Semester in review and students as change agents

Originally posted at www.21stcenturyscholar.org

The semester is ending. Students are submitting papers. Professors are grading papers. And, hopefully, all had a great four months. As I reflect, I am thankful for a challenging and rewarding semester. I am grateful to have a career that allows me—via research, teaching, and service—to interact with an array of people and, along the way, to become a better professor and person.

And yet, as we look back, it is impossible not to think about many troubling events that have occurred, from mass shootings to blatant racism. Across the world, people are experiencing repeated acts of symbolic and physical violence. Most believe the current state of affairs needs to change. However, judging from national dialogue, there seems to be little agreement about how to do so. More locally, reading my Facebook feed has become a schizophrenic act. One person frustratingly posts about a blustery demagogue; another frequently retweets memes about the right to bear arms. There seems to be a heightened amount of political and ideological strife. More than anything, there seems to be quite a bit of prostrate frustration.

Maybe I’m naive, but I still believe in our capacity to create a better world. Two weeks ago, my students reminded me why and, perhaps, how.

In class, we discussed an article by Jeannie Oakes and Martin Lipton about school reform as a social movement. An overwhelming amount of leadership lit talks (very rosily) about the importance of consensus building and collaboration—and we read some of the work earlier in the semester. Oakes and Lipton’s point is that, if we are serious about equity, we have to acknowledge that it's not in everyone's best interests. Positive change is conflict-based. It requires leaders to adopt a grassroots mentality to bring attention to and contest racist, sexist, classist, xenophobic, and a variety of other prejudiced actions and policies that are reaffirming inequities in our schools and neighborhoods. I was blown away by how respectful, thoughtful, and passionate students were when discussing the topic. There are so many negative examples of injustice occurring across the country and world right now. It would be an easy out for students to be cynical.

Most of the students in the class are aspiring school leaders. It was our last in-person class of the semester. We've talked before about the challenges of being a principal, balancing professional and personal responsibilities. A district mandate may not always be in the best interest of students. But, if you choose to advocate for students or teachers and believe in social justice, that may also put your job in jeopardy. That's not easy for a variety of reasons, especially considering family and financial obligations.

It was such a great moment as students acknowledged that they want to and have to be the ones to ensure equitable opportunities for all students. It was such a pleasure to be a part of their conversations during the semester, to see them challenge and learn from each other. And, it's reaffirming to know they're working in our schools and for our students.

Happy holidays and cheers to a new year.

(Re)viewing the Classics: Carol Stack’s All Our Kin

I originally published this post on February 01, 2011, at www.21stcenturyscholar.org. At the time, I was just beginning to study neighborhood ethnography--the methodology that I would later adopt for my dissertation.

Carol Stack, with her three-year-old son in tow, spent several years collecting data in The Flats, a poor, black neighborhood in an unidentified Midwestern city. Her purpose was to examine the strategies poor people adopt in order to survive. The researcher, now a faculty member at University of California, Berkeley, did not seek access through a church or school; wanting a more representative sample of families, she gained access to two families through a mutual acquaintance. From there, she networked.

All Our Kin challenges the stereotype of black families as dysfunctional and self-destructive. Stack presents a complex network of real and fictive kin working together with few resources to survive. Among these networks exist complex rules about topics such as gifting and child-rearing. Some may see these families as similar to the families presented in texts like the Moynihan Report or The Truly Disadvantaged, but Stack provides the reader with a more personal, nuanced portrait. A single-parent household does not automatically equal social disorganization.

The book is as relevant now as it was when published in 1970. The writing is clear and concise. Stack’s use of theory is unobtrusive but useful. More importantly, buzzing in the background of the text is a persistent feeling of uncertainty and precariousness. The individuals in All Our Kin want to succeed, but they can’t. Their material conditions are lacking and government policies and programs do not support upward mobility. Critiquing the welfare state, she says:

It is clear that mere reform of existing programs can never be expected to eliminate an impoverished class in America. The effect of such programs is that they maintain the existence of such a class. Welfare programs merely act as flexible mechanisms to alleviate the more obvious symptoms of poverty while inching forward just enough to purchase acquiescence and silence on the part of the members of this class and their liberal supporters. As we have seen, these programs are not merely passive victims of underfunding and conservative obstructionism. In fact they are active purveyors of the status quo, staunch defenders of the economic imperative that demands maintenance of a sizable but docile impoverished class. (p. 127-8)

As I said before, the book is as relevant now (if not more) than ever.