Failure as Fuel for the Fire

What could have been:  A speech I submitted to the College of Education for consideration for the Graduate Student Keynote Speech...

Needless to say I wasn't accepted.  I've heard one should never let a good speech go to waste so here it goes...

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Thank you President Theobold, Dean Anderson, and distinguished Faculty of the College of Education. It is an honor to be the graduate keynote speaker for the College of Education.  Let me begin by acknowledging a few people, for whom if it were not for their assistance, guidance and support, I would never have made it this far.  The original, OG Doctor Rhoden, my mom.  As they say, the duplicate is never as good as the blueprint. I intend to do my best to honor and uphold the dignity and scholarship of the “family business.” I would also like to thank my Dissertation Committee, which covered three departments and two colleges and helped to guide my intellectual and emotional push towards successful completion.  Without their encouragement, both in person and long distance via e-mail, and Skype, I would not be standing here. Finally, I would like to thank my family and friends, and of course, my wife and son, who perhaps one day might be standing here before such an audience.

I would like to focus my remarks around utilizing failure as fuel and motivation.  From middle school on, I wanted to be a lawyer. I read about law, interned at a law firm, and of course, watched every law movie and TV show out there. Fortunately, in my educational background, I never experienced what I colloquially called a “Malcolm X moment” in which, to paraphrase, his teacher told him that he should not aim so high.  My teachers, family and friends all encouraged me to achieve my intended goal.  Of course, standing here today with an educational doctorate, we know that that dream did not happen…yet??  Instead, my intellectual journey was eventually driven, albeit in a crisscrossing, bi-coastal long strange trip, towards urban education.

The greatest basketball player ever, Michael Jeffery Jordan is quoted as saying “I can accept failure. Everyone fails at something.  But I cannot accept not trying…Fear is an illusion.”  Everyone sitting in this audience today understands failure and fear.  Unfortunately in the current microwave society we live in, failure is magnified and fear is unspoken. Rather than being a blip on an overall trajectory of positive outcomes, our failures and foibles are retweeted, shared and posted on social media.

 

One of the key findings from my dissertation is that trust is essential to building resilience. This is vital in helping to counteract fear of failure. We feel immense pressure to be perfect, to not make a mistake, to hold back our true thoughts for fear of offending someone.  If anyone knows me, they know that I’m not afraid of offending anyone.  Not deliberately or maliciously, unless the person opposite me is a New York sports fan, but rather, I seek to engage in meaningful, respectful discussions about controversial issues.  I trust that the dialogue will help advance our knowledge, even if it is sometimes painful. We have to not be afraid to be wrong.  We cannot be afraid to be afraid.  And most importantly as educators, we cannot be afraid of both engaging in uncomfortable discourse and in saying, humbly, “I do not know.” 

As I was writing my dissertation in local coffee shops around both Philadelphia and Phoenix, and let me give a shout out to local coffee shops, I would sometimes be overcome by the magnitude of what I was writing.  Was I honoring the Black male students I interviewed, or just my own educational experiences?  Was I telling their truth or interpreting, or rather misinterpreting their truth through some distorted lens of educational privilege?  Were my conclusions really what I saw, or was my analysis somehow flawed?  All of these negative thoughts, and a few others that I cannot say in a family environment, weighed heavily on my shoulders trying to push me to open Facebook and procrastinate.  Two other important findings from my dissertation are that it is critical to seek out assistance from peers and mentors, and that understanding the connection between socio-emotional, racial and gender identity is extremely important to positive academic outcomes.

My fear of failure, and of not finishing, fueled me towards being, arguably, as focused as I have ever been concerning an intellectual goal.  Thankfully, whenever the inevitable self-doubt and fear crept into my psyche, I had a longstanding support network to lift me up. And that, is indispensable.  I know a lot of quantitative people who looked at my college GPA, or GRE scores and determined “unequivocally” that I would not succeed, nor should I even be in education. Without my network and, of course, the folk at Temple who saw beyond my abysmal numbers and instead saw my intellectual potential, even when I had self-doubt, who knows what I would have become. No doubt, not a lawyer, and not an academic.

