Walled Women

One thing that really stuck out for me in the Silva article was the mention of the scale of intelligence on which prisoners were placed to determine whether their IQs merited effort on the part of the prison system to educate them. These labels, ranging from "above average" to "imbecile", are not only offensive in the ability-minded conscience of today, but also in the idea that there is no hope for nearly half of all prisoners to ever learn something useful. These standardized tests, as we have discussed in class, are in no way a feasible method for extracting useful data about intelligence, and, so far as I know, there is no evidence that they would have been executed under fair conditions to prisoners. It seems that these scores and hurtful labels are an excuse for us to allow prisoners to fall between the cracks without education in incarceration facilities--if they were never bright enough to be educated anyway, we don't have to worry when our rudimentary attempts to educate them are unsuccessful, or don't land released prisoners a job (likely related to unwillingness to hire former prisoners no matter their level of "rehabilitation").

I've been thinking a lot about our last class--how we tried to grapple with educational policy, realizing how difficult it is, and how frustrating it can be.  We all seem to be emotionally invested into the cause.  As students at a liberal arts college, we undoubtedly value education and what it can provide.

What I want to respond to now is the last comments made before we moved on to the next class.  It expressed the frustration of "not having enough time" to execute all the goals we set out for ourselves when trying to be good teachers and educational policy makes.  I make mention of this point because I think "the time crunch" that all educators feel is one of underlying problems, and one that we all had a hard time trying to grapple with as well.  

Perhaps then, the problem isn't necessarily that we don't "have or possess" enough time to get everything we want done in the day, but that we think that must accomplish everything by a certain date, or else we're doomed to failure.  A kid who does not pass meet the requirements of a third grader by the end of his school year must repeat the year all over again.  If the teacher does not prepare her students by this date, then they will fail the state exam.  In other words, maybe we're a little too concerned about the deadline than the inquiry of the kids themselves.

The Silenced dialogue:

As the course proceeding, I always see the word silence in noun or adjective form of silent. This time, it’s a silenced. The dialogue is somehow forced to be silent.

The article starts to talk about “The Black Issue”. It’s very interesting to author got complete different feedbacks and response from different groups of participants in the conversations. The while, or the main stream educator, insisted on pos their opinions about Black education. On the other hand, the Black participants stop disagreeing and seem to agree with their logic. They are very passionate talking about being left out from the conversation. It reminds me of many occasions when I tried to argue with my peers about Chinese history questions. I remember amot each one of us was told to don’ try to start conversation about religions, politics or other sensitive topics. Honestly, you cannot win.

Representation for others seems to be an inescapable thing, both in language and in life. We are represented by others politically, academically and in media. When Beyoncé sings “Run the World (Girls)”, she sings “Work my 9 to 5/ better cut my check/ this goes out to all the women getting it in” in attempt to speak to working women; however she herself does not work a typical 9 to 5 job. Representation pervades our lives in a way that seems unavoidable. We as students are constantly being spoken for- many of the articles we have been reading about education speak for us and attempt to dissect and interpret the desires of students; our desires. Even if the point of the article is to say that students should not have to be constantly redefined into a representation; there is still a certain degree to which we are not only being spoken for but assumed as a unified category. “Students” itself feels simplified; there is so much diversity that is made invisible by this generalization. This seems to be one of the main problematic side effects of representation, in addition with misrepresentation and misinterpretation.  Even as I write this, I am aware of the implications of using “we” and “our” to refer to people on a general level, and that I myself am attempting to speak for others. My reference to Beyoncé is beginning to feel like a transgression in the sense that I assume a particular interpretation of her words and that I assume she does not work a 9 to 5 job. 

In the interest of fostering our love for poetry, (This one's for you, Anne!) I wanted to share some of the blackout poetry that I've done. Dan mentioned this in class but I thought I'd give an example. Trying to reduce fact into art is an infuriatingly lovely process, and I recommend everybody try it out! 

I realize that they are both on their side and hard to read so I'll type them out here: 

They were dismantled, 

reduced. 

Critical and 

Emotional. 

I close around me 

rather than just watching the moment bloom 

amidst 

the world. 

-- 

Perhaps, 

the idea 

was part of the air. 

An elegant lightness, 

derived from the burdens upon them. 

Predictably, 

she asked it 

to dance. 

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

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?

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.