Challenging Preconceptions

I think both of the readings for this week focus on the common thread of challenging students preconceptions through the use of multiple and multimedia texts.  Students do most of their learning outside of the classroom and thus bring with them to school a multitude of opinions about varying areas of academia.  It is much more important to confront and challenge these opinions than to allow them to sit untested.  This approach teaches students the valuing of challenging the status quo and questions what is accepted as truth within their communities.  This also carries school learning into the home and community, strengthening the bond between these areas of learning.

Having their opinions challenged can be a painful struggle for some students but the benefits they can potentially receive from this endeavor are far greater than any discomfort.  The classroom should be a safe place where a student can feel safely challenged.

Time for Writing

Tom Romano’s and Donald Murray’s chapters on writing both made me think back to my earliest academic writing experiences, in elementary school. When I was in second grade, my small, rural public school began a system that they called, creatively enough, “Writer’s Notebooks.” Basically, everyone had to buy a notebook, and they had to write in it. That was pretty much the whole thing. I don’t think there were many requirements to the project–as I recall, we simply had to write, and from time to time the teacher would collect the notebooks to see how we were doing. If we had written something we wanted to keep private, we could fold the page over (I remember thinking “yeah, right,” and watching what I wrote on folded pages too, but still, the option was there). In short, the only goal was to get us writing. When we got the notebook back, there’d be maybe a few spelling corrections, but mostly just reactions to the small events of our second grade lives, and questions to push us furtheron our topics.

I guess they liked the results, because the program continued through the rest of my time at the school. The school began provided the notebooks, which would we decorate at the beginning of the year. We were supposed to write for 20 minutes in class, anything at at all, progressing to 30 minutes as we got older. We were supposed to do the same at home every night. I found I loved doing this. I started off in second grade writing about my day to day life, my ideas for the future, etc, but from third grade on discovered that I loved writing stories and poems. I don’t think I would have the interest I have in writing as an adult if not for this early, forced daily work. It would not have occurred to me, as an eight or nine year old, to make time to write, so my teachers did it for me.

This seems to me to be exactly what Romano and Murray recommend in their essays. From Romano, to write constantly and to write everything, in order to become comfortable working in diverse genres. And Murray, right in his opening, forcues on simply making the time to write, unplanned and comfortably. This seems so obvious–how are we to know what interests us if we cannot explore, and how are we to become comfortable with different tones if we are always trapped in a single, academic form? Further, how are we to think of writing as a means of communication, of expression, if we only ever encounter it as a rote task, a way to respond to basic questions?

And yet, when I think beyond my elementary school years, to middle and high school, and then to the middle and high school classrooms I observe now, and even to some of my own college classes, it is so rare that older students are simply given time to write. Why is this? Students do not naturally lose creativity or curiosity and they get older unless they are taught to. But after elementary school, the only times that I remember being given the space to simply write were a couple elective courses late in high school. During my observations now, a few years later, I have never seen students given time to write, or assigned daily journaling. This confounds me, because it seems like an equally important, if not more important, time to be writing. If, as children, we are exploring, then as adolescents we are discovering. We are getting a hold on our own voices, on who we want to be and what we want to do as we reach adulthood. Therefore, this is an essential time to be developing a strong writing voice–but where is the space to do that? Perhaps I’m mistaken, and it is just my limited experiences that make me think students no longer have the kind of required free-writes I had as a child. But if not–why? Why does this open reading and writing space disappear when it’s needed most? Is it a lack of time due to test preparation, or basic skill reinforcement? Could twenty minutes be found to work on something that helps even nervous students get comfortable with the basic process of writing, of not worrying about errors? I know this would’ve helped me in middle and high school.

 

 

Writing to Create Meaning

At the beginning of this course we talked about who considered themselves readers and writers. I said I was a reader, but not a writer. And yet I write everyday! It seems a little silly in some ways. But part of what we talked about that first class was intention when you read and write, that being purposeful and thoughtful were what ‘made it count.’ I don’t completely agree with that statement when it comes to reading, but I think it’s huge in writing. I wrote papers for school and notes to myself, but nothing that mattered much to me. I was focused much more on the ideas I was writing about than using writing as a process to find meaning.

