Worth Explaining

There have been many cases where I have felt like the enemy in my own classroom. The first time I felt it was early in my teaching career at a school in the Bronx. A student was talking loudly during a lesson. All of his classmates were clearly listening to him and not me. When I reminded him that class had started, he replied, “I was explaining something” and all of the students glared at me as if I was the one who was out of line. Who knows? Maybe I was. After all, I was engaging in the same struggle to be an explainer as he. But in that scenario I lost, because he just continued with his explanation, the rest of the class continued listening, and I was confronted with the sobering realization that the lecture is a dying art in New York City public schools.

But there is a part of me that refuses to believe this. It’s the part that was inspired by my 9th grade English teacher Mr. Everett with his cool Clint Eastwood like voice and disposition, which whispered “Make my day” to any freshman that would dare to be a distraction. We couldn’t quite describe what it was that compelled us to respect him. Maybe we were intimidated by the fact that he had so much self control, confidence and above all, patience of which was mostly displayed in the way he carefully chose every word he said with grace and precision. He created a sense of foreboding in his students, leaving us to question what a man with so much patience would do if he was ever pushed to lose it. So we all just gave him the floor whenever his gentle but firm voice suggested it and his strong presence demanded it. I once learned the consequence of violating the unspoken rule against speaking out of turn when I made fun of a student named Jason as he joyfully gave Mr. Everett an account of his dance filled weekend at the local club on the other side of town. I interrupted the conversation with an incredulous question “Jason you can dance”? Instantly, as the words recklessly leapt off my tongue I knew I’d screwed up, because I could hear Mr. Everett taking a breath as he carefully loaded his response to my ill-advised critique from his expansive lexicon and became a verbal Dirty Harry. His icy reply was “Mr. Knight are you implying that this student can’t dance because of his color?”, If so, your classmate and I find that extremely insulting and beneath you”. I was speechless because he was not only right, but his approach was completely unexpected. And, as an added bonus I learned what the word “imply” meant. Although I didn’t change my beliefs about my classmate’s dancing ability, I learned the valuable lesson that there was a time and a place to express my unsolicited opinions. His class was not one of them.
In the current landscape of public education however, Mr. Everett’s approach would seem to be pretty close to impossible.

Mr. Everett had a poetic approach to teaching that the students in my classes fail to appreciate. There are many reasons to consider why students would be non-responsive to his brand of reasoning, like parenting (or the lack of), socio-economics, etc. But the most present factor I encounter daily is a competitive drive to be seen, heard and acknowledged, by any means necessary, no matter how many times they are removed from class, their parents are called, or they are suspended. Most of them are willing to hazard the risk of punishment because the prize they are after is self-esteem. And the only obstacles to this goal are their fellow students and me and my “boring” rants about analyzing elements of plot in short fiction. Even my better students who actually focus on the lessons have a tendency to rudely cut off their peers during class discussions just to be acknowledged for giving the correct answer. I have tried the Everett approach once or twice when this has happened. But the deep sigh, purposed glare, and carefully selected reprimand only resulted in half-hearted apologies followed by repeat offenses 10-20 seconds later (Yes, I have timed them). Other students who find alternate more effective methods of getting attention like farting, belching, or cursing, all of which are done loudly, are too numerous for me to take the calculated approach of my former teacher. In the past I have resorted to yelling, but this is merely a temporary solution. One could argue that my students are enthusiastic and their energies should be redirected and harnessed. This responsibility of course lays with me, the teacher, but the major lesson my students retain daily, is that in the urban class room, only the strongest and the loudest survive. The competitive atmosphere that these factors create is my biggest obstacle to maintaining order in my classes.

Since I have been teaching I have heard many approaches to the growing rambunctiousness in public school class rooms. Many of these models such as backward design, ramp-up and the workshop model all have one major goal in mind which is creating a student centered environment in which the teacher is just a facilitator and the students run the class. Although this is a noble concept, there is also a major flaw. Although students have the ability to take control of any class discussion or activity, they lack the discipline to use this power to a constructive end. In response to this dilemma we teachers set up rules such as “The One Mic” rule which states that only one student should speak at a time. There are also the Socratic seminar and “accountable talk” models which require that students willingly participate in meaningful discussions which address open ended essential questions like “What is a hero?” or “What is self-awareness?”

These approaches create major problems. One is the student who has barely reached the first level of knowledge on Bloom’s Taxonomy. This is a student whose entire academic career before high school was in environments where “right answers” were all that mattered. Often in scenarios like this, the teacher must be diligent in helping students engage in a level of thinking that goes beyond the gold star. So, in high school, students are often introduced abruptly to a form of instruction which asks them to find their own answers to varied levels of teacher questioning. This is one example of differentiated instruction which on paper is supposed to address various learning styles and levels of the student. Students however, become very frustrated because all they want is the answer sans the bells and whistles which educators refer to as the learning process.

