This Side Of The Wall » teaching

No, you will NOT walk on me

Britni Danielle — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 03:34:52 +0000

First: A little self-promotion.

I’m excited about my very first article, “Carry On Tradition” on CLUTCH MAGAZINE. The piece was inspired by my rereading of Joan Morgan’s When Chickenheads Come Home to Roost and how I missed reading books by young black women that spoke to our complexities. Please read it & comment on their site. Show them that intelligent and well-thought-out articles (that don’t deal with gossip or fashion) are worth being published on mainstream sites. Thanks!

her side-eye is EPIC! her expression says: "we don't believe you, you need more people!"

Today, I went back to work. We didn’t have students but instead had a day full of meetings and trainings. The day was very low key (read: boring), fairly informational, and was going along smoothly until it became PAINFULLY clear, that God was testing/teaching me.

One of my coworkers is annoying. He is one of those dudes who has to fill up any room with the sound of his own voice. He’s arrogant. I never talked to him too much last year because it was clear that he only liked to hear himself speak. So I stayed down on my end of the hallway, while he pontificated up and down his.

But today, he and I were seated at adjourning tables and I could no longer avoid his brand of crazy.

Being the person that I am, I am always in the company of men, mixing it up, talking about sports, being sarcastic. The usual. Mr. Arrogant was wearing a “The Mack” t-shirt, so my other coworker and I were cracking ourselves up with different quotes from the movie. Mr. Arrogant sits down while I’m talking to my other coworker and he started to get a bit greasy.

I ask Mr. Arrogant if he was a fan of the movie or if he was just wearing the shirt. He responds, “What you know about that?”

I roll my eyes (playfully), and let him know I’ve been entertaining myself with quotes all day. Cool, that went well. He goes on to say he got the shirt in Harlem last year and that he just had to get it when he saw it. Ok. Fine.

I made the mistake to engage him further, be nice, ask about his trip and where he stayed. He mentioned staying in Lower Manhattan, “the uppity part,” he says. I add that that real uppity part of NYC is the Upper East Side, but he argues back (like I didn’t live there for years). Then he says…

“Year two? Year two people talking now?”

I had to cut my eyes at him. Had to stop myself from turning into a stereotypical, neck-poppin, around-the-way-girl (I was at work, after all). I was close, though. I let his little snide remark, about it only being my second year at the school, slide and kept talking with my other coworker.

A few minutes later he starts talking loudly about year two people being too comfortable. He keeps on about securing the hallway and covering my class. He says something to the effect that he’s had to put my kids in check (umm, not when I’ve been there) and basically insinuates that he knows more than me. I even let THAT go (I’m not into workplace drama).

He then gets on the phone with a woman, and starts yappin about women saying no when they mean yes. He tells her, “you sure? You women know you say things you don’t mean. You be saying no when you mean yes.”

Tired mack aside, that sounded like rape to me. Any one who negates your boundaries doesn’t care about you and only wants to push their own agenda.

Mr. Arrogant turns to look at me and smiles. I guess he was hoping for some sort of cosign (was he serious?). Now, I could have let it go. I could have kept working on my laptop, but instead I said, “that sounds like rape to me.”

He gets silent. Goes back to rappin with the girl on the phone. And soon mumbles something again about year two people getting too comfortable.

I ask him, “I am supposed to feel uncomfortable?”

He smiles it off, and keeps talking loud and saying nothing.

My issue was not only what he said, but also the fact that this man is a teacher. Is he passing this line of thinking onto his male students? How he acted today was how I’ve seen him act toward students in the past. He fancies himself too cool, too smart, all knowing. My students have told me that he clowns them. He has also said lots of inappropriate things to other teachers (i.e. he teaches a “real” class & some of us don’t). Yet no one seems to want to rock the boat and call him on it.

I was too through.

Although I was very, very annoyed by him, I learned something about myself this past year. I am becoming bolder about confronting ignorance and SPEAKING up against it.