Now, halfway through the semester, I would call myself a writer (albeit, not a particularly good one). The reason for this change is that I’ve really been forced to use many different styles of writing quite regularly. I have to write blog posts every class for two of my courses. I never know what I could possibly have to say until I sit down and slowly find myself responding. I have to write a one to two page analysis paper every week for my religion class and every two weeks I get a new creative assignment to slave over in my english class. Then I have the typical larger papers due around midterms and finals! What I’m constantly finding is that writing is incredibly difficult for me. And what I’ve found most true–particularly in the english class–is that writing is how I find meaning. I can’t possibly find what I’m grasping at until I hit upon a word that seems to capture something that I didn’t even know I was trying to say. And that just leads to more words that take me somewhere–often somewhere completely different from where I thought I thought I might go.

My point is that the chapters in our textbook this week really resonated with me because they stressed how the process of writing–which can really only be taught by someone who participates in the writing process regularly–is really what creates meaning. That means meaning in the content of what’s being said, but also in the concepts and presentations used to express it. I think that’s what makes writing such a good tool in the classroom. It just naturally evokes meaning of all kinds that we can always use to examine and learn.

Creating Critical Bridges and Demystifying Writing

In her article, “Dear Tupac, you speak to me’: Recruiting Hip Hop as curriculum at a school for Pregnant and Parenting Teens,”  Heidi L. Hallman describes the importance of incorporating out-of-school literacies within in-school assignments. Hallman explains that use of these out-of-school literacies can help students see literacy as “a tool for social action rather than as merely a decontexualized skill set”(38). I really appreciated the ways that Bob (the teacher in the article) used hip hop in his English class, letting the song lyrics serve as a “critical bridge” that made writing more approachable and personally relevant for his students. Bob incorporated something his students knew well, and used their deep knowledge of hip hop as inspiration for meaningful writing assignments.

The chapters about writing in Adolescent Literacy also offer ways to make writing more accessible for students. I love the idea of creating a “telling board” as a way of working out a story or essay before writing a first draft- what a great way to get ideas out on paper! In the chapter “Teaching Writing from the Inside,” the author claims that all students she know that “language is a mighty ally that stands within them”(170). I love this idea, and really appreciate the way writing is portrayed as something that all students have the power to create. I think it is important for teachers to give students assignments that allow them to express themselves creatively through writing, making them aware of “the surprise and discovery that accompanies working with words”(169).

Last week, I participated in a panel discussion at the Writing Center called “Why Writing Matters.” A lot of the ideas about writing discussed in these chapters also came up in this Writing Center discussion. The first question asked during the panel was “What is the role of writing in your development as a thinker?” I answered that writing helps me to more clearly understand, to work through my thoughts and ideas. I also said that being confused is a big part of my writing process, and that I find that confusion is invaluable. It is through struggling to clarify my thoughts that I discover what I really want to say! I think it is important for teachers to reflect on their own writing practices, and to share their confusion and challenges with their students. This openness about writing can help “pull back the curtain” and demystify the writing process, helping students become more confident and daring in their efforts to strengthen their writing skills.

Bringing Non-Academic Literacies into the Classroom

In “Dear Tupac,” Heidi Hallman illustrates an interesting alternative to teaching “at-risk” students. She emphasizes the need to incorporate out-of-class literacies into the academic curriculum. Hallman provides a powerful example of students from a school for pregnant and parenting teens who use hip-hop to practice and improve literacy skills. While I find her argument salient, especially when considering the marginalization and degradation (academic as well as societal) of teen parents, she doesn’t address too deeply a fundamental issue: academic literacy.
In my opinion, Bob Schaefer’s approach, or at least what Hallman reports of it, is not as academically inclined as it should be. The students do have an opportunity to improve their writing skills through journal writing, narrative writing and poetry, but Hallman makes it seem like these exercises are designed more for therapeutic purposes than for academic purposes. While I completely agree that students labeled as “at-risk” youth deserve the opportunity to learn and express themselves in ways more easily afforded to other students, basic skills are still necessary. It is important for students of all levels to “investigate their individual agency,” but they must also be equipped with the knowledge necessary to succeed in school and beyond. Certainly, we must be careful to not drill basic skills and rote memorization into these students’ heads. It is unfortunate that arbitrary standards are what teachers are forced to focus on in the classroom, but sadly, it is what ensures academic and future success.

I think hip-hop is valuable in that it allows students to engage with the things they’re interested in and are most familiar with. But bringing out-of-class literacies and technologies into the classroom also has the potential to be distracting. I don’t mean to impugn the value that out-of-school literacies present. They are of extreme importance when it comes to drawing students into their own learning. But in my opinion, academic learning should still be a central part of the curriculum. In no way do I mean to discredit the value of what Hallman is encouraging teachers to practice. I just wish she had clarified more specifically what was being done to prepare these students for more fulfilling and promising futures beyond school.

