EDL 7030

A man may work from sun to sun...
But women's work is never done.

The Quinn article reminded me of this old adage describing the near-constant demands on women, regardless of occupation -- but particularly those women who work in a helping profession such as teaching, nursing, or counseling, or even as a homemaker. We are expected to be caretakers for our students, patients, clients, parents, children, partners, and so on. As a new mom, I am learning the great responsibility that comes with the ability to bear children. My husband is wonderful and always willing to help, but it is solely my responsibility, around the clock, to make sure my daughter is fed. I am allowed maternity leave from work, while my husband had to return almost immediately. My baby and I spent 9 months getting to know each other, before she even took her first breath. This kind of relationship is a blessing that only I have experienced with her, but also a challenging obligation, compared to the freedom and uninterrupted sleep I once had. I will forever be responsible for this child.

All of us, men and women alike, have demands put on us by occupation, society, nature, or by our own choice. Women are certainly not the only ones to suffer the strain of multiple designated roles and guidelines, but we often find ourselves with less power to change the ones we don't like. Quinn and her female students discussed the negative aspects of their daily lives as teachers, mothers, wives, and daughters, but they really didn't address the benefits and pleasures of filling these same roles. The stress they felt seemed to come not from the roles themselves, but from the energy expense of carrying out the balancing acts that are their Cosmopolitan Selves, day after day. Perhaps a more balanced exploration of the feminine experience might assist in the process of empowerment that Quinn encouraged. Knowing what and who are "for" us is as helpful as knowing what we struggle against.

marisa

Kim, I could not agree more with what you write about teachers stepping outside of their areas of comfort. This same fear can also be manifested in college teachers as well. Aa a university instructor, I try to keep abreast of technological changes, but as I try to also remain current in my two fields of study, I often find that technological pursuits take a back seat to academic interests. While this lack of technical knowledge is not intentional, I often find that I do tend to let this area of my professional development slack a little as I need to sleep occasionally. However, I have come to realize too that I will find students who do possess technical expertise that I do not have. I have to be okay with acknowledging their excellence. Probably the hardest skill I had to acquire as a teacher was the ability to say, "I do not know, but I will try to find out for you." Or, "Why don't you explain it to us."

Fear is very much alive in the classroom. While teachers' fears are certainly understandable, collaboration with others in the same group should help alleviate those fears. As a doctoral student. I entered the program very much afraid of what I did not know. However, I soon realized that others did not know some things either. We will all continue to learn throughout our lives, at least hopefully.

The Tupper and Capello article brushes a theme I also saw in the article by Angelina Weenie (yes, I'm reading slightly out of order - sorry). Both the Tupper & Cappello article (on page 561) and the Weenie article (on page 553) draw attention to a well-intentioned move to teach Aboriginal language or history. In both pieces there is a suggestion that though the desire to teach First National history and language is good that if the form of that teaching is forced into the Euro-centric positivist model of curriculum and course delivery that something is being lost. I agree with this idea, but I am left wondering in the face of such a strong paradigm, what we could do better. If traditional Native American curriculum were delivered (and I know even the word “delivered” is a vestige of the Eurocentric positivist paradigm) in traditional ways then what would be the result? I would hope that the result would be a deepening of the culture and a good foundation for its continued survival. I also believe however that time spent in this kind of experience would be considered wasted by much of Western society that values the nicely quantifiable credit hour and grade. One of the obstacles to more traditional ways of knowing, teaching and learning is capitalism. I don’t like capitalism. Capital is not alive, and yet the net result (pun intended) of capitalism is simply to build, sell and profit from the building and sale of things.

The Weenie article mentions the importance of stories, here is one of my favorites concerning the ills of capitalism. My mother-in-law and I had a heated conversation one day. She suggested to me that gold had intrinsic value. She told me that she had been watching Pat Robertson speak and that he was giving investment advice. In light of my view of Jesus’ teachings on money, I always find myself amused and also sad when I hear evangelicals talk about investments and money. My mother in law said that Pat Robertson said that the best investment right now was gold. He then quickly amended his statement by saying that of course one’s primary investment should be in God’s kingdom, but then gold. Capitalism has become our religion. My little sister who has been a student at UNC, NC State, UNC-Asheville, ASU and the University of Washington and does not yet have a single degree told me once that she had a theory about money. She said that money was infinite, and that because of this that money was positioning itself to compete against love, which is also theoretically infinite.