Another issue is that in this current environment where older and more experienced teachers are feeling a growing pressure to retire, inexperienced teachers who are new to the daunting task of addressing multiple learning styles, levels, and not to mention egos can easily be bludgeoned into submission with the ever present question “but is this right”? Or “What we gotta’ do”? Incessantly asking a teacher these questions even during tests is customary for this new breed of student. When my students ask those popular questions, I usually ask them what they think. This approach has had some pronounced effects on my class room environment. I have been cursed at, accused of being a bad teacher and even complained against formally. I have become abruptly aware that teachers must perform juggling acts to maintain integrity, please their students and keep administrators happy. On one hand, the teacher who does not address the constant outcry for right answers during his lessons can quickly lose favor with his students which results in disciplinary problems. On other hand, he will also lose equal favor with administrators if he cannot show that he has used every measure possible to address the needs of students and use this data to transform them into critical thinkers.

In one of my classes a student who was unprepared for a test stormed out of class because he didn’t think he should be required to take it. His only reason for his absences was cutting school. I am of course charged with the often tedious task of calling his parents to see why he cut and inform them of all of the work he missed, only to be met with a tone and familiar voice which informs me that the number has been disconnected. Another student who decided to talk and disrupt his peers during an exam was removed from class and sent home. He has since filed a complaint against the school for unfair treatment which is still pending. In reality, students in my classes only want to be “taught” on their terms. The so-called student centered approach is producing a self-centered pupil who is not shy when it comes to accusing his teachers of being inept. And if you don’t believe him, he’s got the poor grades to prove it. The pressure that is imposed on everyone involved in the educational process gives students their pick of scapegoats to justify their own failures. While everyone is fighting for their jobs, they just run amok, fully aware that when they are punished they can blame their behavior on the parent who is too over worked to pay them any attention, the teacher who is stressfully trying to manage 29 other egos, or the dean whom they claim just doesn’t like them. The conflicting interests held by teachers who want autonomy in their classrooms, politicians who want favorable statistics and administrators who want to keep their schools open have made way for a new kind of school environment to emerge.

It would seem that in the midst of all of the problems facing us in education, teachers, administrators, politicians, and of course parents all have some explaining to do. But maybe the time for explaining has come to an end. We are all aware that schools and class rooms are not perfect worlds. But I can recall a time when every effort was made by faculty, students, staff and parents to make them at least seem that way. I can also recall a time when I did not have to be yelled at to strive for perfection, when it didn’t matter whether or not a student liked their seat or whether the teacher “talked too much”. The irony in all of this is that the innovators of this new student centered approach all share these memories. Could it be possible that we are doing more damage than good when we grant autonomy to children who are frighteningly aware that it is an illusion in every other facet of the system that is selling it? Maybe I’m just too old school, but I have decided that teaching is still possible. And maybe the old kind of explaining in the class room is all that I need. There is a little voice in my head that keeps explaining to me, that I should not be afraid to go ahead and make someone’s day, because carefully chosen words can still inspire.

Patience: Bold as Love (revised)

Sometimes I am astounded by the level of patience that it takes to do my job. I am an educator and bold enough to call myself a beacon of light to some and humble enough to admit that I am a mere distraction to others. I face many challenges in my week from both students and faculty, but every once in a while I can look past my ego and reach an epiphany. It is these times when I realize that young people today are challenged with issues that would rival Job’s. The earthquakes that plague their lives come with aftershocks that would rattle the foundation of the average individual. For example, this past week one of my best students was placed in foster care because of sexual abuse. Yet in the midst of this upheaval she still remains as pleasant and resilient as ever. Unfortunately, she does not represent all of my students. Some drop out of school for seemingly lesser problems on the surface but may face issues just as severe.


My friends and associates often tell me that my profession is admirable and that they could never amass the level of patience that is needed do what I do. My reply to them is if you think I’m patient, you should meet some of my students. I have also been told by many who know me that this profession is the perfect fit because I have always possessed (allegedly) the required resolve needed to fill the task of being a teacher. I guess that makes me a virtuous man because after all patience is a virtue right? Sometimes I’m not so sure.

With this in mind, I decided to consult my dictionary on this enigma called patience. What is it about it that makes it so (pardon the expression) damned virtuous. I decided first to look up the word virtue. I found that virtue is defined as ‘moral excellence, goodness or righteousness’ I then looked up patience and found it defined as ‘ the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like.

I must admit these definitions made me feel a little uncomfortable. Although I’d like to think that I aspire to be patient, I don’t think that it comes with such virtuous aspirations. In fact, in many cases the patience that I exhibit comes from apathy as a means of self preservation. I would even venture to say that many of us in our work lives possess similar safety mechanisms to keep from going over the edge. (If you have any doubts about this think about the next time you are having a drink after work and venting about the job or the next time you find yourself counting the days until your next vacation).

