Stories From A Streaker

2011-05-02T21:46:00.001-04:00

The Blessing is in the Struggle and Growth Through Fasting

I do not know the complete history of Lent, nor do I claim to be an avid observer of the 40 days from Ash Wednesday leading up to Easter, but I must say that there is something to be said for the practice of fasting – whatever that thing is that you’re giving up. I have recently found myself to be in one of the biggest ruts of my life. Almost three years later after my big move to the Big Apple, I have found no Christian community that challenges me in significant ways; I am continuing to question the impact I’ve made on the learning of my students; I have been rejected from a couple of incredibly exciting opportunities that I believed I was not only qualified for but a perfect fit for. I am also growing less in my passion the serve the less fortunate, becoming less a channel of God’s love, and finding myself to be increasingly polluted by this world. James 1:27 says, “Spirituality that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” I don’t believe I am practicing this pure and faultless spirituality James is writing of. In fact I know I’m not.

Why? I try! I long to be a channel of God’s love and want nothing more than a cultivating Christian community. Why is it not happening?

Through daily prayer and reading scripture I have realized two things: I need to give something up to show my discipline and commitment to the Word of God, and that the greatest time of spiritual growth in my life came when I was inundating my brain with messages that God not only conveys through the Bible but also other children of God like Shane Claiborne, Erwin McManus, Lupe Fiasco, Banksy, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and others. And while not all of them claim to know Christ, they nonetheless spoke to me in significant ways that drew me to understanding the Bible in new ways. This is when I began to really live out my faith.

So, in pondering what exactly that ‘thing’ is that I’m supposed to give up, I must say I knew right away what God wanted me to take a break from: Television. For those of you who don’t know, I watch television the way hipsters enjoy being ironic: enthusiastically and abundantly. I always justified it because there is a wealth of remarkable TV programming out there: Jersey Shore. Cougar Town. The Real Housewives of D.C. (All kidding aside, check out Friday Night Lights and Breaking Bad if you haven’t…two high quality shows that not enough people watch).

What I’ve now come to realize, however, is that our mental environment can become easily polluted depending on the messages that are cluttering it. When I spend two hours a night watching depictions of secular living that tells me that what’s important is promiscuous sex, drinking, making and spending money, and glamour, I’m bound to ultimately adopt some (not ALL) of those practices…or at least become weakened to where I question my beliefs on the merits of being abnormal (even though we’re asked to be aliens of this world). This is how the world lives, even people who call themselves Christian, so it’s okay for be to “live” a little. Yet, here I am, the unhappiest I’ve been probably since middle school.

So, during my television fast, I’m going to be replacing the messages that are crowding my mental environment. This means that I will have a full two hours to not only spend reading God’s words but also hopefully allowing him to speak through mine. So, while I don’t promise to write more than a few blog posts, I will sporadically be updating this blog during the month of May, which I hope to be the month of Movement. To get started, let me share the messages I received last night:

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, wherever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking in anything…Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.”” James 1:2-4, 12
Or, as Lupe Fiasco puts it, “Don’t forget, the blessing is in the struggle.”

I began my fasting last night, and I think God rewarding me with these apt verses, don’t you?

for the wild,
andrew

Home is Whenever I’m With You

2010-09-06T15:19:00.004-04:00

Dear Loved Ones,

For some reason I cannot yet place, it’s been a tough transition back to New York. For one thing, I had the best summer imaginable and the thought of returning to the challenging work ahead never looks fun from this vista. In addition, much of my circle of friends from the past two years have relocated to different locations across the nation and the majority of those who have stayed in NYC have moved on to different jobs and thus different circles, beginning new lives. Sure I’ve only been back a couple weeks, but I don’t, in any way, feel like I’ve returned home.

At the same time, when I was in San Diego I didn’t quite get that sense of home either. Yes, I had an incredible time in SD, enjoyed every minute spent with my wonderful family and friends, and was tempted almost daily to quit my NYC job, get an apartment by Petco Park and move back to the most beautiful city in the world, but it still just didn’t feel like home. Not in the present “ah, home sweet home” sense at least. (San Diego will ALWAYS be home in the way that Austria will always be home to Schwarzenegger).

A funny thing happened when I had just gotten in the long and winding security line at the San Diego airport to return to New York: I tossed on my iPod, recently filled with new songs, and one of my new favorites began the shuffle. The chorus of this song, by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes, goes:

“Home

Yes I am home

Home is whenever

I’m with you”

This put a giant smile on my face. Why? It was a reminder to me that my home isn’t here on Earth but in Heaven, and I’m doing God’s work, following His call for me to help the less fortunate through teaching, showing students love, some of whom have never had someone to love and care for them. There are going to be challenges, and God never promises an easy journey, but what He does promise is a Home in Him, and Home is whenever I’m with Him. I can’t say I’m happy to have absent the physical sense of home, but I know that the blessing is in the struggle, and I really couldn’t imagine being happier with where I am in my life as exciting things are happening, exciting things are to come, and they’re all blessings from following Him. I am Home.

(You can check out the song and video here. Now, if you do check it out you will notice that it’s actually a romantic song, but as Cartman showed us in South Park, any romantic song can be turned into a Christian song by changing a few key words)

for the wild,

andrew

End of Year Blog

2010-06-27T22:11:00.003-04:00

Dear Loved Ones,

While my blogging has become more and more sparse throughout my experience as a Teach For America corps member, I find it necessary to put a proper ending to this 2-year journey in the form of a reflective blog. One thing I’m sure most of you aren’t aware of is that I instituted blogging in my 9^th grade ESL classes this year, where I had my students use sentence starters to reflect on their learning and triumphs from throughout the week every Friday. We capped off the year with an “End of the Year” blog, so I figured: Why not do one of my own?

Now, I know that I have discussed with some of you my plans for the near future, but as most of you are probably unaware, let me update you before I move on: Next year I will be staying with my school for a third year again as the 9^th grade ESL teacher. As I teach next year, I will be applying to three different opportunities, all within education: Teach overseas (preferably in Spain); Fulbright scholarship for teaching abroad, and; Harvard Doctorate in Educational Leadership. So, as I am not halting my teaching experience just yet, I think it proper to not end on a note of conclusiveness, but rather one of reflection.

What I have come up with in my reflections are five major take-aways…things I have come away with and learned throughout my time as a New York City public school teacher living in one of the culture capitals of the world. Here we go!

1) The Education System in our Country is Ugly

I know that many of you would agree, before you’ve even seen any statistics. To those of you who are parents, you’ve most likely seen your student’s education both rise in cost and decline in quality. While I do submit that part of this is due to politics and government, I hope you don’t see the problem as being there and only there. Teach For America likes to talk about “Locus of Control”: this idea that, as a teacher, you really don’t have complete control over all aspects of your students’ lives: where they go home, who they go home to, how they eat, etc. We need to instead focus on the things we are able to change. With this, I believe a large part of the problem with our education system is that we as citizens just don’t really give a crap. We spend all of our time arguing political issues like gay marriage, going to war, health care, abortion, etc. and while these are important issues to many, I don’t understand how we have neglected the decline of quality education for our youth without so much as a silent raising of the hand in the back of the room of the national discussion. I’m going to take things a bit farther too: While education in general has gotten worse, how do you think the education for our low-income students has become?