So what does failure as fuel mean?  As we embark upon our next journey, for the undergrads, perhaps into grad school, and for us grad school graduates out into academia or the harsh realities of the world as it is, I am reminded of the words of Melissa Harris-Perry, the MSNBC talk show host, and Professor at Tulane University. In a commencement speech at Wellesley College in 2013, she said; “Never become so enamored of your own smarts that you stop signing up for life’s hard classes.  Remember to keep forming hypotheses and gathering data.  Keep your conclusions light and your curiosity ferocious…”

Nelson Mandela eloquently concluded after 27 years of physical imprisonment mostly on Robben Island, that; “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.  The brave (wo)man is not (s)he who does not feel afraid, but (s)he who conquers that fear.”

Let us all go forth, not in absence of fear, but with that fear as a blanket to be used as a fuel to guide us towards making positive social change.  Not for our own financial or professional benefit, but for the honor of using our education to assist in the service of others and in seeking to reduce the educational inequities that exist in this country and elsewhere.

Thank you.  

Guns Don’t Kill People, Bullets Do…

As I stated last week, Teach for America can be considered a piece of low hanging fruit in the discourse surrounding their role in public education.  This week, I’m aiming my sights on another piece of progressive rhetoric, poverty.

In their book of the same title, Howard, Dresser and Dunklee (2009) noted that “poverty is not a learning disability.”  It seems as if progressives, in particular progressive teachers working in low income, urban areas have increasingly wanted to condemn their students because of their parent’s socio-economic status.  This is the epitome of the type of deficit thinking that has permeated public education for the last few decades. Incidentally, I would attribute the increase in this type of thinking to several things. The main elephant in the room in American public discourse is that it is much easier to discuss issues in terms of economics versus race.  However there is an interconnectedness that cannot be uncoupled when it comes to public education, particularly in urban areas (which is another example of us being uncomfortable with race – “urban” more often than not equals “Black and Latino”).  Thus liberals and progressives find it easier to frame the discussion as one of economic neglect rather than racial inequality.  This is problematic.  It is even more so because of the increasing lack of diversity in terms of the teacher population.

Without going too Stephen A. Smith on folk, we have a race problem, not a poverty problem when it comes to public education.  (In best Stephen A. voice) There I said it.

As the teaching population ages, those teachers who mirrored the communities in which they taught are retiring.  As Time Magazine recently reported, one in six teachers are teachers of color.  For some of us who have been in public schools and in teacher training arenas, this is a duh moment.  While there is absolutely nothing wrong with white teachers teaching black children, and children of color, what is cause for concern is how they are teaching them and what kinds of expectations they hold for those children who look different from them.  While I do not have empirical evidence, I would strongly hypothesize that there is a correlation between white progressive thought centered on the “woe is them, those kids” mentality versus the retiring black teachers who came from the community and knew how to balance tough love with reality of their students’ surroundings. Let me be clear, this is not 100%.  There are a silent number of black teachers who also held (hold) a deficit thinking mentality towards their minority students, but the preponderance of them do not.  Equally valid are the small number of white teachers who hold minority students to high standards regardless of their parent’s economic or social status.

In another recent study, Nikole Hannah-Jones from ProPublica found that there is (in her words) a “resegregation” of America’s schools.  As someone who has studied the landmark Brown v Board of Education (1954) Supreme Court decision for years, and has taught the case in AP US Government class, I can attest that desegregation, in urban areas never occurred.  As late as the 1990s there were court cases in the north seeking to racially balance public schools (see: New York Times). What Brown did accomplish was that, in places where there were one or two public school options, especially high schools, they became “integrated.”  However, segregation still took place inside the school walls with white students and higher SES students being “tracked” into one type of academic coursework and those students of color and poorer SES students being tracked into another.  Thus economic and racial inequality in public schools has existed as a unspoken reality for far too many educators unwilling, or unwanting to articulate what was in plain sight, for decades. 