The question that still remains is how do we reach the virtuous part of our patience? Does it even exist? I’m not sure if I will ever find the answer to this question but I came closer recently while playing my guitar. I decided after 10 years of procrastination and fear to try my hand at learning two of my favorite Jimi Hendrix tunes: “Axis: Bold as Love” and “Little Wing”. Anyone who is a guitar player and appreciates Jimi’s music would probably say that the very thought of learning these songs could be quite overwhelming. I can’t really say what it was that motivated me to venture on this path of “hammer ons”, B minor 9ths and intricate embellishments. They always intimidated me in the past. The only thing that I can say is that from somewhere inside of me the patience materialized. It came without self judgment or regret of past attempts. I just took a deep breath and allowed myself to learn each song as if I was learning them for the first time had all the time in the world to do so. In essence, it came from a genuine love of the music and an overwhelming desire to do more than just listen, to become an active part of it.


I went to work the next day with an extra pep in my step. When my students and colleagues asked me how my weekend was, I smiled and told them it was time well spent. And occasionally when I came across a student who decided that he wanted to disrupt my class by talking out of turn, coming in late, or asking to go the bathroom in the middle of my lesson, my patience was transformed from an act of survival to an act of love. I think in those moments I discovered patience as a virtue. I realized that what I had done was revolutionary at least as far as my little world was concerned. All it took was for me to first be patient with myself use it toward something I loved in order to find patience for the rest of the world. As I think back to this time I am wondering if I should learn to play chess or learn another language or take up jigsaw puzzles as a hobby. Would these things make me more able to handle a room full of high school freshman? Could activities like this help republicans and democrats govern better? Could kicking a soccer ball help the Israelis and Palestinians stop fighting in Gaza? Could playing ping pong end the war in Afghanistan? How much does Barack Obama love shooting hoops? And if he is shooting the rock right now is he working on some shot that he never had the time or patience to work on in the past after a busy day in the oval office as a means to unwind? I wonder what would happen on his next day at work if he finally hit that shot.

Guest Post by Autumn

Don't be too scary for Halloween!

Dope at 40? (revised)

Dope adj.- A word that describes something that is extremely cool, such as music, clothes, people, etc.
-The Urban Dictionary


A girlfriend from my thirties once offered me as a consolation prize for my unrequited love the following phrase: “You’re gonna’ be dope when your 40”. Well that day has come thank you very much and my birthday gift is a beautiful baby instructions not included. What was included however, was the responsibility of insuring that hope is an essential part of his and my daughter’s life for the rest of their days. Am I dope? Well I guess it depends on whom you ask.
My father once told me that he took 40 very hard. I suppose it was because he always wanted to be rich and famous. He was once an actor, singer and model. None of those things proved fruitful in his life and there is an unwritten rule somewhere that says in the quest to become rich and famous 40 is the cut off. Another woman I dated once told me that we Americans are shamefully preoccupied with fame and fortune. Is this not the case in other countries? On some level I understand my father’s pain but presently I don’t feel it. To his credit, I share his passion for the arts but I am under the sobering realization that their primary purpose in my life is to keep me from going insane. Although fame and fortune would be welcome, I value time most of all especially when it grants me the permission to create and be uninterrupted by the realities of a practical life. It is in those rare occurrences that I truly feel dope.
Today I stared into the eyes of my son of 5 days. In them there existed the wisdom of 40 eternities. I know that sounds corny but since I’m his dad and he’s my first son I guess I’m allowed. Needless to say I was humbled to say the least when he appeared on the scene, which really made me, put this whole 40 thing into perspective. I am 40. Big friggin’ deal! This is what his eyes say to me.

There are times when I am afraid because I don’t want him to experience the same failures I have. What do I tell him when he meets his first bully? What advice do I give him when someone breaks his heart? But in the midst of my panic his eyes tell me that he has faith in me and that he and I will both figure it out. Am I dope? It’s too early to tell I think. The journey has just begun. Whether I am dope or not remains to be seen. Swagger is a mere illusion.
One of the hardest things I have witnessed as an adult is the moment when my parents became real people. I believe that my parents were better at creating the parental illusion than I could ever hope to be. All I have ever known how to be is naked to the world. Is this dope? Or is being dope about the façade that so many have become experts at creating? I want my children to be genuine. Am I setting them up for failure in this life where the genuine are always victimized? Would it be better to just make them dope? I wonder. And if so how the hell do I do that? There are so many questions.
I want my children to be warriors. I want my children to win. I want my children to be better than me. This is my truth and whether or not it is dope is of little concern. In my thirties being aloof was the seat of my charm. This no longer works for me. When I stare into the eyes of my son I realize now that being constantly aware of the world around me is the only way that I can ensure his safety. Am I dope? When I look at my daughter I see a brilliant but sensitive young woman who can do great things if I am a real presence in her life. Am I dope? My daughter continues to amaze me every time I am able to drop all of the futilities of adult life and give her my full attention. When I do this I am met with nothing short of brilliance. My son has a power that is beyond my comprehension. Although he cannot yet speak verbally he has communicated to me the essence of love and understanding since the first day I saw his beautiful face and cut his lifeline. If I was forced to define what dope is I would say that the embodiment of dopeness lies in his unwillingness to complain and face this life head on no matter what the consequences. I am truly inspired by his arrival. Am I dope? Who cares?!?

