Tower of Babel Lesson Plan

Without warning, my P.E.O.P.L.E writing students started comparing terms they use when communicating with their peers in social settings. The initiator of the conversation commented on the diversity of the campus and the difficulty he perceived would exist if he had to room with someone from a different country. I listened without feeling that I was intruding in their space since they were openly discussing this while delaying the completion of ther writing assignment. People in Madison get "treated" while those in Milwaukee are more likely to get "dissed" or "ribbed" for failing to conform or doing something that's unacceptable. Parties are either "off the hook" or "crackin' " depending on where you live. They laughed at each others terminology and asked for explanations.

"Why do you say someone gets ribbed? What sense does that make?"

"What sense does it make to say someone got treated if they're not sick or if you didn't buy them a candy bar?"

I did not stop the conversation because, for me, it was a spontaneous teaching moment that reminded me of some of the class discussions we'd had regarding empowering students and allowing them to use their own language and have their "Safe Houses." The conversation was, at first, dominated by African Americans. I kept hoping that some of the other students would "represent" by joining in the conversation, but that didn't happen until one thoughtful, or more inquisitive, student asked, "What are you? I mean, what do Indians say? Do you guys say "treated" or do you say "ribbed"?

"I'm from Milwaukee," the addresse replied. "We say ribbed." Chuckle, chuckle from the class.

My precise but abstract idea for a related lesson is to have my students do more cultural sharing, especially about their idioms and traditions. Instead of the usual icebreaking activities, students would be required to find out about their classmates' ethnic origins, backgrounds, and traditions. Since my urban classroom has a truly diverse population, I envision having my students design questions that would elicit culturally enlightening information from their peers. They would then spend time talking to each other, or better yet, participate in whole class interviews. That way, some of the stereotypes and guessing that often takes place due to lack of awareness would be eliminated. One of the objectives would be to eliminate ethnic classifications based on complexion alone. Another objective would be to gain a more indepth awareness of some of the practices and traditions of other cultures. For example, we know about Christmas and Hanukah and Cinco de Mayo. What other holidays and ceremonies are celebrated by other ethnic groups? I would even have each person teach another person or the class a few words and phrases from their native language. We know French, Spanish, German, and Latin, but what about Chinese or Vietnamese, the sometimes forgotten languages?

The follow up writing assignment would be a class profile. To assimilate academic writing, I would have them attach some kind of chart or graph depicting their findings. They would also analyze their findings in their papers. For example, they could take a look at how things are expressed differently, lenght of sentences that say basically the same thing in different cultures, use of colorful or more explicit language, etc.This extended assignment might eliminate some of the Babel like communication and cultural misunderstandings.

A Letter to Grace

Dear Grace,



I have one "Angel" of a daughter by birth and many others, including Amy, that I have adopted along the way. You see, if I adopt you (which I have; papers are in the mail), I can continue to offer you unsolicited advice about teaching (and other subjects). I shall preface my first installment of advice with stories from my past even though the stories are not really mine to claim since they have already been shaped by my culture and recorded in somebody elses' history. But this is my story. I share it with you because of your passion for (and sometimes your seemingly uncertainty of) teaching, especially in an urban classroom.

When I arrived in Milwaukee, a southern girl hundreds of miles away from home, away from all that I had ever known, no family, no friends, no "Safe House," I, too, was afraid. But not of teaching, not of classroom settings. I was confident about my subject and gave no thought to discipline. What did I know about urban schools and ghettos? I was a teacher! That was the only label I knew, the only one I needed. It is still the only one those in our profession actually need. When we start adding unnecessary labels and modifiers, we sometimes start adding doubts and often adversely affecting our own self esteem, confidence, actions, interactions, and reactions.

You may argue that it was easier for me because I was an African American teaching African American students. But what about when the tables turned and I was an African American teacher standing in front of an all white class? I stood before them, with my dialect, my southern drawl, and my pronunciations that still today defy the "standards" imposed by academia. What classes existed to instruct me on how to instruct them, how to delve into their backgrounds, how to intrude their safe spaces? Years later (Summer, 2008), some of our authors from class would imply that no such instructions were necessary.

But let me tell you another story. When my daughter was three, the two of us were returning from Chicago and I took a wrong turn onto Dundee Road. All roads do not lead immediately to Milwaukee. Angela studied me for awhile, then asked, "Mommy, are we lost?" I smiled as I admitted, "Yes, we are." "Okay," she said nonchalantly and returned to reading her book upside down. I can't help but think had I panicked or cried (loud enough for her to hear me) or cursed (no, "cussed"), she might have reacted differently. I saw myself in the realistic light as someone who was prone to get lost, but more importantly, as someone who would always find the way back. Let me idealize my story by suggesting that that is what my daughter saw in me. My point is, students, like my daughter, most often see you as you see yourself.

That is why, Grace, I want you to be ever mindful of the labels that you attach to yourself. If you see yourself as a "white teacher" in the urban classroom, your students will view you as that "white" teacher. If you deem yourself an "Oppressor," others will see you as an oppressor. Think of yourself not as "the Oppressor," nor "The Great White Hope," nor the "white teacher." Just "teacher," Grace, teacher of all students, one who enlightens, engages, and enjoys students. Let your passion for teaching and your love for students continue to guide you.