I’m going to try to shorten this up a bit and give some scary statistics:

a. The national graduation rate is about 68% (1/3 of our students don’t graduate high school!)

b. The graduation rate for Whites and Asians are 75% to 77%

c. The graduation rates for students who attend school in high poverty, racially segregated, and urban school districts lag from 15% to 18% percent behind their peers (which is referred to as the “achievement gap”)

d. In New York City, about 30% of Hispanic males graduate high school in four years.

Some offer that the problem of the achievement gap is the parents: The absent father. The 16-year old mother. The abuse. The neglect. But blaming this on the parents is too easy and largely uniformed for us from privileged backgrounds to do. It’s a cycle. Listen to my stories, read my past blogs, and then I think you’ll see what I’m talking about.

2) Change is Possible

This summer I’ll be working at one of the most amazing and incredibly successful experiments in urban education: The Harlem Children’s Zone. (Watch the commercial American Express put together about them). Basically, this revolutionary idea was realized by Geoffrey Canada, who saw a cycle in Harlem that needed to be broken. What he did was set up a network of programs and schools that aimed to solve the problem near the beginning: He would see young pregnant girls walking around the streets of Harlem and bring them in, offering them classes on how to parent while promising them that if their child was raised in the network, attended a HCZ school from pre-kindergarten through high school, that their child would not only graduate and go to college, but graduate college as well. My job this summer will be to see this through as I prepare 17-21 year olds to pass the entrance exams to community colleges, which will allow them to bypass the remedial courses which cost money and provide no credits: a dropout point for many low-income students who can’t afford to do this.

In addition to this network and many incredible charter schools, there is a new film that was just released called The Lottery. The trailer can be found here, and the reason I am so optimistic about this film is the potential it has to finally start the national discussion on the achievement gap. The film might be able to do for education what An Inconvenient Truth did for Global Warming, and let’s hope and pray that is does because we need a sense of urgency; the time for true change needs to be now.

3) A Glass Can Only Spill What it Contains

These are lyrics that come from a mewithoutYou song that is about the need to fill yourself up with everything that you want to give out. If I want to love, I need to first have love to give. If I want to mentor others, I need to have good advice to give, coming from experience and perspective. If I want to show others what it means to live a Godly life, I need to first know the Bible and know what it means to live a Godly life. If you want to set the example of how to have a long lasting marriage, you need to have a long lasting and successful marriage. Etc.

I have seen such a great need for a spiritually absent and selfish city like New York City to experience the love of God on a daily basis, yet I have found it such a struggle to do my part every single day. I’ve wanted to badly to just be a channel of God’s love, but I don’t always have anything in my cup to spill. Whether it was because I fostered malicious thoughts in my heart, neglected to read the Word during the week, or forgot to pray that God would use me as a channel to pour out his love, I often failed in my attempts to love and to care as I was just as empty as the person I was trying to help. I recently heard a quote: “If someone asks you if the glass is half empty or half full, respond by asking them ‘Who said it’s not filled to the brim?’”

If I were to get a tattoo, it surely would be a wine glass filled to the brim spilling over with the text, “A glass can only spill what it contains.”

4) Humans Are Meant to Live in Community

My biggest struggle in living as a Christian in New York City: lack of a Christian community. My roommate is “straight edge.” This mean that he doesn’t drink, smoke, or do any drugs of any kind. He listens to hardcore music and has so many tattoos that he will have to wear long sleeve shirts to work for the rest of his life, or at least until this generation has completely taken over the work force. He has a community, and he hasn’t “broken edge” at all because he has a support system of friends who go to the same concerts, eat the same veggie food, and drink the same Coca-colas at bars with him.

When I was back home in San Diego, or at school at Pepperdine, this is exactly what I had: community; Friends who had the same radical ideas of changing the world as me. People I could see Lupe Fiasco with one night and Radiohead with the next. Movie lovers who would see the latest indie flick with me on any given night. Fellow abstinents (yes I made the adjective into a noun) who understood that dating a girl with the same values was a requirement, not something to be compromised not matter how attractive a girl might be. These are absent here, and let me tell you that this is my biggest single critique on living in New York City. Life is meant to be lived in community, and NYC is a community of secular living that is largely absent of true community and fellowship.

(Also, just watch the film Up in the Air)

5) The Rat Race is an Unfair and Stupid Competition

The above comes from that Bansky quote that has guided this blog and gave it it’s name, but I use this part of the larger quote here to discuss the way in which ambition and selfishness blind those who succumb to them from true happiness. What I have witnessed as a professional has been disappointing and appalling. What I have witnessed this year many of you who have been in the work force have known for years: That politics, jealousy, cattiness, hunger for power, etc. are a pervasive force in this world that prevents us from simply loving others and being productive.

When I was first looking around for a home church two years ago, I had listened to a sermon from a pastor who was addressing a congregation I thought would be my community for a couple years. They were creative, loving, and young. His sermon was a personalized message to this specific community that revealed something I really didn’t feel I wanted to be a part of: He said, “I know that none of you sitting in this church right now moved out to Manhattan to take a pay decrease, and, say, become a teacher.” My reaction: “That’s EXACTLY why I came out here!” And I was proud of that. But upon reflection and prayer, I realized that I didn’t want to become a part of a community where I was the outlier; where people followed their ambition to the point that their end goal was a raise and a promotion and their name in a publication rather than changing a life or being changed by the resilience and pure joy from the marginalized and less fortunate. While I’m not offering that I live a better, less sinful life by any means, or that you must be a teacher or missionary or full-time philanthropist to help others, what I realized is that you must first question why you live for your life, and whom you live your life for. The pastor of my now home church, Dr. Tim Keller, recently put it this way (not verbatim):

“Think about where you root your life: A person who roots their life in their job will be crushed when they lose their job, or don’t get a promotion. A person who roots their life in their status and possessions and money will have a similar reaction when they lose these temporary things. A person who roots themselves in Christ will not be crushed by these things or look at others in jealousy.”

What do you root yourself in?

This was shoved into my face when the guy next to me at Starbucks spilled his coffee on my expensive shoes. Too embarrassed by how much I paid I won’t document the price here, but let’s just say that I was pretty upset initially. I wanted to say something in anger towards him, but then I thought about how stupid it is that I invest my money and “root myself” in things that can get ruined just like that, and cause me to emotionally harm another human being rather than show kindness and love, which is fortunately what my “glass” had just enough of.When I was in the Dominican Republic, I saw a similar dual reaction in one of the volunteers who was playing basketball with one of the orphans when he dropped his expensive Ray-Ban sunglasses. The kid accidentally stepped on them, causing the volunteer to react with a loud curse word. Realizing how stupid his reaction was and that here he is getting upset at an orphan with nothing, not even parents, for stepping on a pair of sunglasses that he could afford from a weeks worth of work he quickly stepped in to apologize and put a smile back on the kids face.