Honestly I don’t know what my former lover meant by that statement. Perhaps she foresaw a person that was more confident, self aware and introspective. Truthfully it doesn’t really matter. In the final analysis, we all have improvements that we must make. Being 40 does not make me the perfect man (just ask my fiance’). And although I am a better man now than I was then, what is most important is that in both cases I was a good man. Whether or not I am dope is purely subjective now. The only thing that matters now is that in the epic that is to be told about the generation to come I must do my part. Let the teller of the tales to come sort out the dope.

Da Plug

This post is dedicated to my good friend Tai Allen for winning the National Poetry Awards 2010 best album - for easy readin'. I just wanna say congrats to Tai and ahem by the way I'm on it too. Be sure to check out the excerpts at the bottom of the page.

cheers

song: http://vicelounge.com/taiallen_neverfall.zip
song: http://vicelounge.com/taiallen_loveis.zip
video: http://vimeo.com/12173167
--

Happy Thoughts

This past weekend I had the opportunity to get away from New York for a while and take a ride down south to Virginia Beach. The wonderful thing about excursions such as this is that often you come back a little more self aware than when you left. It would be elegant and Kerouac-ish if I could say that such profound insights came from some meditative state while watching foliage go by on the road, but this was not the case. My discovery came from a friend and it was not elegant, profound or poetic. It was just an honest insight from a good friend who happens to be dealing with the death of his mother who happened to be his best friend. He simply told me while I was in the midst of one of my infamous self absorbed rants that I complain too damn much. He also asked me one of the most honest questions that anyone has ever asked (or at least this time I listened) which was "don't you have any happy thoughts"? So this post is an ode and apology to my good friend for having the patience to put up with my selfishness and helping me to look for those happy thoughts every day for the rest of my life as if my life depended on them.

Happy Thought #1: 8/10/2010 My washing machine broke down and instead of getting stressed about it and using money I didn't have to buy a new one, my fiance and I managed to find a repair man to fix it for a fraction of what I would have paid for a new one. Cha Ching!

Happy Thought #2 8/11/2010 On this day I finally reached my weight goal of 210lbs since 3 months ago when I discovered that I was 240lbs and my 7 year old daughter affectionately nicked named me Belly Man! I lost a total of 30 lbs. Do I hear underwear model in my future?

Happy Thought #3 8/11/2010 On this day I discovered that Laurence Fishburne's daughter is a porn star. Not sure if this qualifies as a happy thought because it is at someone's expense, but I'll be damned if it doesn't make me more aware of my role as a father and what an honor it is to have such an esteemed title. Oh and also what can happen if said awareness ever starts to wane. My prayers go out to the both of them.

Happy thought #4: 8/12/2010 Tonight I made dinner for the fam. Cooking is probably first among the many talents that I will discover as I become more domesticated on my journey to the great beyond.
Also, its cool to know that there are at least 3 people in the world who actually approve of what I whip up in the kitchen ( CJ will get his in the form of breast milk; Da Ninny rules!) By the way, tonight's dish was penne and vodka sauce ala Craig. RECOGNIZE BITCHES!!!


Thanks again to my friend Paul for offering me a therapeutic option to dealing with life's little curve balls.

Be good to each other out there!

love and light
c

Something in the Gatorade?

Old school sports fans would argue that there was once a time in the golden age of sports when a great player stayed with his team. He and the team were bonded and if someone spoke the name of that individual they knew it was just like saying the name of the team because both were interchangeable. Then players like Shaquille O’Neal (5 championships), Kevin Garnett (1 championship and 1 finals appearance in 3 years) entered the stage. These players and the recent events of Lebron James, Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh have shown us that this is no longer the case or is it? It would be easy to bash these individuals as many have done for their alleged disloyalty to their respective teams but let’s take a moment to really examine exactly what their collective efforts will mean for the NBA.

Now I’m no expert but I am old enough to remember the dynasties created by the likes of Larry Byrd, Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan. Byrd and Magic were fortunate enough to walk in to an organization that already had a rich history of winning. Upper management did most of the wheeling and dealing that was needed to keep these team’s winning traditions intact. Jordan’s situation represents probably the best example of having a dynasty built around him but everyone knows that his opinion greatly influenced how his team was constructed. This was the case because no one in Chicago including the owner Jerry Reinsdorf wanted to see him go. In other words, measures were taken to keep him happy. I wonder if Cleveland’s owner Dan Gilbert with all of his scathing criticism even considered this valuable piece of history or was he just being…well cavalier when considering James’s happiness as a player. Is it possible that with all of his wealth and promises of prosperity that he forgot that the most important thing to a player with championship potential is to actually become a champion? Let’s face it in every superstar athletes tenure time is of the essence. First steps become slower, verticals become shorter and aches and pains take longer to go away. History has shown that great players need other great players to win. When I look at the Cavalier’s roster I personally don’t see a great among them other than Anderson Verejao possibly.

