“Critique is understood as an interrogation of the terms by which life is constrained in order to open up the possibility of different modes of living; in other words, not to celebrate difference as such but to establish more inclusive conditions for sheltering and maintaining life that resist models of assimilation.” Judith Butler
Throughout this entire course, I’ve felt a bit like the stand-by devil’s advocate. I have questioned my own thinking (about the way we constrain or compartmentalize life), had explosive reactions to the tone and content of some of the studies we’ve read (open up to possibilities), and have—fairly consistently—either disagreed with my classmates’ responses to the text or had a very different take on the readings. I tend to be a rather opinionated woman, which did not change over the course of this semester. However, my opinions have begun to shift slightly.
I am a twenty-six year old white female who has been fully assimilated into Southern culture, the Christian church, and a core value system based on life within the socioeconomic middle class. However, I am also a woman who has been raised to understand the value of education, of celebrating individuality & group dynamics, and is learning to step beyond the boundaries set by her childhood. So, perhaps, I’m learning to “resist models of assimilation” as Butler mentions in the above quote.
I’ve broken my understanding into three sections, using Butler’s quote. So in order to de-compartmentalize my understandings of race, class, and gender in literacy learning, I am going to compartmentalize my thoughts. Irony, at its finest.
“…interrogation of the terms by which life is constrained…”
Butler uses the word “interrogation” which I believe to be an apt descriptor of what we were asked to do in the course. Much of what we read was about topics that could be socially explosive. At times, I felt myself reacting with hostility toward what I perceived to be judgmental language on behalf of the researcher, specifically with Dowdy. At first, I was so annoyed by her word choice and ongoing hostilities about her educational experience, that I missed out on the beautiful concepts she was sharing with us. Perhaps my annoyance was the perfect place to start my journey into deeper understanding of language.
Initially, I saw language as a tool to get things done and communicate with others. Dowdy—while pushing my buttons—helped me realize that language is either a tool of subjugation or a tool of power. As a classroom teacher, my job is to respect the home language or mother tongue of my students, as this language ties directly into their family structure and social values. I have been guilty of having Spanish speaking students “chain their tongues” (p. 10) in my classroom, being annoyed by their chatter and the fact that I perceive them to be off task and sometimes disrespectful. Dowdy helped me see that my language may be the standard mode of language in my work and home communities, but that doesn’t make it the language all should use all of the time.
I appreciated that Baker not only spoke to teachers about interrogating how life is constrained, but taught her students to do so, as well, in a way that helped them find an internal drive to explore their own language. She encouraged self-exploration as a platform for learning about different modes of discourse (“formal” and “professional” English.) Delpit suggests that acquiring additional codes comes “from identifying with the people who speak it, from connecting the language form with all that is self-affirming and esteem building, inviting and fun” (p. 39). Baker gave us practical applications and suggestions of how to help students do this in our classrooms. I needed encouragement that I wasn’t a horribly out of touch teacher; Baker provided such.
As I began to analyze my own classroom instruction, I saw patterns of social constraint that were being relegated by social institutions more powerful than I. Henry, on page 241 of her research, explains that school is traditionally all about the teacher. Students are programmed to learn the facts we deem most important, minimally process them, and then spit out what they’ve learned. I am guilty of encouraging this type of instruction at times in my classroom. However, I think the issues stretches beyond room 705. Our public educational system is, in fact, market-driven, as Hicks says. We are constantly being bombarded with needs to push beyond and learn the basics. There is little time left to build relationships and get to know the specifics of each child. In order to become more successful teachers, I wonder if we will need to become more and more resistant of the existing middle-class structured educational system.
“…open up to the possibility of different modes of living…”
I am blessed to teach in a school that is ethnically and socioeconomically diverse. So I have had four years worth of experience working with students who struggle to make connections with one another, as their lives are so drastically different from each other. However, I had never thought of the ways my own upbringing influenced by classroom.
As I read the first articles by Dowdy & Delpit, I thought back to my senior year in high school when I was made aware of my “country bumpkin” status by a panel of urbanites sitting on a scholarship panel. Up until that point in my life, I had not realized that there were multiple ways of doing things—beyond the ways I experienced every day. I appreciate what Hicks says about her research on page 154, I believe it sums up my self-discovery during this course about different modes of living: “This is not so much a set of general theories about “what works” for working class children (or girls, boys, Latino children, etc.) rather it is an effort to learn this community, this neighborhood, this family.”
I am beginning to see that there is no clear cut right or wrong for any socially constructed group of people. There are tons of different modes for living, which we can slowly add to our existing understandings, when given time to enjoy and recognize these differences (Dowdy & Delpit).
What struck me most about the possibilities of lifestyles, was the varied ways in which students made sense of their worlds that had either very little or a great deal to do with the way they were treated in school. Sometimes I get a bit high & mighty and have the tendency to see myself as a demi-god for my students. They don’t need a demi-god. They need a supportive person who will affirm their modes of living and offer them views of other options. All of the students and/or groups that were written about during the course found themselves primarily without the help of an educator. The difficulties came when attempting to switch between the individual they were at home, to the one they “needed to be” at school—whether the good girl in the case of Laurie or the smart one, who needed to blend in the case of Delpit’s daughter. Our job is to help aid this transitionary process, in a way that celebrates each person.
I appreciated Henry’s summation of the role of voice, that voice offers power within the home living situation for children. I need to find more ways to allow students to utilize their voice at school in healthy, authentic ways. I want our classroom to become one in which students are actively involved in working toward what they perceive to be social justices. For example, the Lost Boys used storytelling to figure out their cultural identities, and then struck out to use this cultural art form as a mean for social change. Their modes of living changed drastically, but they were able to thrive during the change. I should be doing more to equip to students for their real lives—both the ones they live now and the ones they will likely face as adults.
“…establish more inclusive conditions…resist models of assimilation.”
I think I’ve included some information about inclusive conditions in the paragraphs above. However, I realize that there are some concrete changes I wish to implement in my thinking and in my instructional practice.
I want our classroom to become a place where learning is fun & welcoming (Delpit), where learning about language is a non-threatening celebration of lives (Baker, Ladson-Billings), and where the curriculum being taught is one that is both socially relevant and applicable for adult lives (Henry & Noll). I realize that I am an outspoken woman who sometimes feels like she knows the right answer. However, I am seeing that the “right answer” might not be the same for all students. My goal shouldn’t be to produce cookie cutter kids, but rather children who understand thinking process, the power of multiple modes of discourse, and students who see reading as a purposeful and meaningful activity.
At times during the course, I’ve been frustrated by my responses to the reading—either because I felt I was being judgmental or that I was being judged. However, I believe Hicks’ quote from the chapters 3 & 4 section of the text may be the most influential take-away from this course. She says, “Teaching, like research, involves situated readings of students. We read students’ lives in ways that draw on our own histories as learners” (p 56). My goal is to draw on my own history, without forcing my specific history on my students.
I am a work in progress. I realize that I continue to fall short in some areas, but I am aware of these short-comings and willing to consider alternative viewpoints and practices. Responsive education will happen in my classroom.
I have appreciated the struggle—both emotionally and academically—of the course readings and discussion. I have known since high school, when my parents and I got into fights about interracial dating, that I have some social advocate in my soul. This awareness continues to grow as I build meaningful relationships with students whose backgrounds are drastically different from my own. I want to keep learning so that I can keep fighting for the kids that I love!
Have a wonderful summer ladies. I’ve enjoyed it.