These examples are admittedly on a very small scale in the grand scheme of things, but people often don’t live their lives thinking this way. They root their lives in their jobs, status, wealth, etc. and the only way that I can be of any use to God’s kingdom is to show others that life isn’t meant to be lived like this. It needs to start with me, and it’s another cup that I need to fill. My interactions with colleagues have often left me disappointed and frustrated. They have shown me that the rate race is an unfair and STUPID competition, and I want to streak!

Take these reflections for what you will, I thank you so much for your support over the last two years, five years, twenty-four years even because if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have had these lessons to learn and be the person that I am today.

for the wild,

andrew

The Blessing is in the Struggle

2009-11-29T12:23:00.000-05:00

Dear Loved Ones,

I believe this is my first blog entry during this second school year, and this is a shame. Believe me, I have tried to write, but each time it just didn’t feel like writing, and my blogs really are as much or more for me than they are for you. I apologize to those of you who just want updates…feel free to give me a call or send me an email and we can have that personal communication and I’d be happy to do that. But I want to reserve my blog for something different…something that will allow me to express my challenges, wonderings, or experiences in a way that will help me grow and also you, hopefully in some way.

I sit down to write this entry as this year has presented many challenges that are in some ways making this year more difficult than last. You see, you always hear that your first year of teaching is the toughest, the worst! This is mainly because you have NO CLUE what the heck you’re doing. You don’t know how to lesson plan. You don’t know how to manage students. You don’t know how to be as effective as you’d like to be. You begin questioning yourself: Why did I sign up for this? Can I really make a difference? Can I even make it through this year? Am I doing more good than harm by being in this classroom? These questions are extremely typical for a first year teacher, and yet I don’t believe I ever asked myself one of them last year.

The second year is supposed to be leaps and bounds better than year one. You know what you’re doing and you get to start out fresh. You have an air of confidence and believe that this year is going to be amazing, filled with incredible student growth and you’ll get to take credit for it. This year did, in fact, begin this way. It felt so awesome during September and every other second-year teacher I know all felt the same. It was incredible, to feel like you have a handle on this profession, that you don’t need to pray to just get through the week, but you pray that you have enough time with the students to accomplish all that you know you and they are capable of. This was September.

Today it’s November. Dread creeps in with thoughts about going to work tomorrow because the students have slowly but surely begun to take over the class. More and more battles are losing ones, and the true confidence once felt when an administrator walked into the classroom in September now turns into fear that those same people will come in for a visit. What happened? How did my class turn around so quickly? How is this year so different from last?

Well, last year, almost all of my students were recent immigrants. With this, though many of them lacked education and basic abilities present in 5^th graders, I had incredibly invested and well behaved students. While my friends had stories about students physically pushing them, or not being able to teach one word of their lesson because the students simply decided they had their own agenda (which included playing games and cussing at the teacher when they attempted to stop the behavior), my headaches came from one student who talked out 2 or 3 times during the lesson. I didn’t even feel like I was allowed to complain last year because I really didn’t face challenges even close to what my colleagues were facing at different schools. (To be fair to myself, none of my friends had to walk into a class for an hour and a half and teach the entire time in English to a roomful of kids who didn’t speak a word).

This year, however, I finally get to experience the students that we call “Americanized.” These are the kids with the foul language, pants literally below their butts, knives in their knickers, babies in their bellies, you know the type. I could go in depth into what made this community (the poorest congressional district in the nation) turn into the awful and dangerous place it is. I could explain why 95% of its inhabitants are Black or Hispanic and how our nation neglects to believe that this type of place exists, or that the story of Claireece ‘Precious’ Jones is not a unique one. We would end up tracing it back to segregation and then slavery and that people today just blame it on black fathers not being fathers, neglecting to realize that NO ONE is helping them and that these fathers grew up with out fathers (or positive male influences) and that their fathers’ fathers were either imprisoned for being black or lynched (or just simply not given opportunities to be educated). Let’s forget about this terrible history for a second and look at the present: The term that’s used to describe these students is “Americanized.” Funny how many people would think this term should mean free, or liberated, or full of opportunities, yet it comes to mean something that represents the complete opposite ideal of the “American Dream” even while those who it describes are pursuing just that. And while my students say that they want to find a way out, to go to college and not become drug dealers like their cousins, I can’t shake the idea that I’m failing to help them do so. I allow them to behave badly when they don’t know any better. I allow them to distract other students and hold back my consequences for bad behavior because I feel sorry for them, and know that for many of them a phone call home would mean a black eye or bruises in areas that could easily be concealed from a teacher. But I’m brought back to a conversation between Coach Boone and Coach Yoast in Remember the Titans: The white coach was caught ‘babying’ the black players when he felt bad for them. He wanted to show that he wasn’t racist. When he told Coach Boone (Denzel Washington) to lay off one of the black players, Boone calls him out. He says that Coach Yoast doesn’t baby the white players when he (Boone) yells as them, but every time he hurts the feelings of a black player Coach Yoast is right there beside him to help him through it. He tells him that this does nothing to help the players. They don’t need handouts because this will continue to hold them back.

Similarly, one of the main problems in education with the achievement gap, is that wealthy white students are told they have no excuses. Their teachers have high expectations, they believe that they can achieve at high levels and expect no less. Our country has told the poor black and Latino student that they can’t achieve, that we need to have lower expectations for them. This is so completely false, and while I know this and wholeheartedly believe this, I am not following my beliefs when I don’t come down on my students. I am not keeping them at high expectations, I just decide that it’s easier to let them win the battle at times…but it’s only easier for me, and I’m not, then, doing the job I came out here to do. Now I ask myself, in this second year, “Why did I sign up for this? Can I really make a difference? Can I even make it through this year? Am I doing more good than harm by being in this classroom?”

To be clear: I write this not for pity, or for emails of support like “You can do it…you’re doing a great job. You’re doing better than you think.” That’s not what I need. I just need to be honest with myself. I need to write this blog, to have it on paper, to admit this to you and to me and to the Internet. I need to read it again and again until I have changed. I don’t have any Christian or community supports out here to admit this to (which has been an additional struggle) so I decide to write to you. I am challenged. Through Christ, I will prevail. My students will achieve way more this year than last because of what I am going through right now. Step one: Admit you have a problem. Done. As Lupe Fiasco states, “And don’t forget, the blessing is in the struggle.” Thanks for reading.

for the wild,

andrew

Contract for Success

2009-09-09T18:48:00.003-04:00

Below is the contract I am having my advanced English speaking class sign. I love them already and I can't wait to see their progress throughout the year. I am also including my contract to them.

A CONTRACT FOR SUCCESS

I, ___________________________________ , want to succeed at the Academy for Language and Technology and to achieve in life. To help me with this, becoming a fully bilingual individual will allow me many opportunities to be the successful professional that I want to be in my life. In wanting to become a fully bilingual individual I need to do well in my English classes at A.L.T. To start, I pledge the following:

I pledge to be in class, on time, and prepared to do my best work all the time.
I pledge to try my best to speak only English in Mr. Simmerman’s class, except when instructed differently, or if I absolutely need translation help.
I pledge to be honest and not make excuses.
I pledge to respect Mr. Simmerman, other teachers, staff, my school, my peers, and myself all the time.
I pledge to bring my personality to this class in order to create a fun, engaging, challenging, and successful classroom.
I pledge to support my peers and give help where help is needed.
I pledge to learn, laugh, and challenge myself to become a better student and person in Mr. Simmerman’s class.