Now it could be argued that Gilbert gave his best efforts at building a team around James that best complimented his strengths but the performance of these players and the look on Lebron’s face at the end of their playoff run was the most telling of all that it just wasn’t enough. Lebron’s actions are indicative of a man who no longer wishes to wait for destiny or the team owner to get it right. The efforts of him and his new teammates are exactly what owners have been doing for years; taking destiny in their own hands. To accuse him of cowardice, selfishness and quitting is just wrong.

Wade, James and Bosh’s actions represent a new trend in not just basketball but in sports in general. They have in essence taken the game and moved it to a new court, revealed the true power of free agency and made owners like Gilbert painfully aware that they are not the only ones who can have meetings, which decide the future of a franchise. Old school fans that have become owners may argue that Lebron James and his cohorts have no respect for the simpler times when owners controlled everything. Well things are not so simple anymore. The natives have become restless and down right disobedient. I guess there must be something in the Gatorade eh Dan?

Dope at 40?

Dope- A word that describes something that is extremely cool, such as music, clothes, people, etc.
-The Urban Dictionary

A former lover in my thirties once offered me as a consolation prize for my unrequited love the following phrase: “you’re gonna’ be dope when your 40”. Well that day has come. Today I am officially 40 years of age. My birthday gift; a beautiful baby boy 5 days old and the responsibility of insuring that hope is an essential part of his and my daughter’s life for the rest of their days. Am I dope? Well I guess it depends on who you ask. My father once told me that he took 40 very hard. I suppose it was because he always wanted to be rich and famous. He was once an actor, singer and model. None of those things proved fruitful in his life and there is an unwritten rule somewhere that says in the quest to become rich and famous 40 is the cut off. On some level I understand his pain but presently I don’t feel it. To his credit, I share his passion for the arts but I am under the sobering realization that its primary purpose in my life is to keep me from going insane. Although fame and fortune would be welcome, I am a much bigger fan of time when it grants me permission to create uninterrupted by the realities of a practical life. It is in those rare occurrences that I truly feel dope.

Today I stared into the eyes of my son of 5 days. In his eyes there existed the wisdom of 5 eternities. Needless to say I was humbled to say the least. Today I am 40. Big fuckin’ deal! This is what his eyes say to me. In my heart and mind there is fear because I don’t want him to experience the same failures I have. What do I tell him when he meets his first bully? What advice do I give him when someone breaks his heart? But in the midst of my panic his eyes tell me that he has faith in me and that I will figure it out. Am I dope? It’s too early to tell I think. I am 40 and the journey has just begun. Whether I am dope or not remains to be seen. Swagger is a mere illusion.

One of the hardest things I have witnessed as an adult is the moment when my parents became real people. I believe that my parents were better at creating the parental illusion than I could ever hope to be. All I have ever known how to be is naked to the world. Is this dope? Or is being dope about the façade that so many have become experts at creating? I want my children to be genuine. Am I setting them up for failure in this life where the genuine are always victimized? Would it be better to just make them dope? I wonder.

I want my children to be warriors. I want my children to win. I want my children to be better than me. This is my truth and whether or not it is dope is of little concern. In my thirties being aloof was the seat of my charm. This no longer works for me. When I stare into the eyes of my son I realize now that being constantly aware of the world around me is the only way that I can ensure his safety. Am I dope? When I look at my daughter I see a brilliant but sensitive young woman who can do great things if I am a real presence in her life. Am I dope? My daughter continues to amaze me every time I am able to drop all of the futilities of adult life and give her my full attention. When I do this I am bombarded by nothing but brilliance. Am I dope? My son has a power that is beyond my comprehension. Although he cannot yet speak verbally he has communicated to me the essence of love and understanding since the first day I saw his beautiful face and cut his lifeline to comfort of the womb. If I was forced to define what dope is I would say that the embodiment of dopeness lies in his unwillingness to complain and face this life head on no matter what the consequences. I am truly inspired by his arrival. Am I dope? Who cares?!?

Honestly I don’t know what my former lover meant by that statement. Perhaps she foresaw a person that was more confident, self aware and introspective. Truthfully it doesn’t really matter. In the final analysis, we all have improvements that we must make. Being 40 does not make me the perfect man (just ask my fiance’). And although I am a better man now than I was then, what is most important is that in both cases I was a good man. Whether or not I am dope is purely subjective now. The only thing that matters now is that in the epic that is to be told about the generation to come I must do my part. Let the teller of the tales to come determine my dopeness.

Enough about me...

It's Devasha's birthday. I just made her taco's for dinner. Since she is pregnant and loves to eat. I think her birthday was a success. And me? Well I'm feeling fine and little less intense thank you very much. I guess that's what doing for others does. It makes you less intense. Not sure how long I can pull it off though. The less intense thing I mean. But all things considered this day is not about me so who cares. Happy Birthday Devasha...