So ultimately I believe that if each of us can maintain a degree of humility in the face of learning that is harder for us to quantify we can play a small role in the coming paradigm shift.

Alan

Alan, I always enjoy reading anything you post because your insights get me thinking about issues from very different perspectives, but I am also glad to see that we agree on one of your final statements in the previous post: the importance of humility. I made a point in class recently that all knowledge should be treated with a great amount of tolerance. As academics, we should all be tolerant of any knowledge because any such body of knowledge possesses an equal chance of being corrrect, or valid might be a better word.. While I realize that my view leaves my assertion open to the counter claim of extreme skepticism or the accusation that "all knowlwdge is relevant," I still believe that academic research, inquisitiveness, and curosity demand this tolerance. Aristotle thought he was correct about almost everything he wrote, and of course we know that many of his ideas have been proven to be incorrect.

I also appreciate the fact that we as humans can be wrong. I always like to speak with my history students about the misguided attempts of the late mediaeval/early modern Roman Catholic Chuirch to maintain and reinforce, to the point of death, the notion of a geo-centric cosmology. Any time a person, group of people, or powerful organization believe that dogma should dominate and that any counter knowledge should be prohibnited, humility and tolerance are lost. Finally this point brings me to the Tupper and Cappello essay about teaching treaties. In my first Masters program, I had a Canadian history class in which no mention was ever made of First Nations peoples and only passing reference to the many treaties that helped to create the Canada we have today. As a young historian, I was still not accustomed to questioning the voices of those who were supposedly the "experts" of their respective fields. While I enjoyed that "graduate" class at the time, I am sure that I would not do so now as I would be continually full of questions about the lack of inclusion and the exclusivity of the dominator culture directing the course.

Just as (Weenie 2008) expressed her love and passion for the sweat lodge and the dance ceremonies of the colononialized, through a recitation of a poem, I, too, have chosen a symbolic piece in which to convey my thoughts and passion for alternative stories as well as marking my place of knowing. My contemplative and painful journey has taken me back to my ancestry. Moreover, it (my journey) has allowed me the opportunity to hear lost stories, to see treasured memorabilia, as well as to gain greater appreciation for my pedigree. Moreover, like (Weenie, 2008) the historical knowledge and understanding of my cultures’ struggle for equality has given me new-found self awareness that has had an overwhelmingly positive effect on my epistemological approach to research. Thus, the purpose of this brief exert is to share a personal, insightful, and historical narrative that segregation, integration, and assimilation has attempted to eliminate.

I begin my historical reflection with a poem by, well known poet, Langston Hughes. His poem, “I, too” symbolizes the fact that African Americans and the so-called “Other” desired a place of notoriety and acknowledgement. Next, I recapture moments from a travel study curriculum whereby I along with my student’s was allowed to “collectively witness” the untold stories about our African American heritage. These reflections are merely to relay to you (the researcher) the accounts of a people who, through a tireless effort of resistance to the dominate culture, was able to keep alive a story almost forgotten. These memories, though powerfully painful, reflect the resilience of a marginalized people and of a movement for social justice that, still today, deserves our attention.

I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well, And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.
Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--
I, too, am America.
Langston Hughes (Collection of Poems, 1994)

A Contrary Spirit: “Incorporating a New Narrative into an old Curriculum”

“It made me consider how Aboriginal educators can be incorporating more cultural concepts in their work as a way of reversing the effects of being marginalized.”
(Weenie 2008 p.554)

It was a horrible Sunday morning, on March1965, in Selma, Alabama. A host white policemen, mounted on fifteen hundred pound horses, with their tear gas canisters, whips, clubs, and guns in-hand, waited at the foot of the Pettis Bridge. Bull Connor, the crooked and openly racist Dallas County Sherriff, using a bull horn, told a group of “Freedom Marchers” to go back home and to discontinue the march. Not being denied, the “Freedom Marchers” stood their ground. As a matter of fact, these unsung heroes knelt to pray for their openly racist oppressors. It was not long after they prayed that “all hell began to break loose.”

Tear gas canisters began to explode. Gun shots rang through the air. Fifteen hundred pound horses, startled by the tear gas canisters exploding, ran uncontrollably through the crowd, trampling people with their magnificent hooves. With tear gas burning their eyes and lungs, the peaceful marchers ran hysterically back across the Pettis Bridge. Hundreds of them were wounded. Many of them were hospitalized. Several of the marchers died and many were left marred, psychologically, physically and emotionally, by the terrible cracks of the whips, and the thump of the Billy clubs, against their skulls. It was a horrible Sunday. Not only that, but it was a “Bloody Sunday.”

