Silence

Free Film Screening on Peace, Education, and Justice: 6 p.m. on Friday, September 21, 2012, at the Friends Center in Philly.

I was honestly fascinated by the Kim & Markus piece, Speech and Silence: An Analysis of the Cultural Practice of Talking. It intrigued me from the very beginning with the description of Asian American students in the classroom and how teachers have found these students "do not participate in class as much as [they] want them too". This point really hit home for me. While I am in no way Asian or East Asian, I did grow up in a predominantly Asian community. I went to a school that was 90% Asian and had all Asian friends. For this reason, Asian culture is a huge part of who I am, and my early exposure to cultures other than my own was very influential in shaping the person I am now. Part of me would really like to use this influence to explain why I find it so difficult and uncomfortable to speak up in class. And maybe it plays a part. I know that my mind is a busy place -- overflowing with thoughts most of the time. Just because I don't speak them doesn't mean they aren't there. It would make sense that I am a product of the culturally-infused academic environment that I grew up in. But of course, not all my time was spent in school. My house was never a particularly loud or expressive place. How much of who I am in the classroom comes from home and how much comes from primary school? 

As I was reading the piece by Greg Dimitriadis, I couldn’t stop thinking about whether or not he was a white author.  The name Dimitriadis sounded Greek and when I google image searched him, he appears to be white.  We discussed this in Jody’s class a little, but I’m interested in continuing to explore ideas of representation across race and ethnicity.  I must admit that when I read for class, I generally assume the writer is a white, and also probably a man.  Although part of me knows this is a dangerous assumption, part of me also knows it is a safe or practical one because many of the writers ARE white men.  As I was reading Dimitriadis’ piece, I began to become more and more uncomfortable with the idea that a white man was representing African American children, but don’t quite know how to articulate why this makes me uncomfortable.  As we read in the Ellsworth piece for our Voice class, issues of understand and correct representation are an ever present problem.  But I guess I question if that problem is further exacerbated when a white author is writing about African American youth.  I’m sure Dimitriadis has the “credentials” and education to do such work, but how far does that go? I became especially uncomfortable when he wrote about the students interest in the violent or more action scenes and when he said they associated gangs with the Black Panther.  I don’t doubt that this is true, but was he missing something important or not giving enough explanation?

I have read the Delpit reading in multiple settings and for different reasons. Once for my ED 250 class where my classmates and I explored how dominant forms of literacy marginalize groups of students because their way of speaking, writing and native languages are left out of public education. During the summer, again, I was told to read this same Delpit article as I prepared to embody the life of a full-time 7th grade writing teacher. This time, I took away from the article that explicitness in the classroom was key. As I taught, I was always conscious of what I said, how I said it, and the different forms I could say it so that my instructions were clear and catered to different learning styles.

As I go through my sophomore year here at Bryn Mawr, I've been finding myself constantly making comparisons about my experiences in high school and Bryn Mawr. My high school was a great place and I know I recieved an exceptional education there, but right now I can't help but feel like I've been wronged in terms of how I had to learn things, as if I didn't have any other options to choose from. I've been slowly coming to the realization about why I began to lose interest in classes where the subject I once used to love seemed to be working against me. English used to be my favorite and best subject (perhaps it was my favorite because I was good at it) in elementary and middle school. I loved reading and writing because I was able to use my imagination and I could be creative. But when I took AP Lang and AP Lit in high school, I was miserable. Both of my teachers were wonderful people but I would always get this sinking feeling in my stomach when I stepped into their classrooms because of how difficult of a subject English was becoming to me. I felt rejected, rejected because the subject that I had enjoyed the most was now helping me realize how weak of a student I actually was. A particular activity that helped me feel this way was the Socratic Seminar. Half of the students would sit in a circle and have a discussion about the text and ask each other open-ended questions while their partners (who were sitting outside of the circle) tallied the number of the times their partners were speaking. It was my worst nightmare.

Reading the Kim and Markus article is a lot for me to process.  It affirms and gives insight into a lot of frustrations and opinions I have about myself.  Perhaps the best way to go about this is to speak in small anecdotes and details about myself:

-I often don't think in words.  More in images, colors, movements, movie scenes.  I often have a hard time writing papers because it involves putting words to thoughts.  The writing process is typically a page or less a day.

-I would never deny my Socratic education.  I speak in class.  A lot.  Sometimes, it's because I don't know how to translate thought to words.

-I really dislike how often I use the noun "I".  I worry about being selfishly individualistic.  Growing up, my father and mother would make soft remarks about how I shouldn't try to stand out so much.  "It's better to be just as high as the other trees in the forest." It took me the past couple of years to really understand why this concerned them so much.

-The main purpose I have in class dialogues is to try and get a sense of what everyone is trying to say and articulate it in a way that everyone can gain from it.

-Can't listen to conversations or music for the life of me when I'm trying to write or read.

Since coming to Bryn Mawr, I've become very aware of the ways in which I've been deprived of having my history taught in classrooms. I smiled as I read "Popular Culture, Pedagogy and Black Youth" because I too remember feeling like I learned the same things every year during black history month: Martin Luther King and "I Have a Dream". That is not to say that I don't think his contribution was unimportant, but it highlights the lack of effort that goes into teaching anything other than euro-centric curriculum to public school students. I still think it's funny that I had a World History class that only focused on Europe. That is without even mentioning that I learned NOTHING, about Latino culture throughout my time in school. I had no teachers that looked or spoke like me to look up or to go to when I felt invisible, silenced.

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It seems sadly appropriate (or maybe ironic?) that the class called "silence" is the one I have most trouble speaking up in. This problem isn't new for me -- I struggled in ESem and it looks like I'll be struggling for a while again. I know I'll hit my stride eventually. What helped me last time, though, was using Serendip as a form to (unselfishly!) share unspoken thoughts with the class. 

Today, during our discussion of poetry and whether or not a person's interpretation can be "wrong" or "right", I was reminded of my high school's entrance exam. There was a small section of analogy work (triangle is to shape as purple is to _____) and some mathematical ratio problems. But the bulk of the test was poetry analysis. We were given one poem and 50 minutes to annotate and write and analytical essay. As someone who is ambivalent towards poetry on the best days, needless to say I was worried. But I did my best, writing so quickly that most of my thoughts were illegible. I never thought much of that poem after taking the test. Until this class, that is. I wonder, now, what it was they saw in my analysis. Were they looking for something specific? Did they just like my style? Maybe all they wanted was a well-organized essay with all the parts in the same place. I'll never know of course. I have no real conclusions about my experience here, but would welcome yours.

And off to a completely separate thought! 

Hi All,

A friend of mine shared the following video with me, and I think it's an interesting way to frame one of the issues facing the school system here in Philly, and it offers a potential solution.

<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ld2IxaCXSyA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>