Reflections on Kozol

This semester in one of my Doctoral classes I had to read Jonathan Kozol's "Shame of the Nation." I had previously read this book in Graduate school as an exhausted teacher surviving the trenches of working in an urban high school. Kozol's experience in the book definitely resonated with my experience teaching in an inner city DC public high school. Although Kozol, a white male whose taught in the decade before I was born, witnessed the socio economic and cultural segregation of inner city students that I also witnessed almost thirty years later. Nothing changed for these communities, but the time and date.

In his first chapter "Dishonoring the Dead," Kozol develops the major irony in the naming of urban public schools after well known or successful black civil rights leaders, artists and pioneers. What would they think of schools that carry their namesake well into the new millennium perpetuating racial segregation? For the sake of this venue I will call it racial segregation, because that is the practice of origin. Although calling this contemporary type of segregation 'racial' is over simplifying the complexities and intersections of class, culture and nationality and other identifying categories that contribute to social stratification. Also in my worldview race is an illegitimate ideology that perpetuates oppressive doctrines and forces the identity of 'otherness.' But I shall digress from my feminist, post structural ideals.

The school in which I taught was named after a black engineer and architect. It was built in the 1970's as a symbol of progress for the south east DC community, which housed high tech facilities and had academic programs to rival schools in affluent white neighborhoods. The school was a seven story tower which housed the classrooms, a core with escalators and elevators, and all were situated on top of two larger levels consisting of the gymnasium, auditorium, medical facilities and other common areas. There was an olympic sized pool, electric keyboards in the music department and a greenhouse on the roof.

By the time I taught there, none of these facilities were in working order. The building was basically condemned as there were always flooding, mold and insufficient heat and cooling. There were gang signs graffitied everywhere, and there were major social issues in the neighborhood. Frequently I would hear gunshots firing into the surrounding neighborhoods and have to be escorted t my car by the school security guards or police stationed at the school.

The neighborhood was still 99 percent African American and mostly impoverished as the school was a title one, mostly free or reduced lunch. It was the least diverse experience I've ever had. The community was so homogenous that families knew each other and gangs were sustained for generations. Kids thought that I was black with 'good hair' because all they were exposed to were the main staff of mostly African Americans and the one or two random white teachers from Teach for America and the Teaching Fellows (my program). They had no concept of people with my background, what we looked like and where to locate the region on the map. To many kids the Caribbean could have existed on Mars for all they knew.

As an outsider to the culture I felt as though I was actually embraced by students and staff alike. Unlike Kozol whose background as a white male with a New England accent boldly stood out, I as a female minority, albeit novel to the culture, blended in. Also unlike other teachers who entered the profession as I did, but with the racial privilege of Kozol, there were definite instances of resistance and prejudice that many of these white teachers had never experienced before.

Five years later the community is exactly the same, however the old tower was torn down. My third year at the school we transferred to a facility a mile away where we would await another high tech building that would be a STEM (science, technology, engineering and math) school with green facilities. Next September the school is slated to open, yet neighborhood students will need to apply to get into this school in their own ward. The idea is to foster a desegregated population by allowing students from all over the city to apply to attend this amazing new school.

Wether desegagation will actually occur at this new facility will be remarkable. But there is something to be said about not giving preference to neighborhood students. Will the name of the school be kept or will a new name be adopted is yet to be seen.

But let us hope that whomever it is named after, the school will not dishonor its namesake or fall prey to the degradation of its predecessor.

A Step Back in Time

This weekend the nation celebrated President's Day, probably the way most of us spend those lovely three day weekends; at the cinema, shopping or just enjoying a day off.

I however was stuck in class most of the weekend at GWU's satellite campus out in Ashburn, Va. But yesterday took the opportunity to visit Mount Vernon to celebrate George Washington's 279th birthday. Admission was free, and while the rest of my weekend was spent at my namesakes' school, I decided to take advantage of a historic national site and its weekend festivities.

The weather was chilly and rainy, I had to take a shuttle from where I parked to get to the estate and the grounds were crowded with visitors, and lots of kids... and by the time I left, my boots were covered in mud.

But despite all this, I had an excellent time. The drive to Mount Vernon took almost 45-50 minutes from where I live in the DC Metro region. We took a tour of the house, the grounds and various structures on the estate. Although we missed the wreath laying ceremony, I was absolutely moved by the tomb wherein laid our first President. I was surprised to learn that his body was moved from its original location overlooking the Potomac to a larger structure that was erected near to his orchard.

After perusing most of the structures on the property, and being absolutely fascinated by the farm animals grazing across the knolls, we attended the surprise Birthday Party held in honor of GW, hosted by who else but his accommodating wife Martha. We were treated to music, jokes singing and various tidbits of a history lesson.

The best part however was after the celebration visitors could line up to meet the President, actor playing him, and "make an image" with GW, who btw is over six feet tall, towering over my mere five feet and three inches.

When on the Mount Vernon Estate, visitors are constantly reminded that the year is 'perpetually 1789' the year GW died. So being from western Post Colonial descent, unlike other Americans in attendance, it made me think what my life actually be like if I existed during GW's lifetime and what implications of this time lapse would mean for women, people of color and eduction as a whole.

Although I'm not black, I would definitely be a slave or be regulated to some form of indentured servitude as my own ancestors were when they migrated to the Caribbean. I would probably be illiterate, as it was illegal to teach people of color and servants to read. Life as a woman would be particularly tough because, well honestly when hasn't womanhood been tough? But a woman slave was basically a voiceless piece of chattel, a breeder that could produce more servants for her master.

But most worrisome is that women had no choice in the matter. History bombards us with romanticized ideas about the white masters having relations with their slave mistresses, often loving her and taking care measures to free their offspring. While that may have happened, she was still in bondage, with no agency to refuse her master's requirements of her. To me that is he most fearful aspect of projecting my life back to the time GW lived.

Gladly now I am able to voice my concerns, have a choice in any given situation and be self sufficient as a woman of color in 2011. Most of all I can pursue a Doctorate at the George Washington University and not face segregation or discrimination in the same way that those before me struggled to overcome.

Happy President's Day!

Craving Catharsis

After an arduous journey of self fulfillment, recent inspiration and a dire need for cathartic release I have decided to write publicly about topics that are academically, professionally and socially relevant to my daily musings and experiences.

Admittedly so I have unsuccessfully committed to several blogs that I developed specifically to document my study abroad experience in Seoul, SK, my experiences as an urban educator in a DC high school and various graduate school projects.

I promise this one will be different as I will devote commentary on various topics including the journey that I am on at present. So what is this journey I speak of?

Currently I am pursuing a Doctorate in Education Administration and Policy Studies at The George Washington University. This in itself is a major accomplishment as I entered the Cohort at 25 years of age and I plan to be Dr Mathura before I'm 30. Education is a major platform for me personally and professionally, so my decision to undertake this degree was literally the next logical step for me.

Furthermore its is a year after I left the chaotic underworld of the District of Columbia Public School System, where I taught high school English for 4 years. I have to convey that I have significant post traumatic stress from that profession, yet I still seem to be battling the trials and tribulations of an urban educator. Education equity will always be an important aspect of my career because the foundation of which was established, for me at least, upon the crumbling pillars of the inner city, high risk, low performing students. Those of which may never be able to achieve the experiences of mobility and opportunity, nor will they have the awareness that they deserve such things.

At present I teach at the University of the District of Columbia where I encounter much of the same issues that drove me away from DCPS, yet here I find the freedom and autonomy that an educator must possess in order to have creative license in her classroom. How long will I be here and what is my next step?

... You will just have to stay tuned.