Here is my website. For now, the lesson plans are what I focused on. I plan to develop the resources, readings and my blog as times goes on. Thank you all for a wonderful semester. 🙂

I have to start my response to the work of Sonya Douglass Horsford with a short rant that speaks to my experience with the quote, “even on issues of race and equity, white allies are the experts, taking up space in the margins with what they believe the education of Black and other historically disenfranchised children should look and feel like.”  I thought instantly about the dynamic in the school in which I teach.  My school, like many majority white schools, has taken a half-hearted attempt at equity and inclusion.  I was asked to join the committee, and as the only teacher of color in the middle school, I decided to do so.  During the committee meeting, which only met TWICE, I was forced to listen to the high school history teacher talk for about 20 minutes about how he teaches about redlining.  This is the white who also spearheads the social justice club, the mindfulness meditation club and has written a book on meditation in schools.  I could not believe the lack of self-awareness that this man shows on the regular.  

Further, in a classic case of interest conversion, the school has not at ALL shifted programming that has proven to harm the few students of color in our district, such as tracking and lack of teachers of color.  It is true that “those closest to the problem are closest to the solution,” as stated in the article, however, from my experience in a white-dominanted school, many “allies” have no real interest in any type of solution.  

In the second article, about integration in schools, I was really taken with the idea that resources should be redistributed “with less concern on the ‘separate’ and a greater focus on the ‘equal’…”  In fact, the focus on Brown vs. Board of Education reminded me of the fact that the NAACP did not originally focus on schooling at all, but instead began as an organization committed to ending lynchings.  It was not until white donors pushed to fund equality in schools that the NAACP even set its sights on the integration of schools.  As an educator, I think about this a lot.  In my heart, I feel that education, especially the education of the oppressed, is the pathway to true change, but at the same time, I worry that this is a false narrative.

Since I forgot to write my post before class, I will write about what I’ve been thinking about since class yesterday.  I’ve been thinking a lot about the radical nature of hope, imagination and creativity.  Specifically, I have been thinking about how emotions can be used as indicators both of what is working and, perhaps more importantly, about what needs to be worked on.  Spaces that crush the imagination and creativity feel hopeless and drain your energy.  Those spaces, not the people in them, need to be rehabilitated and reconfigured.  In that way, feelings indicate where our action is needed and maybe even what actions are required. 

What is interesting to me is that much of this knowledge is embodied.  As Audre Lorde writes in “On Activism,” that emotional knowledge is “the hidden sources of our power from where true

knowledge and, therefore, lasting action comes” (p. 36, 1984).  Therefore, similarly to the Blackfoot nation’s conception of needs in which self-actualization is a given, Audre Lorde expresses that our attainment of self-actualization is not something to be achieved and strived for, but something that must be tapped into, and for many of us, remembered. 

In reading about the principal highlighted in this week’s readings, I was amazed by the level and care and dedication that he exhibited.  The ease with which he interacts with both the teachers and the students makes it feel like his school is the ideal place to learn and a perfect community to contribute to.  I was so moved by the call to action and invitation that he wrote to NYC leaders and educators following the release of Eric Garner that I read the section aloud to my colleagues.  

I also appreciated that Rosa included that the DOE “rejected a proposal to include student, parent and teacher participants in the study,” and that she used the NYCDOE School Survey data to “mitigate the limitation …”  This transparency was really helpful and meaningful for me. I have been thinking a lot about ways to include parent and teacher voice into the structure of the school.  Though there are more authentic ways than these surveys that are published on school websites, it is interesting to see the different ways that community voices are honored.  

Lastly, I just wanted to say how wonderful it is to look at positive counternarratives in this class.  I especially appreciate that Rosa wrote, “As a critical ethnographer (Madison, 2020), I am drawn to counternarratives of success to better understand the underlying qualities and characteristics of effective principals leading in urban schools, and to do so in a way that honors the individuals who have opened their leadership practice to scrutiny.”  Though many researchers assume that giving a platform to marginalized voices is always positive, I think that as researchers we have to be very careful at the frameworks that we use to interpret the communities that we enter into.  As Foucault said that “visibility is a trap.”  We have to recognize that putting people in the spotlight can be very dangerous.  As such, I appreciate that Rosa is looking for positive counterstories to highlight and learn from the good being done. I also found it interesting that Rosa highlighted the ways that she served the community.  I believe that it is important for researchers to not only give back to the places that they study, but that they write about it so that it becomes a regular practice. 