Normally I would have just let him keep spewing his shit without calling him on it because I don’t like drama. But why should I sit there feeling uncomfortable while he revels in his big ego? Why should I signal to him with my silence that’s it’s ok to disrespect me as a professional AND as a woman?

Nah, I’m not having it.

Speaking up is not always easy. It damn sure isn’t always comfortable, but I didn’t walk away from him fuming and wishing I should have said something. Furthermore, I’m pretty sure he will think twice before popping his shit my way again because he has been warned. I am not 14 and will not be bullied with his attitude and arrogance.

This year, and especially these past few months have continually shown me the importance of claiming my own voice. I’m not sure that had this been a year ago, pre-therapy, pre-30 –year-old reflection, I would have said anything. I’m glad I’m growing and becoming GROWN.

You will not walk on me.

And it feels GOOD.

Fam,

when was the last time you spoke up, even if it made you uncofortable?

did i deal with Mr. Arrogant properly? or should i have just let it slide?

how do you deal with folks who only want to hear their own voice?

Brown Boy Genius

Britni Danielle — Tue, 11 May 2010 03:26:52 +0000

Click here to view the embedded video.

These past few weeks have been quite interesting & dramatic.

In a short span of time one student at my school passed away due to a heart condition, another confirmed he had a baby and hadn’t told his mother yet, and my son’s teacher told me she wanted to send home extra packets because their “kindergarten program is very advanced”. Each of these things had me thinking about the genius of brown boys and how it gets lost.

The student who passed away reminded me that life is so fragile. One day he was at school, hanging with his friends, going to class not knowing that that day would be his last. As he walked home he collapsed and later died, leaving a huge hole in his parents, and many of my students’, hearts. His genius never had the chance to come to fruition. We will never know what he might have become if only he had more years. Too many of our boys meet this fate, snuffed out before they’ve really just begun.

My student with the baby scares me. He’s 14, failing most of his classes, very charismatic and capable of doing so much more. Yet he spends his energy on girls, football, and being a self-proclaimed hoe. He’s told me that he hates his dad because he’s been in prison most of his life, and it’s clear my student needs a lot of guidance. I am sad and scared for him. He could be doing so much better if only he had someone cheering him on. If only he didn’t so easily get sucked into the culture of failure that a lot of our young boys find themselves in, he could realize his genius.

Everyday I go into my classroom and look at my students, amazed. They are so full of energy, experiences (some too grown), and promise yet so many just don’t make it. I can almost see which of my students will drop out, will end up in jail, or will end up in a dead-end job if something drastic doesn’t happen. A few years back there was a lot of fervor about black males. TV shows aired, articles were written and there was a lot of buzz about saving black boys. But somehow that has all died down and the media has moved on to single black women.

But what about brown boys & their genius?

Our culture promotes everything BUT education. As a matter of fact, education is sort of a joke that only nerds (or white people) take seriously. I distinctly remember something saying I talked/acted white because I was smart (many of my students still ask, why I talk white. Smh). Something is definitely wrong. When education and being smart is associated with whiteness or asian-ness or anything BUT being Black (or whatever YOU are), there is something definitely wrong. Our boys are losing their genius in the process. Where are our Martins, our Malcolms, our Alain Leroy Lockes?

These days boys are conditioned to accept failure in school. Conditioned that all you really need is a D and a nice haircut or shoes or athletic ability. It makes me SICK when my students are happy to get Cs when they could easily be pulling A’s or B’s if only they actually TRIED.

I am worried that a generation of brown boys will never recognize their genius and MAKE IT. Not barely make it on low-wage jobs after they’ve spent time in prison, but go to college, get a career and be successful.

I am worried that my son’s genius will be discourage by his peers (or even teachers) who have painfully low expectations.

I am terrified, really, and I don’t know how to change it. I ask a lot of my students, I ride their ass, tell them they CAN do it, but that only goes so far. We need a cultural shift. We need to celebrate the creativity, the intelligence, the genius of our boys (and girls) so that they know that anything less than their best is just unacceptable.