Signature _________________________________________________

Date ____________

A CONTRACT TO HELP YOU SUCCEED

I, Mr. Simmerman, want you to succeed at the Academy for Language and Technology and to achieve in life. It is my goal to help you become fully bilingual individuals, as it will allow you many opportunities to be the successful professionals that you want to be in your lives. In helping you become fully bilingual individuals, I need to do all that I can to challenge you, set high expectations, and give you the support that you need to find success in all of your English classes. To start, I pledge the following:

I pledge to be in class, on time, and prepared to do my best work all the time.
I pledge to challenge you to speak only English in my class, except for a few times when Spanish will be allowed, or if you absolutely need some translation help.
I pledge to be honest and not make excuses.
I pledge to respect every student, other teachers, staff, my school, my peers, and myself all the time.
I pledge to set an example of what respect, loyalty, honesty, integrity, fairness, resilience, and humility look like.
I pledge to bring my personality to this class in order to create a fun, engaging, challenging, and successful classroom.
I pledge to support every student and give extra help where help is needed, even if it means staying after school with students.

I pledge to learn, laugh, and challenge myself to become a better teacher and person for the students in this class.

Signature _________________________________________________

Date ____________

A win

2009-03-22T22:24:00.001-04:00

Dear Loved Ones,

I wanted to share with you a “win” I’ve had with my (advanced) students this week. Without going into much detail as I should be in bed right now, I was able to facilitate a conversation with my advanced English speaking class (though the convo was in Spanish) where 3 of the biggest troublemakers of the class turned into leaders as they realized the opportunities ahead of them and how they’ve been blowing it in their efforts. They began to discuss how they need to all pull together as a class to make the most out of the rest of the year and become achievers and set themselves on paths for success. They asked me if I had anything to share and I was able to, first the first time, feel like I could inspire them and really communicate my belief in their abilities (on a week where I’ve mostly felt like a failure). I followed up this conversation with an email (we have a school website and all have email address…visit it at: alteagles.org) and I am sharing this with you below…I received my first (and probably only) reply to the email and wanted to share that as well (short but amazingly sweet).

Dear Bañuelos,

As I reflect on our discussion in class today I feel very inspired by your potential. I know that each and every one of you has special abilities that will help you go very far in life. YOU CAN ALL BECOME SUCCESSFUL!

The reason I told you that only 23% of Hispanic High School students in NYC graduated last year was not because I wanted to scare you or discourage you. I don't want you to think that it is too difficult. I hope that seeing this number of Latino graduates gives you the push and the motivation, that you need to achieve. Si se puede! We are in a special school and you can all graduate and go to college! You are all brilliant students and every time we have a visitor they always tell me what wonderful teenagers you all are.

I feel very luck as a teacher to have you as students and I hope that I can help you go in the right direction, to be a success in life, and to always achieve in everything you do.

I know this email was long (and is a lot of English) but I needed to send this to you.

Have a safe and wonderful weekend! See you all on Monday.

-Mr. Simmerman

“Thank you for your help to learn English.”

-MG

Maybe it's not much of a response to you, but it is to me...and I wanted to share.

for the wild,

andrew

I'm here...

2009-03-03T17:37:00.001-05:00

So I’m writing right now, and it feels a bit weird somehow. Maybe it’s because I haven’t written an entry about my students in a while or maybe it’s because I continue to find ways to procrastinate and push away my lesson plans for tomorrow, but whatever it is, I’m writing…and it might be more for me than for you.

I just spoke with a good friend who is doing Teach For America next year and was prompted to write after I put down the phone. Jess is an incredible person who is passionate about serving others and loving God’s children and in many ways inspired me to do what I am doing today. When I found out that she had job offers from TFA, Invisible Children, and International Justice Mission last year, I decided that I needed to get my butt in gear and find ways to streak for a living. I then applied for Teach For America, and here I am today. So when Jess talks to me about her fears, or wonderings rather, about what’s to come in the following two-year commitment, or if teaching should even happen for her it’s a little weird for me to be in this position of experience as it was I who was asking her for advice during the interview process.

When I first heard that Jess was wondering if TFA was right for her, I needed to call her right away and see why. She told me that she had been doing a lot of reading on what the organization believes and wasn’t sure if she really agreed with some of the major philosophies of Teach For America. The biggest one she is having problems with is: ALL children can succeed…it’s up to the teacher to get them to. Teach For America believes in setting high expectations and believing that EACH and EVERY child can achieve greatness; that our students in low-income communities can pass the same exams, graduate with the same high schools standards, and get into the same great colleges as their wealthier counterparts.
After my experience with students like Victor, an immigrant from the Dominican Republic who is ILLITERATE in his own Spanish language with parents who are struggling to find work and keep them in the states I begin to wonder how much I believe this. I am reminded of Marino who, try as he might, still has Mount Everest to climb. In fact, new statistics came out recently about the graduation rate of immigrant students (aka MY students): 23% of eligible immigrant students graduated in 2008. 23 %! I am supposed to believe that it is mine and the other teachers’, principals’, and educators’ fault that this rate is not the above the 60% graduation rate of the white, higher-income students?

Here is what I know: I love my students. I hope for my students. I work my ass off for my students. I try as HARD as I can to give them the gift of the English language, which without they will never receive the opportunities to succeed in this faltering country of ours. All I can do is love. All I can do is try. I need to forgive myself and my students when we fail. I need to pick myself back up daily and KNOW that God placed me here for a reason…He put me here to give these kids the love that many of them do not receive at home. I am here to represent white, Christian, straight, able-bodied, wealthy males…to expose these kids to someone of the color that often oppresses them and let them know that I am on their side…that I truly believe that they deserve a chance to succeed in this life. But “We all need someone to take out the trash” (I’ve heard this before)…I am here to fervently argue that it shouldn’t be because lack of opportunity…I am here to teach them how to love and how to care. I am here to teach them respect, and that they will receive respect when they give respect. I am here to love them.

Maybe this doesn’t make me a good teacher…maybe these things just make me a good mentor and role model. But as I know that God has me here for these reasons, he is allowing me to teach them along the way. Because my students know this is why I am here, they try for me…they learn for me…and maybe they will achieve for me. Regardless of how we get to the places where we are, if we are where God wants us to be then He will work through us and we don’t have to worry if we are doing a good job or not because God’s work is always and will always be GOOD.

for the wild,

andrew

Gratuity and Giving to ALL Who Ask

2009-01-19T14:01:00.000-05:00

Gratuity and Giving to All Who Ask

I was reading an interview with my favorite author Shane Claiborne the other day and he brought up a verse that oddly enough I had never heard, or taken to heart, before. Luke 6:30 says, “Give to everyone who asks of you, and whoever takes away what is yours, do not insist on getting it back.” You know, I actually remember this verse now…but it said something different to me, or was taught differently to me, than the way it speaks to me today. I remember this verse as saying “Don’t expect your money back when you loan it to friends,” not what it actually says in “Give to EVERYONE who ASKS.”