Remember the Titans 2000, Buena Vista Pictures

In an interview with Democracy Now, Hannah-Jones articulated that black and minority students tend to be in schools where they are receiving an “inferior education” based on their lack of rigorous curriculum, unequal access to Advanced Placement courses, and high number of inexperienced teachers.  Thus the notion of “separate but equal” is still par for the course.  What is interesting is that Hannah-Jones articulates this through the lens of comprehensive public schools and not charters.  So the question is can charters contribute positively to level the playing field and reduce the differentiation in educational opportunities for minority students versus their white counterparts?

What is…insidious in the underlying insinuation of this question and of the overall tone concerning the use of such terms as “resegregation” or worse “apartheid schools” (more on that in a minute) is that it perpetuates the problematic tome of “if it’s white it’s right, if it’s black, it’s whack.”

Hannah-Jones highlights important points concerning rural and small town areas in which there is great possibility to increase racial equity in public schooling.  However, in large urban areas there is another factor which contributes to racial inequity in public schooling, housing.  In many of my graduate classes, I received the side eye from not just professors but colleagues as well when I proposed that perhaps it is time to open up enrollment citywide for all urban public schools.  What this idea has the potential to do is to try to diversify schools in a more equitable manner.  What we cannot do is legislate where people can and cannot live.

Finally, the new buzz word around trying to discredit charter schools, is the argument focusing on them being “apartheid schools”- meaning they have over 90% minority enrollment.  I’m sorry, but if you examine ANY urban area, there is a strong stench of “apartheid” in every type of public school imaginable, perhaps save for magnet schools.  Why single out charters?  Here’s why…

People are pontificating about “silver bullets.”  There is no such thing as a silver bullet, not for the Lone Ranger, not for a sports team, not for a city, and definitely not for a public education fraught with as many moving parts, and as many localities as we have in this country.  PERIOD.  Stop trying to find one.

So in short: Poverty is not destiny, stop looking for silver bullets, stop looking at economic inequity without coupling it with racial inequality, and let’s move towards ways to increase positive academic and social outcomes for minority students -especially in all minority settings, rather than trying to single them out as being in “apartheid” conditions or worse. 

Teacher Bashing - a Two-Sided Coin

It seems that the low hanging fruit in the education discourse these days is Teach for America.  An organization which was founded to help reduce the teacher shortages in the 1990s and has persisted through the last two decades as a controversial alternative certification program.

What I find problematic is not Teach for America in and of itself, but rather the discourse surrounding Teach for America, or rather Teach for A minute as some have dubbed the organization.  Rethinking Schools has devoted a significant amount of ink its latest issue to the subject of “Resisting Teach for America.”  Let me be clear, I am not a proponent nor opponent of TFA.  I am a proponent of being able to utter the name of an organization that is in the business of educating educators who enter hundreds, if not thousands of classrooms annually, in a respectful manner.  While I agree that TFA is problematic (more on that in a moment), I find the discourse surrounding its existence and practices even more disconcerting.

One of the articles in RS highlights the type of ironic, hypocritical discourse I am speaking of.  A quote, which is highlighted in bold print in the text, argues that “we are all victims – the students, the parents, the communities and the TFA teachers themselves…”  This type of deficit thinking (e.g. we are all victims) is exactly the opposite of my experiences with TFA teachers. As a Small Schools Coordinator in a persistently dangerous and underperforming high school in South Central LA, our school was inundated with TFA teachers each fall.  Rather than be embraced by the general faculty, they were dismissed outright as “only being there for a moment” or “not knowing anything about anything” and worse. [For a better articulation of TFA experiences at my former school see Donna Foote’s excellent book Relentless Pursuit] 

Rookie pitcher carrying Hello Kitty Backpack

Sorry to go here again, but to use a sports analogy, you do not ride the rookies so much that they want to leave as soon as their first contract is up.  You want to make sure that they become an integral part of the team.  Thus, we can do two things at once - criticize TFA as an organization, and uplift those new teachers who are our colleagues in our buildings.  What is even more egregious, when I have made this statement in other forums, the response of too many veteran teachers is that Teach for America corps members are “not teachers to begin with.”  My how quickly the crabs in the barrel try to pull others down, and how quickly people forget their own first few years in the classroom.