A Different Type of Word (revised)

It is becoming apparent to me that much of my writing whether through linguistic analysis or otherwise is anecdotal. In keeping with this trend I begin with a situation, which occurred last year in my classroom. One of my students who was habitually late to class would often argue that he saw no reason why it was such a big deal to be on time. In hindsight, I would attribute our differences of opinion to age and possibly class. Although I am unsure if there are any studies which explain class and its relationship to time orientation, there are studies that would attempt to explain the language exchanged in our debates. For the sake of comfort I will focus mostly on the sociolinguistic elements of our conversation, how they affected my perception of my student, and how other elements, which occurred after the conversation, produced a different affect. My hope also is for the reader to see how the use of the “N” word, which continues to be controversial among African Americans young and old, has played a significant role in my evolution as an educator and student of the English language.

Consider the following statement: “Mr. Knight ‘yous a diffr’int type a nigga”. One noticeable linguistic element here is the use of the term “yous” which in some non-standard dialects is used as the 2nd person form of the word “I”. In this example however, it is used as the first person since he was only addressing me. Another feature of this sentence is the use of the letter “a”(pronounced uh) which replaces the word “are” and acts as a contraction for the phrase “you are a” as in the more standardized form of “Mr. Knight you are a different type of Nigger”. Other acceptable statements which would convey the same meaning are: You a’ diffrint’ kinda’ Nigga, You a diffrint’ type nigga’, You a diffrint’ kind nigga” and “You a diffrint’ konna nigga”. In my experience through personal usage and as a witness in other urban settings these different variations of the phrase are interchangeable. These examples are consistent with Peter Trudgill’s findings which report that in most localized English dialects there is a great degree of variation as opposed to standardized forms where there is little (40).

The last obvious element is of course the use of the “N” word, which possesses a sordid etymology that would be unnecessary to explain. This is what my student said to me after several classes where I pleaded my case why he should be on time. Initially his statement, which seemed to be an indication of dismissal or disbelief of the very notion of promptness, was an insult for two reasons. The first was because our difference in age. Although the use of this term between African Americans is long standing, those in my age group especially those who are college educated use it sparingly at best and only in select company. I can recall old episodes of television shows such as “Sanford and Son” and “The Jeffersons” where “nigga” was used only for dramatic or comedic effect. Enter the 21st century. It is now used frequently especially among urban youth. The effect however, has been diminished. The second reason I was offended was that his statement at the time seemed to be an extreme form of disrespect. It was in my opinion a glaring violation of a social relationship between teacher and student that I refused to acknowledge as dissolving or nonexistent.

This episode gives credence to Fernando Penalosa’s statement that “language varieties survive because of their functional differentiation, and their status derives largely from the functions they serve”(83). In this case, although I was fully aware of the function of the “N” word as a term to indicate companionship (as in my nigga) or as a gender identifier much like guy or dude, my age and preoccupation with class and status only allowed me to hear its negative connotation.
It seems that in our linguistic frames of reference my student and I were on familiar ground. However, because we differed fundamentally on the usage of this one word, a breakdown in communication occurred. In this instance, we both felt disrespected. Because of one simple phrase and others similar in style I dismissed the very notion that he may have never been exposed to the value of promptness at least in the classroom setting. It is possible that I was desensitized because of the homogeneous language styles and over usage of the “N” word throughout the school to receive any viable messages. The fact that he was a new student could have also been a contributing factor to his slowness to adjust to the lateness policy.

Whatever the case, our failure to see eye to eye on the issue of lateness was essentially due to the problems presented by standardization of the language and its rejection of the “N” word as profane. Each time my student was late I reminded him of the lateness policy conveniently placed on my bulletin board. Although this act was supposed to follow the “unifying function” of language referenced by Penalosa ,which addresses an adherence to the standardized form (87), my student in turn, responded to the formalized lateness policy with more lateness and colorful language, which is referred to as the “separatist function which preserved his integrity as a separate class” (87). It is only when I decided to have a series of “real” discussions with him in which I tried to give real life examples of the consequences of tardiness that he began to respond. For example, I asked him how he would feel if he lost a job or if someone he loved was hurt as a result. After these conversations his lateness was not as frequent but he still referred to me as “a different type a nigga”.

After this series of events I only had a chance to speak to this individual one final time. He seemed more at peace with his surroundings. Although he had not quite beaten the lateness problem, he was getting better. His lateness had decreased from 20 minutes after the bell to 5. When we spoke he said that he had a better understanding of what I meant and we had reached the “frame of reference” (87) function within our communication, which equally served us both even though he was no longer in my class. Later that night, he was killed in a gang related incident and I learned something new about language.
I realized that beneath all of the rules and theories of language, communication is always waiting to be utilized. Using the frame of reference style that Penalosa spoke of allowed me to see my student (whose name was Jalal by the way) as a person and not a dialect or a language variety.

The word he frequently used, started out as black (negro). It was transformed into an utterance that was used to enslave. Eventually, it developed a beat and became music to urban youth everywhere. To them, the definition of nigga was always black. They were never made to watch Alex Haley’s “Roots” on T.V. or be exposed to any of the historical resources that would cause violent responses to its usage. In fact, it would be safe to say that their exposure to the word has been more in a hip-hop context then any other. Because of my historical relationship to the word, I still cannot embrace it even with its new spelling. But despite the protests of older generations against it, it is as resilient as the spirits it was created to break. I find it interesting that throughout the last 3 decades nigger has become a different kind of word, creating a different kind of standard in a different kind of world. I have even considered the possibility that my student Jalal was paying me a compliment when he referred to me as such. It would be a shame if I let it be buried with him and by my own pompous.