The aforementioned narrative was shared with me during a spring 2008 visit to Selma, Alabama. African American, civil rights activist, Joanne Bland shared openly her story of oppression and fight for social justice, as she led me on a tour through the dilapidated streets of Selma. She exposed me to some of the historic buildings and monumental sites. As we walked through the (now) silent and peaceful town of Selma, she began to open the “library of her heart.” Joanne knew all about the historic black churches and their role in the Civil Rights movement. She also knew about the monumental march across the Pettis Bridge. With tears in her eyes and passion in her voice, she vividly described that day in history. She said, “It was a bloody day; it was Bloody Sunday.”

She proceeded by informing me of all of the prominent leaders who invaded Selma, in 1965 in order to march for equal voting rights for blacks as well as other marginalized populations. She branded in my mind the images of Dr. Martin Luther King, Congressman John Lewis, and former Atlanta Mayor Andrew Young, as they all march up the Pettis Bridge, only to be beaten back across. I was floored by such detail, so after she stopped her story, I asked Joanne this question. “When you are gone, who will tell your story?”

She looked at me, with those tear-filled eyes, and said, “You will!” I will never forget the tremble in her voice and the sincerity of her heart as she charged me with the continuation of this magnificent history. I immediately felt a huge burden come over me. I began to question my impact and my ability to inform other colonialized persons’ of the prominent heritage, from whence they came. Also, how could I, a person who is a benefactor and not a participator of “Bloody Sunday” carry this message effectively?

According to (Wennie, 2008), in order to decolonialize curriculum, an individual must be willing to “sort out” or understand things in dominate culture that alienate others, particularly the English language. Instead of posing barriers, the English language should be used as a basis of understanding. Not only that, but it is important that researchers, professors, and educators continue to consider ways of incorporating more cultural concepts in their work as a way of reversing the effects of being marginalized.

This act of alternative storytelling can easily be done, if educators are willing to create the space, time, and the environment for a “pedagogy of discomfort” to occur. Citing (Zembylas & Vrasidas 2005) “pedagogy of discomfort requires individuals to step outside their comfort zones and to recognize what and how they have been taught to see or not to see.” In other words, developing a curriculum that is inclusive to others will take an intentional effort to shift ones’ thinking as well as to be willing to admit ones’ shortsightedness and narrow worldviews.

In closing, this is my own perspective on how I think educators can incorporate other stories into curriculum. There are many more alterative stories and different perspectives that have both challenged and forced me to see things differently. Just as the brief exert from Joanne’s narrative (about her struggle for civil rights) challenged me, I too, will challenge others to tell a different (their) story. Perhaps it will make me uncomfortable or it could possibly make me ashamed. Whatever the outcome, whether comfortable or not, I must continue to create room, space, and time to hear and contemplate the stories of others.

Johnny Smith
Cohort 16

Take the opportunity to check out this website listed in the article - EDGE--Education for disability and gender equity. http://www.disabilityhistory.org/dwa/edge/curriculum. It is a great site that offers lessons for high school students about how disability and gender can be a part of school curriculum. Here is an excerpt:

DISABILITY CULTURE PROFILE: Laura Hershey

Laura Hershey is a writer, poet and activist. She has been involved in grass-roots organizing around issues like disabled women's leadership opportunities, in-home attendant services, criticizing the Jerry Lewis Telethon, opposition to assisted suicide, and lesbian/gay rights. Her writing often reflects both her activism, and her identity as a proud disabled woman.

Below is one of Hershey's poems, called "You Get Proud by Practicing."

YOU GET PROUD BY PRACTICING

If you are not proud
for who you are, for what you say, for how you look;
if every time you stop
to think of yourself, you do not see yourself glowing
with golden light; do not, therefore, give up on yourself.
You can
get proud.

You do not need
a better body, a purer spirit, or a Ph.D.
to be proud.
You do not need
a lot of money, a handsome boyfriend, or a nice car.
You do not need
to be able to walk, or see, or hear,
or use big, complicated words,
or do any of the things that you just can't do
to be proud. A caseworker
cannot make you proud,
or a doctor.
You only need
more practice.
You get proud
by practicing.