Tender moments from

Tuffteacher!

Bartholomae's Conversation with Elbow

Our writing is not our own according to Bartholomae. More and more we are disillusioned then in discovering that history, culture, and other sources have already shaped the stories we write. I contend, however, that the stories are still ours, shared perhaps, ours nonetheless. So when Elbow alludes to the practice of asking students to express themselves without reproducing the thoughts of others, he gives the impression that all ideas are a form of plagiarism, in a manner of speaking. So maybe the stories our students write are not new to us, to historians, but they are new experiences for the writer. I am reminded of how often I use to point out that my students were using trite expressions. The expressions might not have been trite in their experiences, not having heard or used them as often as I have (given the age difference).
Classroom arrangement sometimes has no effect on the perceived distribution of power. Even in a circle, the teacher is most often still recognized as being in control. On rare occasions, the reverse can be true. The teacher can be front and center and still not be the one with the power. Is it really possible to disguise the "unequal distribution of power"? Actually, power and empowering in the classroom is shared in a sense. I only have the power to teach my students to the extent that they allow. Does not their behavior (mostly good) empower me to be in charge?
I am not sure to what extent classroom arrangement affects writing. Circles? Small groups? Cubicles? Today, I vote for any arrangement that ironically allows students to plug their ears against the noise created by my presence.

A & P Parking Lot

I'm not sure where lines are being drawn in the vision of the A & P Parking Lot classroom. The idea is one that I relish. The "new math" concept is now old, and the composition concept is even older. I agree with the concept, but am certain that the world of academia outside the parking lot still requires parking inside the lines. It seems that "an architecture of bold communication rather than one of subtle expression" would only be accepted in creative writing classes.
"Our universal notions of good writing become a totalizing program of design control." This implies that students only become good writers when they follow the traditions that we set forth, when they lose their exuberance, when they become us. That might explain why some excursions in urban writing goes over well and others might not. If the instructor, for example, is more in tune with urbanism, more accepting of its styles, then for that moment, the writer might be deemed a "good writer."

Betrayal in the Safe House?

Problems arise when the subordinate group becomes insubordinate. When that group, for example, refuses to accept the inequities afforded by the dominant group, the group often becomes subjects to be studied and analyzed. The resistance is in part due to the constant scrutiny, to the constant reminders that it (education) has to be this way. Like those seeking the protection of the "Safe House," which by its very nature is not safe, I have no choice but to sadly concede to the truth of those reminders. I sometimes wonder if that sadness of "having no choice but to comply" is, in part, the underlying cause of some of the discipline problems encountered in the classroom. As an educator, I am one of the oppressors who say ever so elegantly, so guardedly, that "what you know, what you enjoy, who you are," is just not good enough. Sorry. The betrayal lies in the fact that all too often what I am asking, no, telling, some of my students to give up is so much more than what I am asking their peers to give up. Since the standard of what is right was not established by the minorities, it is, in a sense, asking them to be "white" (even if it is for their own good). Hence "Blacks {and other minorities} must retire their culture so that they may be {accepted} by the majority."
I see the P.E.O.P.L.E. Program as an attempt to create somewhat of a "Safe House" for minorities. In this context, however, I see it more as an effort to acclimate students to what could easily be an overwhelming campus experience. Like the African American students in Canagarajah's observation, many of them have resorted to some minor forms of a multivocal literacy. Some have questioned every writing assignment I have presented. I have concluded that that is more a result of their not being into the program rather than anything else. It is interesting to note, however, how they have resorted to their "vernacular language" via texting, small groups, and native languages. My question is, to what extent does this Safe House (P.E.O.P.L.E.) meet the needs of the minority students when school is in its full scale session? Ideally, students in the Program will have the safety of knowing each other, being able to, if necessary, seek out members of the "Safe House," but also join other student groups.
One final issue: I sometimes wonder if in our well meaning efforts to relate to the students in the PEOPLE Program, if we do not go overboard in our selection of materials, trying too hard to let them know that "I know you have not seen enough of your self in the texts that you read in school, so let's read this story about your culture." Due to the sensitivity of some students, even such inclusions must be done in moderation.

Writer Versus Reader

Who controls the text once it has been written? Does it still belong to the writer or does it belong to the reader? Elbow asks for respect for the writer and faith in the writer's authorial meanings, despite the fact that writers often fail to be clear. My students and I have often debated this issue, especially when it comes to interpreting poetry and some prose. Inherent in our interpretations are the conventions of literature, a history of sort that adds its own meaning despite what the author "meant to say." How many times have I said to my students that "You cannot just attach any meaning to what the poet has written"? It has to be based on something. Just as often, I have admitted to them that only the author can be one hundred percent sure of interpretation.

Did Elbow mean that the writer can (does) determine meaning for the reader? Is this the same as the speaker determining meaning for the listener? When I inadvertently call someone "Sweetheart" because I cannot remember names, am I still in control of what meaning the listener attaches to the term? What about the use of the hip hop version of the "N" word? Who controls meaning there? The writer? The artist? The audience?

To what extent does the teacher as reader assume control of the text of the student as writer? When I offer suggestions, am I not taking control of the text? Am I not assuming that the student meant to say what I would have said, how I would have said it?