My personal journey towards the classroom began around 1999 or so. I went into the Chicago Public Schools district office to get a form to become a substitute teacher.  Remember back then, there was no NCLB and one did not have to be “highly qualified.” Rather than being treated with respect and encouragement, I was summarily dismissed by the staff and handed a form.  I left with a bad taste in my mouth, but still a desire to teach.

Fast forward a few years, after years in politics, public relations and working with students outside the classroom and occasionally substitute teaching, I applied to Teach for America.  In the early months of 2003, after submitting a written application, I was called into an office building in downtown Chicago for an interview which consisted of a focus group discussion, a one-on-one interview and a 5 minute classroom presentation of a lesson.  At the same time I was going through the application process with TFA, I also applied to another alternative certification program, The New Teacher Project, specifically the Los Angeles Teaching Fellows (LATF).  I was also called into LATF to perform a similar job presentation, this time in Los Angeles.  I flew out with what few funds I had, with visions of entering the classroom as a history teacher. 

I was subsequently rejected from TFA and was hired into the 6-week induction program for LATF.  While I cannot concretely point to the reasons I was rejected from TFA, yet hired by a similar program, I believe that I was too “old” having been 33 years old when I interviewed rather than the norm of around 23 for Teach for America corps members and, according to a new article, perhaps too Black – see: A Racio-Economic Analysis of Teach for America.  Nonetheless, what is problematic a decade later is not that both organizations are still around (not LATF, but NTTP), but rather why does Teach for America bear the brunt of the criticism while The New Teacher Project (TNTP) gets off scot free?  It is because it is easier to critique “neophyte” young people who are straight out of college, even if they are graduating from top institutions and at or near the top of their classes , versus second or third career “veterans” who have experience in the professional world, albeit not in the formal classroom?

Many of my peers from LATF are still in the classroom a decade later.  The six-week training we experienced was as intense, perhaps more so, than any teacher education program I have encountered.  The question is, it a matter of paying “dues” through years accrued in an undergraduate teacher program, or learning the skills necessary to perform well in the classroom?  I argue, as does Dr. Linda Darling-Hammond, that teacher education programs are not doing as good of a job as they can in training teachers either. 

Perhaps we need to reevaluate the “we are all victims” mantra that has permeated the discourse in public education and flip the script to we are all heroes.  Or maybe we are all learners.  Or we are all in this together.  If we do not begin to become proactive towards a positive goal, as opposed to simply being “against” an organization, educational policy, specific politician, etc…then we are going to be doomed to a continued level of educational inequity and lack of social justice we all wish to achieve.  The time for band-aid’s passing as policy reform has long since passed.  It is now time to begin to marshal our forces towards positive change by being more positive.

At the Crossroads – AERA 2014 Postscript

Coming back from a self-imposed blog break for AERA and vacation, I’m back as energized as ever.  For the past few months I have been in a now admitted post dissertation haze and exhaustion.  Going to the granddaddy of them all of educational conferences, the American Educational Research Association (AERA), seeing colleagues, attending amazing presentations by esteemed academics, and seeing even a few friendly faces in Philadelphia, has recharged this battery. 

I have also come back with a renewed sense of antagonism and anger aimed towards the current state of not only public discourse, but academic discourse as well.

As a newly minted, fresh out of the box PhD, my experience at my second AERA was somewhat at a

crossroads.  I am no longer a student, yet I am not a fully hired Professor either.  I sit at the intersection of teacher/student as I have done most of my life, but this time, my student self (at least in the formal sense) is the one that is slowly becoming a memory.  This presented me with an interesting perspective on viewing the sessions I attended. In fact, it also perhaps influenced the sessions I choose to attend in the first place.