There are many many ways to get proud.
You can try riding a horse, or skiing on one leg,
or playing guitar,
and do well or not so well,
and be glad you tried
either way.
You can show
something you've made
to someone you respect
and be happy with it no matter
what they say.
You can say
what you think, though you know
other people do not think the same way, and you can
keep saying it, even if they tell you
you are crazy.
You can add your voice
all night to the voices
of a hundred and fifty others
in a circle
around a jailhouse
where your brothers and sisters are being held
for blocking buses with no lift,
or you can be one of the ones
inside the jailhouse,
knowing of the circle outside.
You can speak your love
to a friend
without fear.
You can find someone
who will listen to you
without judging you or doubting you or being
afraid of you and let you hear yourself perhaps
for the first time.
These are all ways
of getting proud.
None of them
are easy, but all of them
are possible. You can do all of these things,
or just one of them again and again.
You get proud
by practicing.

Power makes you proud, and power
comes in many fine forms
supple and rich as butterfly wings.
It is music
when you practice opening your mouth
and liking what you hear
because it is the sound of your own
true voice.
It is sunlight
when you practice seeing
strength and beauty in everyone
including yourself.
It is dance
when you practice knowing
that what you do
and the way you do it
is the right way for you
and can't be called wrong.
All these hold
more power than weapons or money
or lies.
All these practices bring power, and power
makes you proud.
You get proud
by practicing.

Remember, you weren't the one
who made you ashamed,
but you are the one
who can make you proud.
Just practice,
practice until you get proud, and once you are proud,
keep practicing so you won't forget.
You get proud
by practicing.

Melanie

This article caused me to question several things, I would love some feedback from our group on what you think about these questions. Does the elimination of Art, Music and the fine arts have an effect on students with disabilities? I think so because these are course where standard assessment does not occur and free expression is the course design. Also, can you remember ever studying anyone with a disability besides Helen Keller and FDR? In today's digital society, I think we should look at and critic how the media portrays people with disabilities. These stereotypes should be broken, along with stereotypes about color and gender. The only way to break the cycle is to educate individuals to think critically about what is being said and what is unsaid. And lastly, how can the state curriculum be redesigned to be reflective of what Erevelles has brought to our attention? I see some of the things we are doing like changing assessments and redefining standards in a broader sense as moving in the direction, but is it enough?

Melanie

I am not sure if I can adequately comment on this essay as I believe myself to be so close to the emotions associated with disabilites. I suppose that this inability to comment in a sufficient manner may make me appear unprofessional, but so be it. Reading Erevelles brings back so many memories to me about the lack of any curriculum to address any of the needs I had in my 12 years in the public schools. When I was about three months old, the opthamologist told my mother that only time would tell if I would be able to attend public schools or the School for the Blind in Raleigh. He told her that my degree of intelligence would make all of the difference. My mother kept the doctor's observation in her heart all of those early years, even not telling my father. When it became obvious that I would be successful immersed in public education, a burden was lifted from my mother's heart, but the struggle for me was only beginning.

While I was very fortunate not to be like Peter, the young man in the essay, I still had to face many challenges daily in the classsroom, and looking back, it was obvious that my teachers, who were trained in the 1950s and 1960s, had no idea as to how to accommodate me in their lesson plans. I was on my own! Had I not been blessed with a quick mind and willing spirit, I would not have been successful. The williing spirit came from my mother's teachings, so she gets the credit for much of my success.

In some ways, I am glad that I had to be resourceful in gaining my education as I think that my endeavours made me a much stronger person. I also realize though that different levels of abilities and disabilities require curricula to address these needs. I am dismayed though about the current state of curricula to address disabilities as Everelles points out in her essay. Hopefully, I will have some more professional thoughts to add with my next post.

Joel

Why do we avoid looking into the shadows? I believe that it is largely due to discomfort and perhaps even fear of what we think is lurking there. The unseen and/or misunderstood is often a source of anxiety and fear and so delegating it to the shadows allows us to invoke the "out of site, out of mind" approach. What is found in the spotlight is the usual- the normal if you will- and is comfortable and familiar. Erevelles points out that those in the shadows are often denied even a conversation about their being in the shadows and thus are rendered invisible.

I wonder if we could put aside our discomfort and fear and look into the shadows what we would find? I am certain we would find other human beings, more like ourselves than we think, with wonderful gifts and hearts and minds full of life and love. If we could take a critical look, as Erevelles suggests, we would find they can contribute to learning and life just as others. But to do this we have to address our own fears and invoke the courage to move the spotlight; or better yet just turn off the spotlight and turn on the overhead lights to illuminate all the shadows.