With regard to 'literary competence'

The following is a paper I wrote for my linguistics class. Give it a read if it suits your interests.




"When a speaker of a language hears a phonetic sequence, he is able to give it meaning because he brings to the act of communication an amazing repertoire of conscious and unconscious knowledge"

-Jonathan Culler

It is perplexing at times to think about the many obstacles that exist in today's hyper communicative society. To some it would seem that the more we are given access to communication the more we fail at conveying the essence of a message. As a teacher of language arts I have become increasingly aware of the challenges to creating what Jonathan Culler refers to as literary competence. The obstacles faced by myself and many of my colleagues in (unwittingly) teaching this concept stems from deficiencies in the experience and lack of conventions in this area which Culler states are necessary to achieve it. I would venture further to assert that the experiential and conventional requirements needed to achieve literary competence are often missed due to an overwhelming reluctance amongst students to expand their worldview.
The starting point of a worldview [emphasis mine] for the speaker of a language according to Culler begins with respect to a particular grammar (131). When a new grammar is introduced as in a poem or another language, the reader references his experiences and conventions of his language to give it meaning. This is the basis for the dilemma that rears its head daily in the classroom. Students bring forth their own conventions and language that are steeped in violations to the “standard”. In many cases these violations of Standard English are not viewed as violations at all by the student and any corrections to the conventions set by them are met with reluctance and even hostility. For example, I once referred to a student’s missing homework excuse as one of many ‘smokescreens’, which he often uses to alleviate himself of the responsibility to turn them in on time. He responded with a frown and asked me what I meant by this statement and why I had to always ‘talk that old people talk that no one uses anymore’. After several attempts to explain the term with no success, I was forced to rely on a colloquialism that everyone in the class found entertaining because it was much more familiar to their standard of speech. In another example, while attempting to quiet down a particularly disruptive student, I was met with a dismissive request to ‘chill son’ which was her way of telling me to relax coupled with the use of the colloquial ‘son’ which could be translated as buddy, man or any other phrase appropriate to her peer group that would function as the object of her request to tell me to loosen up. This request of course had the opposite effect which led me to remind her that I was not her son. This dialogue is particularly notable because there were several dynamics in our interaction that occurred simultaneously. First, because we were both aware of what she meant by the use of the word ‘son’ I became offended because of the lack of respect exhibited against me as the adult. She on the other hand was offended because my response implied that I was pretending that I did not know what this word meant in the context in which she used it. What she was reluctant to acknowledge was that although I knew what she meant, it was still perceived as disrespectful because she addressed me by her use of the word as a peer and not as an adult. This was further illustrated when she replied to my response by saying ‘Mr. You are in our hood so you talk how we talk’.
Both of the examples described here illustrate the reluctance to accept the conventions and experience which creates Culler's particular grammar required to achieve understanding and relies on what he refers to as mastery of a literary system (132). The two individuals in these examples possess reluctance and hostility to the previously established conventions represented by me the teacher and in an effort not to betray the conventions, which they are establishing themselves outside of the classroom, are compelled to resist them. What I have observed as an educator is that this resistance is a defense mechanism created in response to a history of learning delays, which result in low self-esteem and as result standard English even in an established colloquial sense is not considered ‘real talk’. But that is a topic for another essay.
One way that I like to begin any unit on literature is by first introducing my students to the essential questions and themes of which will be present in what they are reading. For example, in a world literature class where we are currently studying The Odyssey, students were asked to write a short journal on what it means to be prepared for a journey as Odysseus needed to be on his long journey home. In this exercise students were asked to examine one of three quotes concerning the theme of preparation from John F. Kennedy, Confucius and the rapper known as Nas. Because of their familiarity with Nas many of the students picked him. The Nas quote was as follows:

‘I never sleep because sleep is the cousin of death’

One student’s response to this quote contained the following response:

“I agree with what Nas is saying in this quote because people die in their sleep all the time. My grandmother was one of them”.

