So far there’s been a wearisome battology of terms:
transparency, check-ins, shoutouts, and applause for vulnerability. The repetitive
praise and fluff-language makes me question TFA’s sincerity. I get that we’re
being taught strategies to manipulate (yes, I chose that word intentionally)
our students into believing that our classroom goals are their classroom goals.
But don’t you think that then trying to use those strategies on us might not
work as well? Or perhaps everyone isn’t as non-compliant as myself.
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| Just the thought of this is repugnant to me. All my typos are authentic. |
TFA typos are driving me CRAAAAZY! I’m so sick of reading
that my basic tenants where good and will help me in my vision from my
classroom. You people are teachers. Teachers! Your students are going to
copy what you model. So model well. Be professional enough to proofread.
Please. Or else I’m going to invest in a giant sharpie and start doing it for
you.
The management style we’re taught relies heavily upon Lee
Cantor’s assertive discipline. I love his focus on fixing small problems before
they become large problems, and his assertion that heavy teaching of procedures
and rules at the start of the year will pay off for the rest of the year. One
guy in my advisor group, a black diversity studies major, pointed out
that he joined TFA to fight white supremacy and be actively anti-racist, and
now he’s being taught by white teachers about how to subdue black students.
It’s not entirely white teachers and our students this summer will be mostly
Chicano, but I think he does have a point. He doesn’t want to order young black
men around in the classroom, because they’re already dealing with a lot of undeserved
authority pressure outside. Later, when a white corps member spoke about his
discomfort with TFA’s diversity mission statement because it asserted the extra
impact a person who shares the identity of their students can have and made him
feel less powerful to help his students, this guy gave a wonderful response about
the value of coalition-building. Still, I do agree that sharing identity is
powerful in role-modeling.
The tornado siren went off at noon on Wednesday. We could
see exactly who was from where: all us Midwesterners checked our watches while
everyone else freaked out.
On Thursday we tackled diversity discussions. I sat at a
table with my two collab partners (both black women) and two of my Charlotte
friends (black woman and black man). A fifth woman sat at the table, as well.
Chris, who is really outgoing and assertive, looked around at us and asked,
“should we move to include more white people? I mean, three of us are black, and
(gesturing to one of my collab partners) one of us is multiracial, and
Hannah’s…”
“Jewish,” I supplied. Cheri, the Charlotte woman, looked
surprised. Chris turned to the last woman at the table. “And you’re…” She
shrugged. “Whatever,” repeated Chris. We all laughed. Turned out she was of
Portuguese descent. Then we all told Chris he should stop making assumptions.
We had plenty of diversity at our table.
Chris decided to take charge and open with religion: whether
we had ever been oppressed because of our religions. My advisor was sitting with us, and immediately focused everyone on me: do I feel
oppressed because I can’t do stuff with everyone on the weekend? No, I told her.
My religion empowers me. It’s when people make jokes about greed that I feel
uncomfortable. Amazingly (to me), some of them had never heard the word “kike”
before. Chris said he’d never met a Jew before. So I reached across the table
to shake his hand.
One of my collab buddies, asked how I felt in TFA as
the only observant Jew in the Tulsa institute. I told the group that the thing
that really makes me jealous was watching all the people of color head out
together after a diversity session to debrief with people that get them, and
having nobody with which to debrief about the most salient part of my identity. Chris suggested that I join the Charlotte African American table
at the dining hall. I've sat at it before, but usually a white friend tags along and the table integrates. At dinner I happened to grab the last seat, completing the minority table setting. I felt as Othered as ever when they
exclaimed at my cottage cheese and green pepper and made me explain kashrut
again. Still, my induction roomie was there making me laugh (she was all hyped
up on caffeine and extolling the value of reading her bible every morning), and
a woman I’ve had nothing but interesting conversations with previously, and Cheri from my diversity discussion, so I felt part of it. There’s something
empowering about being the only white kid at the black kids’ table.
The rest of that diversity session skittered through gender
and then focused mainly on our reactions when our kids use the “n” word or “b”
word. Some people thought the words were reclaimed, or appropriated as part of
a culture, while others find them forever offensive. I think I’m going to
withhold judgment and take the professional approach—don’t use those words in a
professional setting. Anyhow, there was plenty of diversity in our little
group. Afterwards, the diversity studies major and I traded recommendations on good diversity
literature. The man’s a powerhouse of resources, and it’s fun to speak with
someone who takes an intellectual approach as well as a practical one.
My collab group spent hours crafting our
classroom management plan (all the logistical classroom stuff) and first day
plan last night. We see our classroom for the first time today, and then will
arrive Monday only an hour before our students. This weekend’s going to involve
a lot of chart paper. Our theme is international, and each kid will get a
“passport to success” in which we’ll reward their academic achievements with
stickers (“stamps”) and good behavior with tickets. I’m hoping none of the
kids, who are mostly Latino, will be discomfited if they lack documentation in
real life. Every letter we send home MUST be written in both English and
Spanish. After TFA made that announcement, I fully expected them to attempt to
teach us Spanish in twenty minutes, but even their chutzpah doesn’t extend that
far. Behavior management in a day, lesson planning in three hours, but a
language lies beyond their capabilities.
I have a weekend (at Tulsa chabad for shabbat) to sleep and plan, and
then… our students!
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| The Charlotte '13 Corps |
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