Christy

In reading this article I was reminded of the movie the Soloist, which I hope eveyone in our cohort gets the opportunity to view. As a special ed teacher for many years, I have found it so intersting how teachers, parents, and even students view disabilities. One of my young students had CP, was hearing and visually impaired and at the age of 3-5 (his ages when I had him) fought everyday to look and act normal. He would fight to rip off his leg supports. He would pull off his Kochler (sp?) implant to hid it from others to see. At his young age he know what it was like to be "not-normal". I fought hard to help him reach the goals he wanted. Like Joel, he had the spirit to thrive.

As a mother of a daughter who had special needs, her teachers from Kindergarten through high school would not consider her with a disability even when her grades were hurting. The teachers did not have the skills to recognize her struggles. I had to take charge and get testing done outside of the school system to get the answers I know where there.

I guess my true thoughts on this topic is based on the movie, The Soloist. Of all the disabilities that schools encounter I feel that mental illness is the most ignored of all the disabilities. Like the soloist, this populations struggles privately, especially as the disease begins to surface and becomes evident. However, most family members and physicans cannot put their finger on it. In fact, most people who suffer form weight issues to physical disabilities also suffer from mental anquish and that is the part that, I feel, does the biggest damage. This behavior usually shows up in the class as behavioral issues and withdrawel. It is the biggest diability because it can be so silent but yet so damaging to the total wholeness of the student. My daughter, who was diagnosed as delexia, attention defficet-non hyper, also fought and continues to fight depression from the years of knowing she was not normal and struggling to live in a normal world. Her energy was used to mask and hide her inner struggles.

For students with all kinds of disabilities, life is extra hard, harder than our crazy and frustrating lives are. To add to this, the cruelty of peer pressure, creates multiple problems. I am so happy that Dr. Jackson brought this article forward for our cohort to read. I would challenge all educational leaders to strive to be an advocate to students with disabilities.

As a counselor, I feel I should chat a bit about the Freudian comparison of the id to the super ego when Erevelles refers to it in his article. I do think he's stretching the concept a bit. In his reference to the African-American culture, he signifies it as pleasure-seeking a way of life that must be repressed in order to appear more like the super ego in Euro-American subjects. I'm not sure if I buy into this thinking in so far as I have never thought of African-American being a wild, pleasure-seeking group but then again I have never thought about stereo typing an entire culture or group. With that said, it does not surprise me that researchers find that many Americans do have this prejudicial thinking going on. (Perhaps the entire world may be viewing Euro-Americans this way and thus, the anger. I have never thought about Euro-Americans as being super ego but yes, Through the lens of media, I can see how super egos of the group does feel "entiled" and "with it" socially, mentally, financially, etc. as though their super ego"ness" is right on the mark. (Pretty sad). Can't we all just take the middle ground and be an ego (recognizing that we are not perfect but striving toward perfection).

What do the rest of you think about this comparison: the id and the super ego?

When talking about people with disabilities, I wonder who we are really talking about. I realize it is easy for us to view people who "look" different as the ones that have varied disabilities. I also know that there are students who have disabilities in regards to how they learn. But I question the whole idea of disability. For those of us in the "norm", are we really all put together in a neat little package with no issues on our plates? I contend the answer to that is NO. Maybe... we are disabled in a way as well. Maybe not physically, but perhaps we have a disability in how to accomodate what these students need. Maybe we are disabled by our fear of not truly understanding what these students need and how to help them in a way they need. What if we realized that we are disabled because we have a hard time getting past the outside "package" of a student that we look at everyday.

Would it be possible for us to take a good, hard look at ourselves and admit that when working with disabled students, we could be just as disabled as they are???

Kim

I agree with you Marisa. I see the word "disabled" in several different ways. One, defines perhaps a physical or mental ailment that must be addressed in order to help a student progress. I do not take these limitations lightly. They can at times be profound, and they deserve our respect and attention to how to help the individual.

I also think we are all in a way disabled in our thinking. Maybe that is how I should have put it. We are at times, unable to find ways or go beyond our comfort zones in order to help others. We have our own barriers and I think this disables us in a way.