The response here illustrates a point in which Culler uses Blake’s ‘Ah! Sun-flower’ as an example. He states that anyone who knows the language of English can interpret the words of the poem, but there is some distance between an understanding of the language and the thematic statement of the work’(132). The same thing occurs in the interpretation of the Nas Quote. Even in the presence of background information provided to show that all three quotes provided were centered on the theme of the importance of preparation, there was still difficulty in inferring that Nas was using the word ‘sleep’ as a metaphor for being prepared or aware. This example does not illustrate a lack of intelligence of the student in question, but it does show how his lack of literary competence even from a familiar milieu could be exploited by lack of experience in using the word sleep in any other context other than laying one’s head down and resting for the night. In hindsight, the realization is achieved that even using something as familiar as hip hop with certain students for purposes of teaching literary competence requires the references to be both current and familiar. In cases such as this utterances of literature come closer to achieving what is referred to by Culler as a ‘rules of significance’ which are defined as significant attitudes toward some problem concerning man and his relation to the universe (134). The student’s lack of competence in the situation described shows a failure to recognize sleep in the example as a problem faced by many who in this context sleepwalk through life and lack the preparation needed to be successful. In this case, sleep is more the cousin of a metaphorical death than the absolute death inferred by the student.
In addition to the timeliness and familiarity of literary references needed to promote literary competence there are also other solutions to the current dilemma that should be addressed. New practice in language arts must be developed in which media is integrated not just for the sake of having it in the classroom but to actually address our emerging society which in many cases places little or no value in the concept of process. This is of course very difficult in an age where many place a high value on efficiency. The ever-shortening attention spans of many of my students demand a more abbreviated 3.0 version of literary competence. The question then becomes how this new system will integrate knowledge of conventions and the reverence associated with them, which creates experience. In other words, can respect for literature be generated if the very process of learning it is accelerated? In an ideal sense, this new approach would have to be a system in which there is a constant stopping and starting of literary knowledge in which the words of literary masters are thrust into a digital format to address short attention spans of the multi-tasking masses and slowed to real time to influence their appreciation of it. As I skim through Cullers essay, I realize that I am doing this exact thing. But there is also a looming reality that my ability to process information in this way is bolstered by a real time education obtained from a pre-internet where there was more cohesive relationship between the learner and the learned. But again, this is a topic for another paper.

Craig's Comic Book Rant to be cont'd (again)

I was sitting in a workshop this morning which addresses various techniques of intervention to use with problem kids. Admittedly, today's session was a bit boring until it began to address the kinds of kids I deal with on a daily basis. The profile presented showed a kid who is in essence following the road of a sociopath. The presenter went on to explain that this type of kid is often the hardest to deal with simply because his behaviors are almost never followed with any feelings of remorse. For example, in the least extreme case this student may be a thief. His response to such an act would be that the individual he stole from should not have left his valuables unprotected, therefore alleviating himself of the blame. This of course struck a strong chord in me because this is the type of student that I encounter everyday. It also brings insight to why all of my rants and appeals to these individuals are often met with blank stares, interruptions and wise cracks. It was also noted that these individuals exhibit these behaviors as a coping mechanism to deal with the many traumatic events of their lives...a fact that was very evident to me before I took this class. However, it does not negate the fact that it would behoove the individual to always be aware of the causes.

Now here is where it gets real: I could not help but realize that many of these individuals have no problem admitting their crimes if given the right amount of publicity when doing so. When I witnessed the thief in question intricately describing the strategies of his many capers it reminded me of an episode of 20/20 where a mass murderer in infinite detail tells the interviewer about his many heinous crimes. My question then was are we teaching this generations future sociopaths? My instructor then replied that although many of our students do indeed possess sociopathic tendencies, they don't all have to be criminals. And to further illustrate her point she said "A sociopath doesn't have to be a criminal...he could become Dick Cheney or any American CEO. A very sobering thought indeed!

Now what does this all have to do with comics? Anyone who is familiar with the whole Batman saga knows that he himself could be considered a sociopath in his own right. He dresses in a bat suit and through techniques of extreme violence and intimidation guards Gotham City. His arch nemesis the Joker on the other hand uses the same techniques to keep the city in constant terror. These characters are in essence two sides of the same coin. Which brings me closer to the frightening realization that as I sit in my classroom from day to day in front of groups of potential future sociopaths, I have been given the charge and the dilemma of influencing them to become batmen and batwomen as opposed to future jokers. Laughable? Maybe. Maybe I've just read too many damn comic books. But one thing is certain. We live in a country that is 5% of the world's population and 25% of its prison inmates. This is appalling! If a man in spandex and a cape can help me cope with such a fact then so be it.

I encourage everyone to be safe, be caring and be well.

I was having a drink with a friend a few nights ago and we got to talking about my latest upcoming adventure in fatherhood. He said that in a conversation with one his friends she used the phrase "game over" when he informed her that my fiance' and I were having a new addition to our family. I have to say that I was slightly annoyed by this at first but after mulling it over in my mind over the past few days, i decided to take her statement as a compliment. I became reassured that in this world of individuals who wish to be forever 21, every aspect of life is a game.

So let's say for sake of argument that my newest status as a future father of 2 completely takes me out of "the game". Does this mean that I am no longer a "player" or does it mean that the game for me has merely changed? Her statement made me realize that I am actually at the advance stages of the game on a level where most either lose immediately or don't even bother to participate. Unfortunately we live in a society where many are still playing on level 1 in a contest that is no longer relevant to their lives. In other words the old guy or girl at the club is very much like the ace at Ms. Pac-man when everyone else has moved on to Grand Theft Auto. Now don't get me wrong I am far from a master. But neither was Michael Jordan at first. My parents weren't master of the game either. But they are still together and I am thoroughly impressed. So that being said. Here's to all of the couples out there young and old who are still striving to be masters of the game.