Eastview School for Pregnant and Parenting Teens

I found the article “’Dear Tupac, you speak to me’: Recruiting Hip Hop as Curriculum at a School for Pregnant and Parenting Teens”, not only interesting because of its ideas for an English class curriculum, but also because of the school itself. I agree that using hip hop can be a great tool for students to identify with themselves, culture, and society in a way that is very meaningful. I have read about other teachers who try to incorporate hip hop into reading and writing and for the most part, it seems to be a successful tactic. However, I have never before heard of a school that is only for pregnant and parenting teens. I think the concept of this school is a great idea. It creates a safe space for these girls who have all gone through similar experiences and are motivated enough to further their education. Many girls drop out of school when they are pregnant or after giving birth due to struggles with finding daycare, getting harassed by peers, and having nobody with shared experiences to relate to. All these girls have the ability to achieve academic success, but there are so many barriers standing in their way that they lose all hope. This school solves all those problems. Using hip hop as a source of getting in touch with the students’ “authentic voice” and bridging out-of-school and in-school learning was definitely beneficial to these girls, but I think the atmosphere of the school itself is also a huge factor in their academic achievement. Without this safe space, the girls may not have been comfortable sharing their personal stories in their raps, poems, and songs.

Pop Culture in the Classroom

The reading that resonated with me most this week was ““Dear Tupac, you speak to me”: Recruiting Hip Hop as Curriculum at a School for Pregnant and Parenting Teens” by Heidi L. Hallman. I think that this reading demonstrates that pop culture literacy is inappropriately undervalued in educational settings. In education classes, we read a lot about the difficulties of connecting with students and engaging them with the course material. In this article, Hallman’s examination of “out-of-school” literacies demonstrates that not only should elements of pop culture be incorporated into the classroom, but they can also serve as effective and creative modes of entry into the curriculum.  I was particularly interested in how being able to write about Hip Hop songs and artists inspired the pregnant and parenting teens to express their own feelings and stories through verse and prose; the songs that spoke to the students seemed to serve as better models for self-reflection than a form of traditional in-school literacy, such as a textbook or one of the novels in the educational literary canon.

The connection between Hip Hop and autobiographical expression also reminded me of an English class I took last semester on Jay-Z, which was called “Shawn Carter: Autobiography of an Autobiographer.”  This class marked my first experience in which out-of-school literacies, which I did not have, were valued over in-school literacies. Although I felt out of my element through much of the semester, I learned about the connection between Hip Hop and identity and developed a better understanding and appreciation for rap lyrics and artistry. I also witnessed the high level of engagement and participation that results from allowing students to employ their pop culture knowledge in a classroom setting. I found the class discussions to be both provocative and highly relevant; they seemed like more advanced and academic versions of conversations my friends and I were having. Learning about Hip Hop also gave me new tools for expressing my own identity and prompted me to conceptualize my  autobiography in a different way.

Although I grew tremendously as a writer and listener in the class on Jay-Z, it didn’t occur to me that high school students might also benefit from a course that employs Hip Hop music until I mentioned the class to one of the senior high school students in the classroom that I observe. He was so excited about the prospect of taking an entire course on his favorite rapper that he told me that he would apply to Vassar with the solely based on that class. It was exciting to see a student become passionate simply about potential course content. I think that my experience with the student, in addition to Hallman’s article, demonstrates that if educators crossed the line between in-school and out-of-school literacies and brought pop culture into the classroom, it would open up the curriculum and student involvement in new and exciting ways.

Encouragement and Writing

The readings this week about writing resonated pretty poignantly with my own experience. Reading them, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own history with writing, since the authors we read were all so passionate about their relationships to the craft.