In an unnamed session I attended, after several interesting presentations on teacher diversity and teacher identity, I raised a question concerning the teacher pipeline and perhaps ways in which we could increase the number of college students of color who become teachers of color.  Rather than acknowledge that this is a challenging area in teacher education programs, one of the presenters dismissed my inquiry as a “problem for policy makers” and then proceeded to pontificate about the education policy ills we have all heard an nauseam.  I am not exactly sure that her rant answered my question, but I am sure that it is an explicit example of what is problematic about the current discourse surrounding educational inequities, public education and education politics/policies. My take away from this encounter is that there appears to be an academic (and public) hierarchy based on several factors.  Let me lift the veil and say, perhaps I should not, in my gender, race or age positionality, have been asking a question in a public forum that would seem to be “challenging” the authority of the presenter.  

Interesting considering this is an educational conference...

Regardless of my experience in that one session, I of course, persisted in continuing to be curious and in asking questions, and even making a few comments which garnered nods from some in the audience. Overall, my biggest gripes with the conference was that most of the sessions did not allow for time for insightful, meaningful and divergent perspectives from the audience.  Most sessions went right up to the time it was allotted, and if there were a few minutes for questions, they were usually few and did not provide time for follow up.  I believe growth takes place in that messy middle where disagreement lies.

Another gripe, was that there were too many sessions that had a singular aim rather than a more multidimensional approach.  What I mean is, for example, I attended a colleague’s presentation on rites of passage programs of young black women and upon leaving that session a group of noted scholars on black males were outside waiting to enter the room.  Why were there two separate, but equal sessions surrounding the same issue/area. I am eager to both see more sessions in which the confusing, muddled interesctionality of topics is met head on, as well am eager to emerge as one scholar willing to assist in creating such sessions and participating in such sessions.  

I also found it problematic that there were so many sessions related to social justice that were of critical importance, perhaps only to me and the few other people who were in attendance, on the last day.  For example, the last session I went to was a sparsely attended session on the “cradle to prison pipeline.”  This was one of the best sessions I have attended in my young academic career.  This was a session in which there were multiple perspectives, although not one in which there was anyone in favor of the prison industrial complex, present and a lively discussion ensued.

Lastly, my own presentation, yes held on the last day, went well.  It was interesting to be at the table with several colleagues who were further along in their careers, as well as a few who were still finishing their dissertation work.  That made for an interesting mix of opinions, collegiality and perspectives.

 

So what does AERA have to do with the public discourse of education policy and politics?  My twitter

friend and Philadelphia education activist, Helen Gym, in a standing room only presentation with Dr. Diane Ravitch, implored us as researchers to be more activists.  In another session I attended which honored the late Dr. Jean Anyon, Pedro Noguera noted the link between activism and the academy, articulating how the research/perspectives both he and Dr. Anyon have created have been strongly influenced by their activism prior to entering higher education. 

It seems that between now and 2015 AERA, which is home in Chicago, we as researchers and higher education folk need to be more connected with what is going on in the trenches, and, where appropriate and necessary, become activists in our own right.  However, the caveat I have been imploring for months for all of us, is that we need to do this work with a humility that affords us to listen to various perspectives…not just the perspectives we believe, or the perspective of someone with “years of experience,” a few letters at the end of their name, or who look like us, but rather all perspectives. 

It is the only way we can successfully bind the intersection of research, policy and practice. 

Nino Brown

New Jack City, Warner Bros. 1991

In 1991 the urban classic film New Jack City, Nino Brown (played perfectly by Wesley Snipes), and his right hand man, G-Money, throughout the film repeat the phrase “am I my brother’s keeper.  Yes I am.”  In fact, those are the last words uttered between the two before Nino kills G. 

Fast forward to 2014, the President of the United States is Black and he has revived the phrase “My Brother’s Keeper.”  This time, the aim is not to keeping his “boys” from the neighborhood in line, but rather it is an initiative designed to keep all boys of color in line by being more responsible and compassionate towards one another and for us, as a society, to value boys of color in more positive ways rather than strictly as drug dealers, corner boys, high school dropouts, unemployed, or deadbeat fathers.

whitehouse.gov

While one would think that the premise advanced by the President and his Administration would be seen as beneficial both for the community and from the community, there are those who have been vocally critical, or at the very least, skeptical of the merits of this initiative. 