How can we get kids to recognize their genius?

What ideas do you have to counteract the culture of failure?

Let’s Talk About Sex. Now!

Britni Danielle — Wed, 05 May 2010 02:49:59 +0000

Growing up, I pictured what my life would be like when I got older: I’d be married, well traveled, degreed, and have a banging career, a sexy husband, and two adorable kids. Basically, I’d be the 21^st century Clare Huxtable. I carried these dreams in my head throughout my childhood, into high school, and tucked them into my back pocket during college. Even though I was a girl from South Central Los Angeles, I never doubted that I’d reach my dreams.

And then it happened.

In January of 2005 I found myself downsized from my job, a semester away from completing my MFA, and pregnant.

Being a single mom was never an option for me. Even though I was in a committed relationship, my mother always raised me to wait until I was married to have sex, let alone make some babies. So when the pink lines materialized on the EPT test, and confirmed what I feared, I was shook.

It took me two months to decide what I was even going to do. I thought about abortion, not because I really believed in it, but because I was scared to face up to being a “failure.” You see, I was always the good girl. The girl who kept her skirt down and her grades up. I was the first woman in my family to graduate from college, and was the first, period, to be working towards a graduate degree. I could see the flicker in my parents’ eyes when they told people their daughter was all the way in New York City getting her Masters degree. Could hear their pride oozing through the phone when they asked about school and the city. So telling my mother her little lady messed up was like admitting I was a fraud.

Recalling those feelings, the pain of letting my parents, especially my mother, down is still palpable. But in the end, I womaned up and told my family that I was pregnant. I was 24 and still cared as much about what my parents thought as when I was 12.

Those feelings came rushing back today as one of my students confessed he’s scared to talk to his mom. You see, my student is 14, yes FOURTEEN, and a new father.

I happened to find out about his baby from another teacher and since then have tried to encourage him to step up and do the right thing. Today he told me he hadn’t told his mother about his son, and I emphatically tried to convince him that he MUST tell her about the baby. I tried to remind him that the LAST thing he wants or needs is to have the girl show up at his house, baby in tow, and have a Maury Povich moment on his front lawn.

But he’s scared.

Thinking about his situation and the fact that another student (also 14) came to me this week because she was scared she might be pregnant after she’d had unprotected sex, made me think that a lot of parents just aren’t having THE TALK anymore. These days, when sex is everywhere—music videos, commercials, MYSpace—parents can’t afford to just leave it to chance.

Whenever something happens with my students, it makes me reflect on how I’m raising my son. I want to shield him from many of the situations they are going through and I don’t want him to make the same mistakes. Talking about sex…to my own mother…STILL makes me feel some kind of way, but I cannot let that stop me from talking to him. I refuse to let him walk around ill equipped to handle his emotions, hormones, and make a baby when he’s still one himself.

How did you learn about sex?

When did you have “the talk” with your parents?

How did you have “THE TALK” with your kid(s)?

Wordless Wednesday: Get Schooled

Britni Danielle — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 06:35:24 +0000

Budget cuts abound in LA, but it looks like I’ve been spared another layoff notice. I am, however, presently burried under a MOUNTAIN of paperwork.

i hate grading papers. with a passion.

happy hump day!

what do you absolutely hate (or despise) but you just gotta do it anyway?

What’s Really Hood? Urban Schools & Reform

Britni Danielle — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 04:06:37 +0000

no money, mo' problems.

“In this kind of knowledge economy giving up on your education and dropping out of school means not only giving up on your future, but it’s also giving up on your family’s future and giving up on your country’s future.”

There has been a lot of buzz lately about reforming public schools. Earlier this week, President Obama outlined his plan for turning around America’s schools and closing the “dropout factories.” The President proposes giving $900 million to school districts to turn around or close it’s lowest performing schools.

According to the plan, districts and schools would compete for “School Turnaround Grants” by submitting comprehensive proposals to improve student achievement (read: raise test scores). This plan would require the schools to “agree to a series of criteria, including: firing the principal and at least half the staff; reopening as a charter school; close the school all together and transfer students to better schools in the district.”