Kim

Yes... I agree with you Melanie that taking art, music, etc. out does a disservice to many. Not only to students with physical and mental disabilities, but also to students whos gifts lie somewhere outside of academia. How shallow our lives would be if we were only enriched by those things academic or knowledge oriented. If we look around our houses, structures inside and outside of buildings... building themselves... we will find the value and beauty of those things created by people with these true talents.

As far as curriculum goes... paying attention to how we assess students is crucial but also how we assess and value what they do on a day to day basis within the classroom. If a student produces a product that is outside the "norm" or looks different, is that not ok? Does that mean they are not learning? For me, it goes back to what we have grown accustomed to and what we are comfortable with. If we could just break out of the chains that bind us...

Kim

Erevelles points out that "disabled children and adults continue to be segregated in the school, workplace, and community. This physical absence from non-segregated social settings further exacerbates their experience of invisibility" (p.429.)

While I understand that segregation for educational purposes (ie. learning Braille or Sign language) is sometimes necessary, it is true that because of this separation, many children rarely, if ever, interact with a person with a (severe) disability. If children began interacting with people of all abilities at an early age, would it increase their comfort level as adults?

I once worked as a teacher at a small, highly-rated day care. Children who were at-risk or had special needs were given priority admission status, and were incorporated into the classroom seamlessly. We had one child with severe physical and mental disabilities who was nonverbal and had to be strapped into a specially-designed chair when he was not being held. He required lots of therapy, but the therapists came into the classroom among the other children to work with him. His classmates, all one to three years old, were great with him, playing, holding conversations, and hugging him all the time. To them, he was no different than any of the other children. It was wonderful to watch! I can only hope that these children will keep their minds open and will continue to treat others equally. Unfortuntately, I'm afraid that most prejudice and fear is learned through interactions with a prejudiced and fearful society. Maybe these kids are the start of a new understanding that could be reinforced with a curriculum that is more inclusive of the stories of people with all abilities. How can today's educational system support the continuation of this process of "integration" and acceptance, so that everyone is visible who chooses to be?

marisa

It happened 53 years ago, when the parents of a little, black girl in Topeka, Kansas decided that they wanted their daughter to attend a predominately, white neighborhood school. Even though Brown, a black - third grader, lived only seven blocks away from a white elementary school, she was unable to attend. Instead, she had to walk one mile away from her home, in order to attend her predominately black school.

Outraged and rightfully so, Linda’s father, Oliver Brown, attempted to enroll his daughter in the mostly white school; however, due to the color of her skin, she was still not admitted. Oliver immediately turned to Thurgood Marshall and the NAACP for legal assistance. Marshall, a black attorney, had taken on the government before, but not in this magnitude. With the NAACP on his side and with the support of 12 other parents who wanted their children to attend the mostly white school, Marshall filed a class action suit against the Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas.

Needless to say, on May 17, 1954, the U.S. Supreme Court unanimously ruled in favor of Marshall, citing that “separate but equal” was unconstitutional. This ruling, not only opened the door of education for a little girl in Topeka, Kansas, but it put a wedge in the door for women, the differently-able, as well as other minorities. Furthermore, this piece of legislation set the stage for integrating minorities into main stream educational institutions everywhere.

The mention of the Brown v. Board of Education case serves as critical backdrop when discussing the parallelism between being culturally defined as “Black”, in the mid 1950s, and one who is considered “disabled” in today’s society. Borrowing from (Evevelles 2005) article, “Understanding curriculum as normalizing text: disability studies meet curriculum theory”, my attempt in the reflection is to wield the giant spotlight of attention to issues of exclusion and invisibility surrounding the untold and overtly neglected story of disabled studies in curriculum. It appears that the spotlight has not been shown upon disabled citizens. Moreover, these individuals and their issues are often lost in the shadows of the spotlight. Even worse, if not intentionally, mainstream society has left this minority group out of its’ literature, Block- buster movies, television commercials, and most hurtful, out of its’ view.

As an African American male, I often hear my white friends say to me, “Johnny, when I look at you, I do not see color.” I know what they are saying, however, I know that this statement is not completely true; neither do I want it to be. This kind of “not seeing” is what prevents individuals from asking deeper questions and seeking understanding about that in which they do not know. Castenell and Pinar (1993:4) contend that ‘we are what we know. We are, however, what we do not know.’ For this reason, I believe society chooses not to acknowledge these differences, mainly out of fear. Also, it is a suspicion of mine and according to (Murphy 1987) “the able- bodied community, when looking at the differently-able community is reminded of the suffering and inequities and that they live in a counterfeit paradise. They, too, are vulnerable.”