Last month when the initiative was rolled out, in addition to Magic Johnson, Colin Powell and others Black leaders being in attendance at the White House, the President had a cadre of young black boys from a predominantly all-black high school on the south side of Chicago behind him as he gave his speech.  The optics were one of positivity.  Seeing black boys out of the “context” of expectations, meaning suited up, clean cut standing tall and proud behind the first Black President, was an important visual.  However, where I am conflicted is whether or not we should EXPCECT Black boys and boys of color to “perform race” in multiple ways such as this example, or should the narrative exclusively be relegated to their supposed stereotypical “authentic” urban, hip-hop selves?  In my own experience, it was irrelevant whether or not I was wearing a suit or a sweatshirt, too many cabs from Washington DC to Chicago have passed me by.  Why does this happen?  If adults with a little bit of status (as exemplified by wearing a suit) are seen as “problematic” or “threatening” (let me add not just by white cab drivers, but by a large number of Black immigrant cab drivers too), then how should we as a society view even younger Black male bodies?

Historically we know that Black and Brown bodies have been problematic to the dominant group, and seen systemically and structurally as “inferior.”  Does one initiative by the first Black President change those systems and structures overnight?  Of course not.  Anyone who bought into the false premise of living in a “post-racial” society simply because of the election of Obama is living in a Willy Wonkaish dream world.  

However, as I have repeatedly articulated, how do we flip the script and create a counter-narrative that both honors the historical background, but is not stuck there?

I will not repeat the statistics concerning boys of color the President cited. In citing the statistics in this context, in my opinion, he was not framing the discourse from a deficit perspective. Rather he was framing it from a structural and historical one.  I think this aspect went unnoticed by many of the critics who claim that this initiative is nothing more than talk.  It is not as if a President, of any race by the way, could explicitly come out and say that we are starting this initiative because the United States was founded on and has historically demonstrated institutional, and structural oppression, violent hatred and racial animus.  As a politician, even one with no campaign on the horizon, any President would be cautious about exactly how “honest” he can be.  By stating the obvious narrative of his own history of growing up without a father and citing this issue as one of “national importance,” he is saying implicitly what all the prognosticators, academics and critics would like to see him make explicit.  

Dr. Lewis-McCoy in a piece in Ebony is quoted as saying “creating change is not simply about behavior but also about changing the pervasive unequal systems that ensnare young men of color.”  No doubt Dr. Lewis-McCoy is 100% correct, but is it not possible to change systems and structures AND hearts and minds of the boys of color at the same time?  Is it not possible to both encourage boys of color to be resilient and demonstrate persistence AND teach them about the world as it is – perhaps by articulating examples of our own experiences of navigating through the world as positive black males through highlighting difficulties in being unable to get a loan, being denied housing, tenure or a job simply because we are “too aggressive,” or any number of negative experiences even “successful” black males endure?

Mychal Denzel Smith both in the Nation and on the Melissa Harris-Perry show on MSNBC explicitly called the initiative “flawed” and “counterproductive.”  His premise is similar to Dr. Lewis-McCoy’s in that he claims the initiative does not address structural problems, specifically the two examples of stop-and-frisk and mass incarceration.  I believe that any initiative when first launched cannot and should not be so etched in stone that it cannot adapt to legitimate criticisms such as articulated by these two commentators and scholars.  However, I am realistic, or perhaps optimistic enough to know that just like it is difficult to lose weight gained over years of neglect, so too is it difficult to change structures and institutions overnight.

Changing the narrative from a negative to a positive one is never easy.  Oftentimes people see highlighting what is good as disrespecting the history or reality of the negative.  That does not have to be the case.  We can, as Smith says “turn every black and brown boy into a ‘respectable’ citizen” AND advance society by eliminating the historical inequities inflicted upon them.  We, as communities of color cannot succeed alone in changing the narrative.  It will take allies from every walk of life to make change happen.  I believe that the President’s initiative is a step in the right direction. Not the entire marathon, but a much needed, and long delayed step towards positive social change.