Some applaud these extreme measures, but I can’t help but think that this sort of plan will disproportionally affect urban schools, many of which are on the list of lowest performing.

It’s easy for those looking at schools from the outside to say, “just fire the staff and start over,” but it’s precisely that sort of staff turnover that affects schools. Urban schools—hood schools—are always hard to staff. They are overrun with the newest teachers who need the most support and guidance (I know, I was one), and they are set up to fail.

“The American Civil Liberties Union and other groups filed a lawsuit Wednesday on behalf of students at three of the city’s worst-performing middle schools. The suit claims those students were denied their legal rights to an education and aims to prevent the Los Angeles Unified School District from laying off more teachers.”

Currently, the ACLU is suing my district, LAUSD, on the grounds that teacher layoffs were so devastating to urban schools that they infringed on the students’ civil rights.

Last year thousands of teachers were laid off, gutting many hood schools. Many schools were unable to find teachers because they are not in desirable areas and have a reputation of being a “tough” school. A lot of these schools have been functioning with day-to-day subs, just to have a teacher in the room. This is a recipe for failure.

Which leads me back to Obama’s plan. In order to compete for improvement money, low performing schools would have to jettison its staff, again, causing more upheaval, and in my opinion, more failure.

Teaching ain’t easy, and neither is school reform.

I am skeptical of any sort of school reform plan that does nothing to hold ALL stakeholders (parents, students, staff) accountable, not just teachers. Without support from the home, the teacher’s job is THAT much harder. If you can’t get your kid to behave at home or open a book (or don’t value books in your home), I’m going to have to work doubly hard to get him in line.

Letting the weight fall squarely on the shoulders of teachers and school staff isn’t fair. The schools that tend to perform better are either A) in an area with a higher socio-economic level or B) have greater parental support.

Schools are not islands; we can’t do it alone.

I am all for pruning the weeds. Some teachers need to go, but not all. I am for reform that, instead of cleansing a school of its staff (that knows the kids & surrounding community) that may be working hard, implements tough standards for both the students and the staff and has everyone work together for the betterment of the students.

I am all for school reform, but I am for reform that makes sense.

But as my momma would say, that’s too much like right.

Side note: Today my district approved more teacher layoffs. I’m expecting my RIF notice (again) in a few weeks.

What do you think of President Obama’s plan?

Do you think people are SERIOUS about reform?

Dear Monday: Don’t Hurt Me

Britni Danielle — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 04:45:50 +0000

don't act like you can't relate.

Dear Monday,

you didn’t have to

come so quickly, you know. i

would’ve waited for you.

(c) me, in anticipation of another monday

Lately, I’ve been dreading Monday like I owed it money. In a way, I do. It’s the day I have to return to the uneasiness of my classroom and work hard (so, so hard) for my money.

If you’ve been following me on twitter, you’ve noticed I’ve been looking for an escape hatch from my job. I do not love teaching. It’s something I do well, like deal with uncomfortable shit with ease, but it’s not fun. It’s not that I don’t like the kids. I love a lot of them (a few, I’d strangle though), but I’m tired of dealing with the Culture of Failure that has gripped so many of them. It’s hard to care so much when they don’t (or their own parents do not) give a damn.

I’m over it.

It’s only November, and I’m over it. I have felt this way on many occasions and I keep asking myself when am I going to do something about it. When am I going to be strong enough, brave enough to change it? As I approach 30, I realize that I don’t have time to waste. I don’t want to become just another worker bee that dreads Monday, or a teacher that becomes so disgruntled she hates the kids (I’ve met a few like this). I want to LOVE waking up to do whatever it is I have chosen to do.

I was flipping through the November issue of O magazine this morning and read the “who are you meant to be section.” As usual, I fall in the “creative” category and need constant opportunities where I can think and share creatively with others. Perhaps that is what is so taxing about teaching middle school. I spend ALL day being the bad guy, the disciplinarian, and only a fraction of the time sharing and teaching with the kids.

