sort-of advisory agreed I’d be ready and that the professor didn’t have prerequisites that would keep me out of the course.

My s-o advisor signed my “advised” form in front of the graduate coordinator and the Graduate Advisor (also a professor at UT).  ”Oh, a blank check?” half-smile, raised eyebrows.  My s-o advisor communicated a lot in about 10 steps of facial gestures to him.  It was a short study in a long history of love.

Back in the larger orientation session, I think the 30 or so other students were either completely overwhelmed and had almost no questions or they were frustrated at the two women who had lots of questions (a Spanish woman behind me, and, well, me).  ”What do you do when you want to register for a course that’s already full?  How do you get your on-campus wireless to work?  What does the second digit in the generic course code (not the “unique number” we’ll need to register with) mean?”

The out-going (pun intended) graduate coordinator is moving into a higher, warmer spot at UT–and he is clearly a genius.  He managed to cut off the Graduate Advisor so that the new students might meet briefly during the break with the eight or so professors who had dutifully made their appearances at our orientation.  I could tell this man had skills as he cut him off.  I was wondering if he’d do it while the profs waited in the back of the room–and he was clean, quick, and graceful.  He’s also a juggler.  Really.

Classes start in a week.  I have a list of the five I’d like to take.  I can only take three.  My future may or may not depend on who I start to learn from now and the way I tune my own research interests (all 31 flavors) into the expertise of the folks I’ll be studying with.  I will log in promptly at 10 am to register (as indicated in my online sign-in slot) while I participate in the beginning of the Institute meeting at 10 am (the institute where I’m implementing student advisory at a local middle school). I can only hope those classes will be bold, earthy, and robust.

I had lunch and extensive adult-life conversation, including swapping coastal stories of how to buy a mortgage with a colleague and friend from my former life working in Mexico.  She currently teaches social studies to middle school students in Seattle.  Her partner asked what we had talked about over brunch (we met while he finished a late sleep), and I explained we had solved middle schools’ problems in the US.  Trouble is, we forgot to take notes.  Here’s the best I can remember.

Steph explained that her middle school students are just beginning to enter that awful phase of choosing whether or not to be jumped into gangs.  At her school, about 70% live in poverty.  About 16% of her students are Latino, and only about 9% are white, she said (the rest are Asian and African American).  As the Latino students population has recently risen over the last couple years, so has the black and brown tension–a phenomenon that either lurked under the surface or hardly existed until now.  Furthermore, she keeps waiting for her district to respond to the steep rise in gang recruitment… despite her letters to her superintendent.  She is hopeful that a couple community meetings being held this summer may bear some fruit.

“We have so many kids skipping now… and the 6th graders have learned it from the 8th graders–what do we do?”  I was encouraged to learn that few of her fellow teachers are of the gripe and moan ilk, e.g., “It’s because they come here and don’t want to learn.”  Rather, they want to know how they can be effective in communicating with families at home instead of ineffective.  The teachers, unlike most of the students, tend to be white.  Well-intentioned, not fully equipped–and they’re wise enough to sense it.

Ah, so close to the University of Washington, and yet, so far… Multicultural education rockstar theorists are there–James A. Banks and Geneva Gay.  And yet, where is the university in this?  Far, far away, it seems (of course these people can’t be everywhere–we know that–but they’re SO CLOSE).  It’s true–she teaches in a district that borders Seattle proper, but she’s encouraged that it is small enough to implement change without heavy layers of bureaucracy.  Nonetheless, when she complains about these issues, she is tasked, along with the one other Spanish speaking staff member at her school, of serving on the committees to solve the problems.  Her principal is proactive, she says, but one wonders how long this principal will be there.  ”We go through cycles of awful principal, clean-up principal, awful one, awful one, great one, awful one.”

The same problems.  Crisis of leadership, teachers who want to do well, but don’t know how, children with curricula that leave them preferring to skip school, enough alienation from school community that kids would rather be beaten into gangs.  It’s a common story, and, yet, we in the US still don’t have even adequate answers. 

I guess the good news is that Steph, and so many passionate teachers, still have their hearts and skills invested in the kids.  And that counts for so much, but I fear it’s not enough. 

All hesitation about getting my mind focused on advisory has dissipated.  I am fully geared-up for the advisory program I’m directing at the middle school.

First–several hours of imagining/reading/planning.  I created approximately twenty pages of planning guide materials to use at a two-day planning session with about seven middle school staff members (teachers and counselors).  Next, a five-hour planning session two days ago with the lead guidance counselor (my right-hand person in running advisory).  He is skillful, insightful, and has great relationships with many staff members already… so his instincts on how to work with them are spot-on.  Finally, attempts to contact the principal (with mixed success) regarding who would provide breakfast, making photocopies of planning manuals, and making sure we can provide adequate training for the entire staff on running advisory groups throughout the year.

Today–planning session in the middle school library from 8:30 to 12:30.  The facility at this middle school is incredible.  Hilltop location with sweeping views (not the norm for flatter Texas).  State-of-the-art technology in the building.  Thoughtful and attractive construction, including a sweeping entrance for students lit with sunrays during Austin’s 300 sunny days each year.

The teachers and counselors who participated this morning are smart, insightful, and full of heart.  They talked about what we’re fighting against–how this middle school is considered Austin’s very worst, and how kids mention it as if it were a badge of courage.  Of course, what else would they do?  They know it’s mentioned in the larger community as “the worst.”  Turn a negative into a positive?  The lead guidance guy mentioned how he’d been at dinner with his wife and a couple friends, the friends having commented that they had heard that the middle school, in its one year of existence, has already been “trashed.”  Hardly.  My old school district (complete with some of the country’s highest property tax revenues) has no facilities which rival this one.

We developed a statement of purpose… We thoughtfully worked through what exactly we hope Garcia’s students (and staff) will get from advisory.  Building relationships.  Success.  Self discovery.  The statement is inside the building (waiting for our second and final day’s work tomorrow).  We labored over whether or not to use education jargon, “buzz words.”  We said no.  I like this group!  So far, it’s about the mission, not the fluff.  We also discussed some of the parameters of how we’ll run advisory (the content emphases including community/relationship buildling, decision-making/life planning, and career/college prep).  Each week we will use one of the three themes and build out the theme, shifting the next week.

In a warm-up activity, part of the work included articulating fears.  Some suggested there might not be enough structure.  How would we create buy-in?  At the end of today’s meeting, we revisited our work, and the teachers expressed a more definitive sense of purpose and a sense of assurance that there will be good structure and programming.  A lot of that structure is my responsibility.  I humbly assess that information and hope I will honor it and do work worthy of the professionals with whom I’m working.