Shane says that he takes this verse to heart…that he literally gives to ALL who ask. What an idea. I always seem to justify why I do not give to many people on the Subway. “If I gave to everyone then I would be broke….so I just don’t give…they’re stories are complete lies anyways…I’ll would buy them food, but I’m on a Subway.” I’m reminded of Larry David in Curb Your Enthusiasm where he jokes/complains about how he has to tip everyone he comes in contact with…the taxi driver, the doorman, the guy that brings his bags to the hotel room, and so on and so on. The crazy thing is, we all tip these people. We tip our haircutters. We tip our baristas, our waiters. I’ve benefited much from tipping in the past. What strikes me is odd is that this is the social norm and yet we don’t always give to those who ask…who probably need it more. Wait, they’ll probably spend it on alcohol or cigarettes…or gamble it…they’re story is complete BS anyways, right? “Give to EVERYONE who ASKS of you.”

My roommate Nick is a great guy with a huge heart. As most of you heard about the “Miracle on the Hudson” last week where a heroic pilot safely landed all 155 people on board the US Airways flight in the Hudson River, my friend Nick hadn’t watched the news that day. The first time he heard about the story was when a woman and her kid approached him at a coffee shop and said they were on the plane. She worriedly told him that they had no place to stay and no food to eat and they were supposed to move to her cousin’s place out in North Carolina, but when the plane went down they were back on the streets. She told him that she needed groceries and had a list of things for him to buy if he had it in his heart to help out…and of course he had it in his heart. My first reaction to this story was “Baloney. If she was really on that plane she would be having a debriefing with authorities and then have a bomb hotel suite waiting for her.” Instantly realizing how callous and un-Christian my sentiment was I added (more for my sake than for his) “You know what though, she needed it. However much she was lying, she truly needed your help.” It was at this moment that my attitude changed.

This is my new attitude: I don’t care if you are lying. I don’t care if you say the same exact made-up thing every single day to convince the tourists to help you out…I need to help you out. “Give to EVERYONE who asks of you.” My point about the tipping earlier is this: If we give 20 percent to people who are doing their job (and only 15 to those who aren’t doing it so well) then why can’t we also give to people who NEED it and ASK for it? The second part of that verse was to “Not insist on getting it back.” I think we should read this as “(Do) not insist on getting any sort of payment in return.” Let’s all just give to those who ask, no matter what…wouldn’t that be radical? I’ll take the lead.

for the wild,

andrew

Public Schools in America is Where Class Becomes Caste

2008-11-03T20:09:00.000-05:00

I don’t really don’t think that I have the emotional strength and energy to completely do this “update” of sorts justice, but I’ll try.
You are reading this because you are a person of love – for me, for the poor, and for children. Having this knowledge of who you are is important because I know that no matter what I write in this update, I will still be loved and supported – and this comforts me because I hardly have much energy to write.
All I ask of you is that you ponder and think about the title of this update – “Public Schools in America is Where Class Becomes Caste.” Think about what this means…think about the implications of what this means to my children – 99% new immigrants from down south (Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Panama, Ecuador, Mexico, and El Salvador). Most of my students have had the poorest and most interrupted educations in the world and now they are asked to completely turn things around to make a life for themselves. They are asked - with 3rd grade level skills, parents using welfare stamps, very little knowledge of English, and warped perceptions that education makes you less Latino – to compete with the wealthy, privileged students who have grown up with the best education, parents that always provided a meal and a place to sleep (a much, much more), in a house where education and going to college means everything from early on. How are they supposed to – or how could they want to, rather – compete in this type of society? Why should they even try?
They should try because they deserve the same opportunities, They should try because we know better – we know that God created all of us. We know that these are our young brothers and sisters. We know that they come from another country, but country and language are worthless in the Nation of God – the Nation of Humanity – the Nation that has no borders or prejudice. I ask that you fight this gap by doing your part to provide for my students some very needed resources that will allow me to catch these students up – or try at least; resources that will give them the incentive and engagement that they need to break stereotypes and become invested.
My students are incredible kids and have high ambitions and it is our job, our obligation, as the resourced to provide the equality in opportunities that the system will always fail to provide. Email me if you’re interested: andreweatworld32@gmail.com

for the wild,

andrew

The Feeling

2008-10-06T21:55:00.000-04:00

Dear Loved Ones,

As I sit here, waiting for my laundry to dry in the Laundromat next to my apartment, I watch three alcoholics, wasted out of their minds, attempt to fight anyone who doesn’t shake their drunk hands or say hi when walking by. (They are all over 50 years old.)
This sight is more than just a terribly sad one. This sight inflicts a tense feeling inside me that I have felt almost every day over the past few weeks. I have experienced this feeling on the Subway, walking back to my apartment, and outside the window of my school. Although I can’t quite describe this feeling I can remember feeling it for the very first time.
It was a normal morning two and a half weeks ago. I took the 6 train up one stop and got out on 125th street station to transfer to the 4. I was in my normal place on the platform, at the normal time, feeling the normal state of extreme sleepiness only to find the normality interrupted by a haunting sound and motion behind me. Quick to turn my neck with the rest of the crowd I noticed a tooth fly to ground as a 17 or 18 year old girl holds her bleeding mouth, in shock. The woman who smacked her harder than any hit to the face I have ever seen was an unrelated, unknown 30 something mother. She had her 4 or 5 year old son right behind her. Waiting for the girl to strike back, the platform was silent. That was it though, and as the mom yelled at the girl something about protecting her son and old Hispanic woman screamed “Llame la policia! Llame la policia!” (call the police)
As confused as you probably are about what caused the altercation, I stepped onto the train. Two minutes into the ride I learned that the girl shoved the mom’s son out of the way as she walked off the train moments before and mouthed off to her when the mother informed the girl of her mistake. I learned this from the father who had to calm his young 5 year old son down. I listened with that feeling in full tact as the son showed extreme fear in his eyes asking “Daddy, are we safe?” The Dad informs the son why the young girl was hit and said “This is why we are on the way to school…so you can become smart and use your head instead of your hands to solve problems. Only people who aren’t smart enough use violence as an answer.”
As the feeling died down that day it crept up again on me the next day. Doing work in the teacher’s center at my school my attention was disrupted by the change in the noise outside. Instead of hearing the sound of kids playing I heard noise that sounded a bit off; it sounded like fighting. I was right and it took longer than what should be expected to stop it too. (the fighting wasn’t between students at my school but the school below us).
I felt the feeling again the next day as I was sharing my stories with another teacher who told me one of hers. Walking back from our school to the subway station she said she witnessed a horrific sight. She heard a man yelling at another man, “Give me my money!” while a third man was being chased by a pit bull. The dog caught up to the man and began tearing at his leg. At this sight the man who was yelling said, “This is what happens when you don’t give me my money” as his ‘associates’ were laughing hysterically at the violence.
Rather than share with you more stories of violence I have witnessed or heard about, thus furthering your fear for my safety, I’ll choose to discuss what this feeling has taught me or got me thinking about here. (And, by the way, I have never felt unsafe. Though there is violence around me it is directly a cause of the actions and bad choices of the participants. You should not fear for me, for I am safe). This feeling is one that gets my heart beating, my blood boiling, and my mind wandering. I think about what the father said to the son: “This is why we are on the way to school…so you can become smart and use your head instead of your hands to solve problems. Only people who aren’t smart enough use violence as an answer.” How do I get my students to see this? How do I stop my students from joining gangs and instead open up books and become community leaders? How do I invest them?
Seeing this violence makes me hurt so much for the state of our nation; for the state of our world. How is it that people come to find survival through violence? It’s one thing to read about it in the newspapers or see it in movies, but when you see it and it’s raw, it’s altogether different. This feeling is not one that is unique, I’m sure, because I know you would feel it to. This feeling hits me right in the face as to what my job has the potential do. If I can invest my students, show them how to solve conflict and teach them to succeed and rise above then maybe I can keep another young child from having to fear for his or her safety while waiting for the morning 4 train.