At the end of the day I can continue to complain about my job, like so many others, or I can leap out on faith and reach for happiness. My momma didn’t raise no fool, so don’t expect me to quit tomorrow (especially in THIS economy), but just know that I’ve already started planning my escape. Instead of just talking a good game, I’m actually taking action to love what I do and feel at ease come Monday morning.

A majority of Americans work in jobs they HATE (87%?!), do you?

If so, are you content to stay or are you looking for an escape hatch?

If you love what you do, share the secret to finding work you love (we need the help!)

Still Invisible

Britni Danielle — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 23:15:23 +0000

Today, my heart was broken by a tweet:

“thing that hurts me more than the honor student that got murdered in chicago are the mofos who stood by, filmed and yelled ‘get a closeup!’” from (@Questlove of The Roots)

America’s blood lust has spilled over onto our children. Every time a fight breaks out at my school, students appear to be caught in trance that demands they see blood. Hurt feelings lead to harsh words. Harsh words lead to misguided fists. Misguided fists lead to tragedy. Most times, kids walk away from fights a little hurt, but not permanently so. But sometimes they don’t.

Today I caught the story of sixteen-year-old Derrion Albert on CNN. The news broadcast showed the utterly heartbreaking video of Albert being beaten to death by several suspected gang members.

After watching, in horror, for a minute, I had to turn away. I could not bear to watch a young man lose his life in such a heinous way.

My heart broke open
thinking about this child
his family
his momma
My son

My son
Will he have to deal with this at 16?

To my dismay, but not surprise, the story isn’t garnering much attention. Twitter is keeping it alive; many people are sharing information, articles, and calling for more light to be shown on this subject.

But where is the mainstream media?

This issue of teen violence isn’t regional. This story could easily be taking place in Los Angeles, in Harlem, in Detroit, in Atlanta, in Hartford. Why isn’t there major attention being shown to this story? Why aren’t there serious actions being taken to help our kids deal with the anger they harbor? Is it because these people are not wealthy? Are not white?

Is it because this is what they expect from us?

I expect more. I’m not an idealist. I’m not waiting for the next Martin or Malcolm or Obama to “lead” us out of the violence. It’s ingrained in popular culture. In our music. In our shows, our movies. We celebrate toughness. We celebrate one’s ability to “kick ass and take names,” so it is no surprise our kids function off of these same values. But this cannot go on. We cannot keep losing our kids, our future, to this type of senseless violence.

What steps can we take in our own communities to end this type of violence?

What will you do to help?

Starting Over

Britni Danielle — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 01:37:01 +0000

Badu asks, "Can You Feel It?" Yes We Can!

Like many kids, I returned to work this week a little sad summer was over, but hopeful that my new crop of students would be eager to learn. So far, two days into the new school year and all is well in the classroom.

The first days are always the easiest. The students are trying to feel you out. You’re trying to put on your best “I’m-mean-but-fair” face (which I don’t do well), and both of you guys are sort of honeymooning, putting your best foot forward & hoping it works out.

This year I’m at a new school. At this school, I’m an unknown, I don’t have a “oh, Ms.______ is so nice!” reputation, so I decided it was time to switch my game up a bit. One of the easiest ways to shift your attitude/vibe is to change your appearance.

Last Saturday morning, after watching endless YouTube hair videos, I worked up the courage and chopped all my hair off. Myself. I took it from just below my shoulders (when straightened) to about 3 inches long. I’ve been wanting to do it for sometime, but I just decided to stop waiting and just do it. With the impending school year and a ticket to see Mos Def & E. Badu later that evening, I just said, “what the hell.”

my girl Mdot drops that knowledge.

So far the response has been great. My fro has never really felt better (I can’t keep my hands off it!), and it’s much easier to get up and go in the morning. I can’t say my students treat me better because of my hair, but I can say it has added another layer of swagger to my everyday vibe. I feel confident, sexy, and in charge of my shit.