This week’s readings made me think about how positionality and identity affect perception.  Many of the article’s discussions of hard and soft caring showed how actions such as lowering standards may seem like caring to the teacher, but students perceive the opposite.  It made me think about what a delicate balance teaching, and really any meaningful relationship is.  It’s a constant swaying between pushing the student forward and pulling back.  Further, I wondered about how special education plays into this situation.  The best teachers I know have the skills and strategies in their back pocket that allows them to push students.  They believe enough in their own abilities as teachers and the abilities of their students that they are truly relentless.  

At the end of the day, though, no matter what the teacher intends, if the student feels as though the teacher does not care, then the outcome will be a lack of student learning and commitment.  

This truth about perception extends to adults as well.  I often feel as though administrators don’t care about me, my opinion or my work.  Just as students need teachers that offer critical care, teachers need principals that do the same. 

Another theme that emerged for me from these readings is that many of the wonderful schools and parent organizations grew out of a need that was not being met.  The Malcolm X quote at the end of the parent video highlights the need to turn our rage into action.  We see this in our small moments – students need teachers who will not just feel sorry for them, but will act in ways that will bolster their success, and in our larger activism – teachers and parents need to band together in order to make systemic changes.  The idea that change occurs in response to a low point reminds me of the conversation that we had the first day of class, in which we spoke about moments of caring in schools often occurring alongside a traumatic event or time in our lives.  

Lastly, I thought a lot about the positive surveillance practices that were described in the Antrop-Gonzalez & De Jesus article.  Those practices reminded me a lot of womanist and mothering practices.  For me, growing up, my grandmother watched all of her grandchildren incessantly.  It was impossible to do anything wrong because she would always know about it.  This practice of lovingly hovering with a sharp eye and a strong hand is common in many communities, especially marginalized ones in which the risk of permissiveness is greatest.  Many educational leaders, for instance, Ladson-Billings, have written at length about the positive impact of having so many kinfolk around that there was literally nowhere to hide.  

These readings also left me with a question about integration.  Do you think that some healing practices, such as culturally relevant curriculum and parental involvement, would work as well in an integrated school? 

I really enjoyed this week’s readings for many reasons.  First of all, similar to the week when we read about the womanist ideology, this week’s readings built upon the work of Paulo Freire.  What I love so much about the way that these readings were curated is that I can clearly see the way that ideas develop over time in academia, and I can begin to see myself entering into a conversation such as the one that unfolded over this week’s readings.  

In addition to one another, this week’s readings built on a couple of themes that I have been thinking about in this class.  For instance, the idea of caring or loving educators being willing to take on risk was touched on in many readings. Rosa’s piece gave two current and specific examples of the risks that educators undertake when they approach the role of principal through the framework of armed love.  Further, Friere and Darder spoke specifically about the concept of fear and how fear is a necessary element of our quest for liberation.  As someone who is very interested in studying emotions, I really enjoyed the way that Friere approached fear.  Rather than as something to run away from, to Friere fear is an indicator that you are an educator that is on the right path.  Only by recognizing and working through fear can we develop courage.  This discussion of fear reminded me of Audre Lorde’s idea that we can learn to work through fear like we learn to work through exhaustion.  (She said it much more beautifully, but I cannot find the quote right now.)  I find this conception of fear as a bearable companion especially meaningful when coupled with Darder’s assertion that “many administrators … instill a fear of freedom.”  Not only can we work through fear, but we must because anything worth doing is scary by design.  

Lastly, I found comfort in Miller’s reminder that Freire’s work is not a “radical recipe.”  Sometimes I get frustrated as a teacher-educator because I mostly teach white women of relative privilege.  Thinking about education “that transforms the space where children, rich or poor, are able to learn, to create, to take risks, to question, and to grow” helps me to see the ways that even those of privilege can learn to fight to change the status quo. 

In my career as a teacher, I have had four principals.  When two of those principals walked into the room, it felt like dementors from Harry Potter.  When one walked in, no one really noticed, except some stood up a little straighter. When my favorite walked in, the kids would run to him, proud of whatever they were working on. When I think back, I have often relied upon vague descriptions to convey how these leaders made me feel. I “trusted” or did not “trust” them.  They seemed to “care” about the students or not. They were on the “side” of the teachers or saw teachers as their subordinates.  They were committed to equitable practices or they were white supremacists.  After reading this week’s readings and watching the video, I have begun to think about specific actions that these leaders took, both positive and negative to create a school culture.