In 6th grade, I was a crybaby. My mom is an immigrant who went from Iran to Boston for college; my dad is the son of an Iranian doctor. Both of them put an enormous amount of pressure on me as a child to succeed—get A’s, impress my teachers. Long, excruciating hours were spent at night at our dinner table when my dad got home, during which he drilled me incessantly on how to carry out math problems that I couldn’t care less about. Though I love my dad deeply, he isn’t perfect—patience, in particular, is not one of his strengths. The pressure they placed on me manifested in loud verbal rebukes every time I brought home anything below a B, forgot my homework in my locker, missed an assignment. I chalk their attitude up to a feeling of helplessness, especially in regards to my mom; she couldn’t actually sit down with me and walk me through the work as it got more difficult, so her way of helping was to push me, to ensure success, keep me on track at all costs. To my parents, school was the only way I could emulate their own success in this cold, foreign (to them) country. They knew that this country doesn’t really promise anyone success, despite the cruel fantasy of the American dream in which we’re supposed to believe.

One day in 6th grade, I got a C on an essay in Mr. C’s English class—the crybaby in me mercilessly unleashed itself. You have to understand that a C was absolutely unacceptable, and sure to result in a seriously upsetting confrontation at home. So, I started crying as soon as I got it—in the classroom. Mr. C was a kind, funny, empathetic man, and I still talk to him sometimes these days; that morning, he more or less saved my emotional development from the consequences of overwhelming parental pressure. He took me outside, talked to me, asked me about what was going on and why I was crying. At a parent-teacher conference, he spoke honestly to my parents, and ever since then they did their best to let me succeed on my own terms.

But the best thing about Mr. C is that he paid so much attention to my inner world. He saw me writing poems in one of those white-and-black spangled comp books, and asked to read them. They were terrible, of course—I read them, still, and see them as little attempts at exploring my emotional world in immature extremes and allegories. But nonetheless, they helped me grow and reflect on what was going on in my life. Without Mr. C’s encouragement, I may never have valued my own thoughts in writing. He is why to I write, and why I love to share my writing. The incredible thing about him was that he didn’t really care what I was writing. The poems weren’t for class, and they were bad—but he was never hesitant to tell me that they were great, always excited to read them, always encouraging.

One thing comes to mind about the readings for Tuesday. I have become my own writing audience, my own person to whom I write. By that I mean that, at a certain point, I realized that I wanted my writing to be good before showing it to people. It was vital that I develop a way of pushing myself to write and edit without needing a teacher or friend to carry me along, so I started to write to myself. In poems, songs, essays, I always write to make something clear to myself, to think through my emotions and experiences in such a way that they attain a certain level of clarity for me and not anyone else. Then, I can show it to others. This is a technique that I didn’t really encounter in the readings as a method, so I thought I’d include it, particularly since it converts writing from simply thinking into a way of getting to know oneself.

 

Literacy as Social Activism

I loved how the article “Stirring Up Justice” defined literacy as active community engagement and creating positive change. This article continued to expand my own ideas about what literacy is and how it can be used in the classroom. When I was in high school, I had a very narrow definition of literacy. I saw it as being able to read and write, and applying those skills to standardized tests like the SAT and AP tests. Literacy often became synonymous with good test-taking skills because that was the way my literacy was evaluated. I think this is a common view of literacy in K12 schools today, especially as a result of No Child Left Behind legislation that emphasizes standardized testing. The “Stirring Up Justice” article offered a refreshing definition of literacy that goes so far beyond test scores. The students in Jessie’s classroom are required to use interdisciplinary skills to research an issue in their communities and then find a way to teach that issue to the rest of the class. This project will develop so many more skills in the students than the test-taking most students are subject to. Students in Jessie’s classroom will be a lot more prepared for college or the workplace because they are practicing analytical skills, interpretive skills, and presentation skills that teach them to be engaged citizens in their communities.

Comparing Youth Voices

In Kinloch’s “The Whitefication of the Hood,” she describes how Quentin found inspiration in Jasmine’s story. Although Jasmine was younger and lived in a very different community, Quentin really connected to her appreciation of black history in her town. Intrigued by her description of “old stores, slave houses and old family memories,” he noted “I can see some of Harlem in what she’s saying. When the new come, then there’s white-ification.” (Kinloch 67) By drawing parallels between Egypt, Texas and Harlem, NY, Quentin was consolidating common struggles in an attempt to amplify the voice of Black youth in gentrifying neighborhoods. Gathering similar experiences to highlight an issue is key to the success of any political or social movement. This is something that could be done in a classroom between students of the same age or different ages. I think it would be even more interesting for youth from separate schools to start this conversation. Not only was Quentin able to compare and contrast his life to Jasmine’s, but he gained inspiration that strengthened his own narrative. It can be really eye-opening for young people to get a taste of what its like to grow up in another state or community because of both the differences and the common threads that arise to pull two struggling people together.