Yes people, change is definitely good.

Click here to view the embedded video.

(video I shot of the Mos & Badu show. Enjoy)

When was the last time you decided to “start over”?

Why do you think black women’s hair is so political? (think it’s not, read this)

Where Did Summer Go?

Britni Danielle — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 18:53:00 +0000

(pic taken on my FIRST ride on a Ferris Wheel…last month!)

I am sitting here trying to figure out where summer went. Yes, I know. It’s only the beginning of August, but I know the end is near. I can feel it. The end of the summer, the end of lazy days with the munchkin, the end of just hopping in the car on a Tuesday afternoon to go…anywhere. It’s almost a memory.

At the end of the month the munchkin will be starting preschool and I’ll be moving on to another, a little tougher, middle school teaching assignment. Honestly, I’m not at all ready. I AM excited about preschool. Excited because I know he’ll LOVE it! But the going back to work part? Ehhhh, let’s just say I’m hoping to hit the lotto before Labor Day!

Teaching is noble. It’s necessary. Great teachers have a profound effect on kids’ lives. But it’s so damn labor intensive. It’s tiring, it’s frustrating at times, and I’m not at all ready to go back on the grind. Does this mean I need to figure out another profession? I dunno. I do love working with kids and having a positive effect on their future, but teaching takes such a toll on me that I feel like I’m shortchanging the things I love: my child, my writing, myself.

Hopefully it will get better as the year(s) go on. Maybe I’m just nervous about switching schools & the prospect of going into a tougher situation than I was in before. Or maybe, I’m just a little sad that the summer is ending and I’ll have to wait another 9 months to feel completely free.

~~
What are your plans for the last few weeks of summer?
What haven’t you done that you still want to squeeze in?

the do-over

Britni Danielle — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 00:38:00 +0000

I can finally breathe.

The school year has taken its last, long winding turn into the summer sun. The kids are gone. The grades are in. The room is packed up (well, not really), and I can finally relax.

This year seemed to last FOREVER. Longer even than my previous years teaching. Now that I have time to look back and reflect on how it went, I’m longing for a “do-over.”

My students were more than a handful this year, they were like a duffel bag of firecrackers, each full of their own opinion, swagger, and hormonally driven angst. I had to fight some of them every step of the way just so they’d see that what we did in that room was valuable. Some battles I won, some, I was beaten down, but at the end of the day I hope each of my students walked away with at least ONE lesson learned.

The last month or so of school, we read the novel, Monster, by Walter Dean Myers. In the novel, a sixteen-year-old boy was on trial for murder. I knew my students would be interested in the novel—strictly on the subject matter alone—but I didn’t know they’d LOVE it. To date, three books are “missing,” stolen by someone itching to take this masterpiece home with them. A stolen book, in a class full of self-proclaimed non-readers, is the highest compliment. So I was pleased not only that many of them told me, “that story is dope Miss,” but also because they could see themselves between the pages. For once they saw themselves and a world that looked like theirs reflected in a book. And that made my heart smile. To see them so deeply engrossed in the book, they yelled when we had to stop, lifted my spirits. But it also made me wonder how differently the year might have gone had I included more books like these in my class? Would they have listened more? Would they have tried harder? Would they have not gotten into that fight? These are the questions I struggle with as I run this year back through my mind over and over again.

If I could do this year over again (and lords knows, I don’t wanna!) I’d pick better books. I’d focus on building a family, before we building perfect sentences, and I’d make sure to celebrate their every achievements—no matter how small. If I had it to do over again, I’d be their biggest cheerleader and critic, pulling no punches and not just pacifying them because I’m tired, or not into it, or feeling lazy to fight. If I had to do over again, I’d work a little smarter, not harder, saving my energy for what really counts—them.

This year is officially over, so there’s no going back. What I can do, however, is think about the issues, my battles and victories and do better next school year. Even though today is over, everyday offers you an opportunity to do it over.

What do you wish you could do over?
How will you improve on what you did today to make tomorrow truly GREAT?