The Khalifa reading stayed with me the most because the authors detailed specific practices that the school leaders enacted to create culturally responsive schools.  Some that stood out included, “… uses school data and indicants to measure CRSL … uses parent/community voices to measure culturally responsiveness in schools… uses equity audits to measure student inclusiveness, policy, and practice… using culturally responsive assessment tools for students” (p. 1283 – 1284).  These were concrete steps that these principals took to combine what Lomotey described as the bureaucrat/administrators and ethno-humanist sides of school leadership.  The fact that data could be used for creating more equity and CR practices is so far from what I see on a day-to-day basis, that I had to take note.  It is the rare principal who uses data to support those whom educational structures are designed to combat. I was left wondering if we were still in segregated spaces, would the goals of education be more clear and would children be used as a scapegoat less often?

As many of the readings spoke about the effect of a principal on test scores, I also found myself thinking about measures of school success.  So much of what defines a successful school to me is intangible.  I have worked in many “good” schools where students performed well on tests but teachers and students were miserable.  I attributed our collective misery to the leadership of these schools, and I still do.  I do believe that there is a connection between the tone of the school and the leadership of the principal, but I am not convinced that there is a direct correlation between the leadership of a principal and the academic performance of the students.  In such an inequitable society, with such biased measures of performance, I am not convinced that a principal can always be counted on to do more than to change (important) but often unmeasured aspects of a school.  Further, if we are constantly playing by their rules and using their definitions of success, how can we ever be free?

Whereas last week’s articles left me feeling a bit deflated, this week’s articles reminded me that there are teachers and school leaders – most often Black women – who are working to change educational systems.  The reading that I connected with most deeply was the Bass article, When care trumps justice: the operationalization of Black feminist caring in educational leadership.   Bass’ hopeful tone stemmed from the obvious respect that she seems to have towards her participants and the work that they do.  Bass describes bringing together her participants as a forum and writes that “the participants appeared to take comfort in knowing there were other women who employed an ethic of care in their leadership and decision-making…” (78, 2012).  As such, through only a brief window, Bass’ scholarship created a sense of community and comradery that made her participants feel cared for and supported, something that feels rare in academia.  

As someone interested in how teachers become more empowered, I was especially interested in the themes of risk, resistance and spirituality that connected these readings.  As I have thought about this topic previously, it was only the sense of spirituality that took a different direction than I had considered before.  Perhaps what the authors spoke about as spirituality, I have attributed more to a feeling of connectedness and deep understanding that one’s actions are important and will make a difference.  As stated in some of the readings, this north star, when you know you are acting with integrity, love and the potential to have real impact, is more empathetic than moral, more auxiliary than performative.  I had never connected this feeling to spirituality and even less to religion previously, but now I will consider how these ideas are similar and different, and why I had been so reluctant to think of it in such a way previously.  

Lastly, though it was mentioned briefly in some readings, I was a little disheartened that the emotional toll that this work takes on educators and educator leaders was all but ignored.  This is often the case with Black women.  We are expected to stoically take on the ills of society without feeling the drain ourselves.  Many of these educators spoke about the risks that they took to fight for their students as a badge of honor, but who is looking out for them?  How long can women continue to focus only on caring for others?  Mom needs a nap. 

This week’s readings put into words the reasons behind a lot of the hopelessness that I have been feeling as a teacher of color working in a white suburb. The first idea that resonated is that our society is based on property rights as opposed to human rights and that whiteness is the most tightly defended property of all.  There are countless structural examples that point to this truth, so I don’t need to delineate them here.  However, to me, it is worth mentioning how consistently shocked I find myself with the way in which educators, administrators and parents frame education as a means of securing privilege for certain children as opposed to ensuring the wellbeing of all children.  After reading the Ladson-Billing and Tate article, I just kept wondering what a school that was built on human rights would look like and – as mentioned in the jamboard last week – whether it is even possible for an institution in our country to hold humanist values.   

Further, as a Black teacher in a white institution, I constantly find myself feeling like it’s one-step forward and two steps back.  This was beautifully explained in Dixson and Anderson’s piece as interest conversion.  This has also truly come to play in the pandemic.  Realizing that it is in their best interest to “address race,” my school like so many has created a Diversity Equity and Inclusion committee. Staffed by some well meaning history and english teachers and the few teachers of color in the district, we met twice to discuss how we can create a more inclusive community, but the only win I have seen is a Chinese author is coming to talk about her experiences.  Meanwhile, the administration leaves untouched many policies that rarify whiteness – tracking, unjust hiring and tenure practices, curriculum control by certain parents.  

My research interests are how teachers of color use their emotions to develop agency across different spaces.  This ties in with the topic of this week because sometimes, like when I think about the fact that white people only allow change to occur as far as it benefits themselves and re-entrenches whiteness, I feel so hopeless.  I just wonder – and think that it’s really important and interesting to study – how other teachers navigate their emotions as they watch institutions try to systematically reduce positive outcomes for Black people.