for the wild,

Andrew

It's Their Culture

2008-09-17T21:25:00.000-04:00

It’s their culture…the three words that have gotten me thinking lately…the three words that have made me feel both resistant and naive. These three words are the basis of what I need to share with you.
Although not all my students are Dominican, these three words are ones that refer most to the DR (Dominican Republic), and I will therefore be describing mostly stories from interactions with my Dominican students and my readings from celebrated (and incredible) Dominican author Junot Diaz. (I know I have told many of you that 100% of the students at my school are Dominican, but I was incorrect…it’s about 95%).
When you walk into my school – Academy For Language and Technology – it’s more likely that difficult-to-understand Spanish will be the first language you hear spoken – Spanish that takes the speed of Puerto Rican Spanish and mixes it with the cutting off of consonants that Cubans are famous for. This is Dominican Spanish, and I have grown to love it. (I find that if you put me near any Latin American culture for more than a couple weeks it’s not gonna be hard for me to find love for it).
More than the language, though, I have come to realize what makes a Dominican a Dominican (in a lot of ways) – social roles. Now, again, my opinions or theories have come from my brief interactions with my students, readings of Junot Diaz, and conversations with both American and Dominican teachers. Let’s start with the mujeres – that is the females. The role of Dominican woman seems to be a familiar one, but with a little bit of spice. A Dominican woman is expected (at least in the DR) to be in the house, cooking and taking care of the kids. This absolutely does not mean she is quiet and submissive though (that spice part). Rather she tells you how it is – especially to her kids. I know many parents in America tell their kids “You don’t know how good you have it.” Or begin sentences like, “When I was a kid…” (you fill in the rest). But, man, when these women say “When I was a kid” they make their children feel twice as angry and twice as crappy. They’ll even throw in a few “fea’s” (“ugly’s”) and “no te quiero’s” (“I don’t love you’s.”) This knowledge comes from a few places. One was when, today, the Dominican school counselor gave an amazing speech to my students in one of my classes on why graduating from high school is so important. She, in incredible Dominican Spanish, explained that she knew the place my students were in: New to the country, taking part in the great Dominican Diaspora (massive movement of peoples to a new place), with the same mami and the same papi who never seem to care. “They tell you things like “No te quiero” but they care. They love you.” She animatingly mimicked her mother, “I came to this country to give you all the opportunities in the world, hija! I came from the campo!“ (Hija meaning daughter, campo meaning Dominican ghetto). “She expected a lot from me…more than I was capable of.” The students silent, nodding their heads, wanting no one else to see that this too was, in fact, their home life. “And my Dad, machisimo as they come.” (We’ll get to the Domincan Father next.) “I would come home from school and show him how well I was doing in school…show him my ‘A’ papers and he shrugged it off like it was nothing.” The students paying attention more than ever. “I’ll tell you this: On my graduation day, my Dad, who never showed up to anything I have ever done in my life was there…sitting in the grandstand. As I received my diploma, I looked at him in the crowd as I saw tears running down his face.” The students tearing up at the imaginary sight of their fathers crying, so full of orgulloso (pride) and amor and physically showing it.
My knowledge of the Dominican mother comes also from Junot Diaz and his writings that have been called painstakingly realistic.
“ For a long time I let her say what she wanted about me, and what was worse, for a long time I believed her. I was a fea, I was a worthless, I was an idota. From ages two to thirteen I believed her and because I believed her I was the perfect hija. I was the one cooking, cleaning, doing the wash, buying groceries, writing letters to the bank to explain why a house payment was going to be late, translating. I had the best grades in my class. I never caused trouble, even when the morenas used to come after me with scissors because of my straight-straight hair. I stayed at home and made sure Oscar was fed and that everything ran right while she was at work. I raised him and I raised me. I was the one. You’re my hija, she said, that’s what you’re supposed to be doing. “ (Now I know that I said the ‘woman’ was supposed to stay at home, but the mother in this book is a single mother and therefore has to work, but I think you get the idea. You can also see where my Spanglish inspiration comes from).
The girl in who’s voice this passage is written in could very well be one of my students.
Now for the Dominican man; the manly man; the “machisimo.” Dominican men “never die virgins” it has been said. El hombre is expected above all else to be a ladies man…and to cheat...and to learn how to be a player from age 12 so future days of cheating won’t get a man caught. Even the “ugly” and “fat” ones find chicas to sleep with (Diaz writes). Last year one of the students at my school had a problem with a “maricon” student (the ‘f’ word that means gay) and said he would never work with a maricon again. The parents were called in to discuss matters and Papi, fresh from working on his car in his wife-beater and bling in sight, proceeds to tell the school administrators that his son shouldn’t have to be near a “mariposa” (butterfly, fairy). That’s that. “It’s their culture” we hear as an explanation of what we’re supposed to do when we encounter these positions.
My administration and colleagues are not the type of people who give up, who think that this mentality is ok. But what can we do? It’s their culture. Our students will be having sex, molding into their expected social roles so what am I supposed to do? It’s their culture…how can I change that? Who am I to even think it’s okay to try? It is, in fact, their culture and not mine.
I have decided this much: my class is not the DR. My class is not your home. While you are in my class you will learn to treat everyone with respect, work as a team, shake my hand and be courteous. You will not use derogatory language, and sexism and homophobia will warrant a discussion. In my class you will be expected to be leaders and to act like leaders.
If I have learned anything about change over the past month it’s this: Change comes from you; it comes from within. If you don’t change, try to do something different, streak, then you can’t expect change a thing in this world. So I will first change me, then bring change to my classroom, and only then can I expect any change from my students. Only then can I even come close to making an impact on their lives when they leave the classroom.
So, yes, this is their culture. But it’s also my culture. When you are in my classroom this is my culture, and your culture, and when cultures collide it’s a beautiful thing.