Instead, of embracing those inherent differences, many have chosen the route of invisibility or this act of “non seeing”. However, just as my friends can’t help but to see my black skin and become aware of the different narrative it tells, so must able-bodied society also acknowledge and seek to understand the differently-able. This business of omission and exclusion of the disabled population must cease. The differently able can’t be put into a category or social division that keeps them from participating as value, contributing citizens of society. Gone, and rightfully so, are the days and attitudes of disabled citizens when they(disabled citizens) would take the governmental aids such as social services, social security, and welfare payments in exchange for a “bribe of silence.”

In closing, just as Linda Brown’s parents did in a battle for equality and justice, so likewise researchers, leaders, and classroom facilitators must give a voice of justice to the physically, mentally, and emotionally oppressed, which are deemed as differently able or in today’s vernacular “at risk”. Moreover, educators must explore alternative ways to support and value differently able citizens. As a Critical Theorist, I am advocating for a curriculum that embraces“pedagogy of discomfort” and that will foster hope and support for the marginalized, while in turn, encourages understanding and consideration from those in dominant roles. Only then, will our society see the disabled as social worthy citizens.

Johnny Smith
Cohort 16

This week I am reminded of how selfishly normal my educational experience has been. I was never at the top or bottom rung...just middle of the road enough to have every choice and access to whatever experience I wanted to pursue. Somehow, though, students just like me (just like us) are cheated. We are excluded from experiencing the joy of watching special needs kids achieve and overcome and we are lulled into believing that our circles are somehow complete when really they are broken and self-centered. The truth is, disability scares me a little and breaks my heart a lot. I don't always know what to say and what to expect because I've been so excluded from living real life, side by side, with people persevering and overcoming challenges I wouldn't have the strength to endure for a day.

I've been challenged a lot in these past weeks. Challenged to add the stories of the marginalized, the faces of the minority, and the heart of the disabled to my pedagogy - not just in the classroom but in my daily life.

Wow. It is so interesting for me to see "things from the other side" so to speak. As a kid in public schools, I always wanted to be "normal." In many aspects I was, but when it came to sports, I was always the last to be chosen and no one wanted me on his or her team. I understood why at the time, but still it hurt. Still, I am glad that my mother did not try to shelter me. From a very young age, she made it clear that I did have a disability, but still I was strong in other areas. She encouraged me and explained to me all about my medical condition.

One school memory really stands out in my mind. In the eighth grade we were practicing basketball skills. Of course I was not good, but I could hit some shots occasionally. Well I missed an important one and some of the guys in the class booed me. The coach, who also taught history, said something like well the next time some of you fail another test, I am going to let Joel stand up and boo you. I don't know if his comment made any difference as to how those other students saw me, but I do know that it solidified in my mind that I did have skills others did not possess.

So in some strange way, I have mixed feelings about curricula that perhaps does not allow for students to overcome their own challenges. I know that I am not expressing this idea clearly, but I want students to become strong in their own ways. By not over protecting me, my mother made me grow strong and figure things out for myself. I am not saying that disability studies should be neglected, but I think an overriding factor in this field shoud be that individual strengths should be recognized, applauded, and encouraged.

Joel

I am glad that Diane reminded me of the observation made by Erevelles concerning African-Americans. I too had made a note about his description of African-Americans. Any time we start stereotyping any group of people, we will have misunderstandings, miscommunications, and malignant musings. It is so easy for any group of people to think that their observations and ways of looking at the world are correct. While I am not qualified to speak too authoritatively about the id and super ego, I think that Diane is correct in her observations about western European society. To some extent, Europeans and Americans still have a colonial mentality in that the rest of the world is somehow not as important or dignified or capable of making their own cultural and moral decisions. One only has to read history to see that this is certainly not the case.

Joel

I agree that disabled can be explained and understood in many ways, but the entire time I was reading Erevelles' essay, I could not help but to think of John Lennon's song "Crippled Inside" from the 1971 Imagine album. I suppose to a point that we are all crippled inside, perhaps some of us more than others, but as the song says "you just can't hide when you're cripled inside." I also make a refernce to Johnny's post about Brown vs. Board of Education. Clearly anyone who lets prejudice guide his or her life is crippled and deformed. In no way am I trying to take away from those who are mentally and physically handicapped. I think my point is this: we all have areas in our lives we need to work on.