For the wild,
Andrew

Four

2008-09-13T19:59:00.003-04:00

Loved Ones –

The last thing I want “Stories From a Streaker” to turn into is a political blog, but I feel before I can move on I need to revisit my last post, one that prompted many of you to respond; one that I feel didn’t quite reflect my political beliefs; beliefs that I would consider to be in the incubation phase.
To be quick: I pledge allegiance to a Kingdom not of this nation (as Shane Claiborne and my wise friend Daniel put it). Now, I know that not all who come across this blog have the same Spiritual beliefs that I have…and for this to be relevant to those of you who differ (as I believe it is still relevant), then I would argue that many of you still have beliefs that go beyond the boundaries of a single nation; that you believe in people, in helping others; that this is in fact the foundation of who we are as humans. Many, if not all, of us believe that we are communal beings, born to be just as supportive as we are to be supported. So, again, I pledge allegiance to a Kingdom not of this nation. I pledge allegiance to a Kingdom that has no borders. It is because I pledge allegiance to this Kingdom that I feel the need to tear myself away from our political system (in some respects). Barack Obama will not bring the change we need. John McCain will not bring the change we need. I will bring the change we need. YOU will bring the change we need. Ghandi brought the change we need. Mother Theresa brought the change we need. I do still believe that my vote on November 4th can contribute to putting a person in the presidency who will do more good than harm, as I’m sure you do, and this is why I will vote and always stay informed. That’s all it should be though; a single vote. Not an argument, not a division, not something that tears apart from the Kingdom we are actually serving…the mission of Loving.
So as I hope this clarifies my last post, I also hope that it gets you to take a deep look at the Kingdom you serve as well, prompting you to ask the question: How can I best serve, or pledge allegiance to, my real, borderless Kingdom? How have I been doing?

A quote from Mother Theresa puts my beliefs into words perfectly: “Do not wait for leaders; do it alone, person to person.”

Let’s not wait. Let’s streak.

for the wild,
Andrew

In Action

2008-08-31T00:01:00.001-04:00

The one photo I was able to get from Institute.

Three

2008-08-30T23:53:00.000-04:00

Yet another deviation from my typical “Stories” format (as school doesn’t start until September 2nd), I sit here in frustration with politics and with our nation. Why do we allow ourselves to constantly be divided? How do I allow myself to think one candidate will create the change necessary to help the least of these to the point that I get into petty arguments that only tear down instead of build up? These “Stories” have challenged me in so many ways because I have vowed to stay away from endorsing one candidate or one political stance over another and instead bring you my real stories…stories that will build rather than tear down. It is because of this vow that I have viewed the election in a different light.

One of my favorite authors, Shane Claiborne, writes in his book Jesus For President that “The [distinctly Kingdom] question for us is not how do we vote on November 4th, but how do we live on November 3rd and November 5th...voting is something we do everyday with our lives.” It is because of this that I have stayed away from campaigning for the candidate that I intend to vote for in the streets of New York. My time as a Christian, as an American, as a human being with privilege would be better spent by actually serving the poor, looking out for the widows and the orphans than annoyingly try to get others to vote for a candidate that I feel will be able to provide help to those same people. Certain and direct action vs. uncertain and indirect action. Easy, right?

It is still a problem to me, however, that in traveling back to my less-than-affluent neighborhood of Spanish Harlem from Lower Manhattan I notice that nearly all of the white, well-dressed folks get off the subway by the 96th St. stop…20 blocks south of my place on 116th. After discussing such observations with ten, twenty, and even forty year residents of Manhattan I find that the stop used to be 59th St…past that nearly no whites would be seen. (I know I discuss race a lot, and sometimes it’s more of a socio-economic commentary, but I can’t help but see the implications my skin color has every single moment of every single day where I live and where I work…a process that minorities have been studied to go through at a much earlier age…a process that many of the privileged never go through). The reason for the northern migration of “safer” and “cleaner” communities is directly attributed to the gentrification that residents below the poverty line continue to face and fight in Upper Manhattan and Harlem today.

There are still racial and economic divisions in our country that are staggering. Just a couple weeks ago statistics on high school graduation rates in New York City were released and, as my eyes are going from dry to a bit watery, only 32% of black males graduated….only 1/3 of African American males graduated high school on time this year. This, mind you, is in the midst of one of the crowning achievements of the Bloomberg (Mayor) and Klein (Chancellor of Education) administration that 51% of all high school seniors graduate this year. How has the New York public school system not graduated more than 50% of its seniors in decades? I can’t respond to that, other than the fact that local, state, and national politics inevitably plays a role. No one, still, gets it right. Clinton failed the system just as much as Bush has…and it’s not their fault…it’s our fault…it’s the American peoples fault for not doing more, for sitting back, for simply running the race and NOT streaking in it. Don’t mistake my point for thinking you personally have the obligation to involve yourselves in education through direct action…but those issues that you hold so dear in your decision to vote for a candidate, or better yet to not vote for another candidate, need to not just be beliefs that you vote for on November 4th, but guiding values that lead you to action on November 3rd, November 5th, and every other day of the year. If you think a big government is the wrong way to go, then do your part and act. You probably say that you would rather give money to organizations and contribute your time than give it to the government in taxes…well do it then! And don’t simply donate your money, but donate your time, your skills and resources that you have been blessed with. A big government would pay workers to do some of these community service jobs…so if they don’t exist then your money isn’t the only thing that can provide the help. And if you think big government is the answer to the suffering in our nation, than don’t sit on your behind and expect government to do all the work. You might think that you are more selfless because you vote for what’s perceived as the “bleeding heart” party, but you are no selfless person if you don’t act or give.
I myself struggle with all of these things and don’t perceive to be above my own words. These are reflections of mine…and reflections are more of a personal thing than anything else. I need to continue to act if I want the world to be changed. This is the first time that I have truly understood Ghandi’s now (overused) words.

This is why we must streak.

for the wild,
andrew

Two

2008-08-30T23:52:00.000-04:00

This week I became a teacher…but I don’t really feel all that different. No epiphanies have come, no revelations…not even much pure excitement or intense frustrations…just more stress than I’ve ever experienced before, which has come mostly from putting together all of my lesson plans and creating posters for them with 18 hours of work each day and a “lucky” 5 hours of sleep each night. I know it’s all going to be worth it though, especially once I can stop treating my students like guinea pigs. I am, after all, their actual summer school teacher doing real instruction, unlike student teaching. This is definitely real and I still haven’t grasped it yet, which is pretty difficult when the direction of your life has shifted as dramatically as mine has in such a short period of time. Just three months ago I was waiting to hear from Teach For America, waiting to turn them down if I were accepted into the corps. I thought my immediate post-college life was supposed to be lived in Los Angeles for a few years, working with companies I was equally as passionate about entailing working with college (or prospective college) students. New York wasn’t even a thought on my mind since it wasn’t my top choice for placement. All I knew for sure was that I was going to return to Argentina for the month of May, leaving just 2 days after my graduation.

One moth in Argentina, a week in NYC, and three weeks at home later I found myself taking on the greatest challenge I have faced in my life up to this point, in a brand new place with brand new people learning brand new skills. While I’d love to go on and on about my feelings, my stresses, my difficulties, and my joys here I really want to write about a 30 second conversation that I was a part of today that has, so far, had the greatest
impact on me (during my interaction with my students).

Just 3 days into being a teacher and I have already faced my first collision with racial awareness. Part of the preparation for Institute was to read specified texts on all sorts of topics: lesson planning and delivery, elementary and secondary literacy, and many more. They were all great, necessary, and engaging texts that I have begun putting into practice and am using in my teaching. The one that hit me the most, however, was not about instruction or instruction planning at all. It was, rather, the diversity and culture text. At one point I was even called out pretty clearly within the book. When discussing the idea of racial identification and white privilege, it read that all future corps members, of all races, genders, and sexual orientations, need to be aware of these things in their classroom. It emphasized, however, that those who are white, male, affluent, straight, able-bodied, Christian, or able speak English need to pay special attention to what’s discussed in this text. What I found was that I did not resonate with much of thoughts on racial awareness that was discussed, which was the point of calling me, and corps members like me, out. I had never even been faced with the thought that being white gives you privilege in this nation and in this world. I also have never identified with a “white group” or “male group” or “affluent group” or any of these groups (well, except Christian but I don’t’ count that because it’s comfortable often times to be a Christian within these white, affluent communities…which is interesting when you read in the Bible that Christians are supposed to face ridicule…maybe something to think about.) The text explained that there is a process by which black, Latino, poor, and other minority children go through in identifying with one of those descriptions. This was demonstrated today when one of the girls in my class, Julia we’ll call her, made a comment to another student while we were reading:

“You sound white when you read.” she said to the other student we’ll call Joe.
“…Thanks.” responded Joe, seriously and defensively after a pause.
“No offense Mr. Simmerman,” said Julia as I was trying to figure out how to respond.

Both Julia and Joe are Hispanic.

While the readings in the text prepared me to understand why comments like these are made and where they come from, it didn’t offer a crash course on tackling these issues. As a brand new teacher, let’s just say my response was less than preferable (I favored ignoring the comment and quickly moved on rather than address the situation).

There are two primary questions about this conversation I would like to pose. The first is why did Joe respond in that way? Why did he say thanks, and what does that mean? This is almost as troubling to me as the comment made by Julia. The second question, one that’s more of a reflection that I will surely be thinking about throughout my time in the Bronx, is how can I combat the view that being educated and being able to read is viewed by many students as being “white” – something that is clearly not desirable by these adolescent students? The no offense part tells me that Julia doesn’t necessarily categorize me as the “white” person that has brought her to the conclusion that “white” is something bad, but still, when you have peer pressure saying that the moment you strive to be educated you are no longer a part of your race, then how can students find any desire to advance their learning in school?

As part of something I hope to do in every installment of “Stories from a Streaker,” I will leave you with (or put somewhere within the story) a quote that either specifically pertains to something within the installment or has simply came to mind while writing. The following quote is one I just ran across from President Lyndon B. Johnson:

“Until justice is blind to color, until education is unaware of race, until opportunity is unconcerned with the color of men's skins, emancipation will be a proclamation but not a fact.”

Four decades later, we have a long way to go, and this is why I streak.

for the wild,
andrew

One

2008-08-30T23:50:00.000-04:00

So I’m sitting on the bus on my way to school, getting ready to meet the children I will be teaching and responsible for passing on during summer school as part of the Institute and I decided that I would try and collect some thoughts to share. It’s long.

First, the 2008 NYC Corps is awesome! Everyone here is so amazing and nice and accomplished. I have two roommates from Princeton, my teaching partner went to Yale, and have met students who went to Columbia, Stanford, Brown, UPenn, and nearly every top school in the nation. Needless to say I feel a little inadequate in the intelligence arena, but that’s ok because we all got into TFA and we are all here and leadership and relentless pursuit is more key than where we got our education. Oh, and there are about 7 girls for every guy, so I’m pretty stoked about that ratio.

Also, as some of you may be surprised to hear, I’m one of the most conservative corps members here. There is something comforting about being around people with similar political ideologies, however as a Christian there are certain beliefs I have that alienate me. I would still consider myself morally conservative, so being in this environment has been a little tough, and surprising.

What’s been tougher, however, is hearing the stories from colleagues of very diverse and low-income backgrounds about their interactions with the affluent white community, especially those calling themselves Christian. One of the girls in my small group got thrown out of her house in high school as gentrification began taking over this city. They speak of Harlem being an up-and-coming city: more investment bankers are locating there; it’s becoming “cleaner” and “safer”; and new affordable sky-rises are being built. What happens to the “thriving culture” all the books use to describe this area of the city though? What happens to the people who have live there for years? The residents of Harlem, some of the poorest people in our nation, are now being placed on the streets, or forced to live in the dangerous projects. It’s no wonder these people turn to drugs, have a distorted view of white people, and decide to solicit themselves for sex. I am reminded of my favorite quote by (my favorite) artist Banksy:

“The human race is an unfair and stupid competition. A lot of the runners don’t even get decent sneakers or clean drinking water. Some people are born with a massive head start, every possible help along the way and still the referees seem to be on their side. It’s not surprising some people have given up competing altogether and gone to sit in the grandstand, eat junk food and shout abuse. What we need in this race is a lot more streakers."

Teach For America corps members are streakers.

Last year at Pepperdine I was able to have an incredible small group discussion with one of my favorite authors Shane Claiborne. When asked about his political beliefs and stances on controversial issues within the “Church,” he said that he refrains from telling people what to think, or even what he thinks. Rather, he explained to us how he simply tells stories that convey meaning. He said this is what Jesus did; what Mother Theresa, who he studied with, did. He said that no one can argue with stories. (Now of course in politics stories are used out of context all the time; but they usually aren’t stories that come from real experiences the candidates have with real communities…they were simply stories from a five minute conversation with or the reading of a letter of a “real person” in America). I bring this up because this is how I am going to choose to frame my emails, hopefully. I won’t tell you that I think you should vote for candidate X because he has a better education plan; I won’t tell you I think it’s important for everyone to fight for educational equity or seek justice. I will, rather, write to you stories of my 9th and 10th grade students reading on a 5th grade level; I will share my interactions with students who fall asleep in class, unable to concentrate because they didn’t eat last night or have a bed to sleep on. I hope that my experiences will speak to you in whatever way they should. I hope that you won’t allow my experiences to be something to look at and say you are proud of me because I am fighting for equality. I hope they instead that they spark a reaction for you to look for ways to create your own stories as well; to step out of your comfort zones and embody a different “white” or “affluent” or “Christian” person that the poor are used to being affected by. I know many of you have created these stories and experiences…but continue to find more, to do more. I hope that reading my emails won’t be easy because I want to challenge you as I am challenging myself; I can’t be alone in my efforts or it won’t be for much. This isn’t going to be easy for me, I can already tell. But I am doing it. It’s only the beginning for me and there will be times that I want to quit, but with your support I know that it won’t be an option for me.

I apologize for this long email but it has been an accumulation of thoughts over the past week as I haven’t had enough time to sit down and finish all my thoughts in one sitting. I love you all and your support means the world to me.

for the wild,
andrew