November 5, 2014 - 14:19
As I was reading Hill’s chapters on Hip-Hip Lit (specifically “Real Recognize Real”) and the article from Pinkert et al. I was struck by the empowerment and opportunity that students in both classrooms experienced. Both curriculums gave the students space to explore and define their own identities.
The learners in the HHBE class were comfortable expressing themselves in a manner that was less accepted in other environments and many of them described an affinity with the focus of the class that drove their participation in discussions. The constant thread of “realness,” who could judge “real” from “fake,” and who/what was able to be “real” led to a lot of identity performance among the students, as well as the teacher, in Hill’s class. The concept of “realness” as well as well as the perception of Hip-Hip Lit as a “black class” both limited and enhanced student experiences in the classroom. Hill pushed his class to back up their assertions about what was “real” and what was not, and many of his students (with a variety of opinions) were actively engaged in discussions as a result. At the same time, being judged as not “real” was often dismissive and exclusionary and I saw the students’ perceptions of Lisa and the “Heads” refusal to engage with some of the material as pitfalls of the “realness” standard. Just as the opinions about “realness” incited a lot of conversations around race, poverty, violence, the students’ understanding of Hip-Hop Lit as a “black class” also opened some doors (while closing others). I was struck by the students who said they felt as if they could truly be themselves in Hill’s class and that such behavior in other, “white” classes was not acceptable. This afforded a lot of agency and access to the students who felt that Hip-Hop Lit was for them. I thought it was especially interesting that they felt the need to “stand up for” black people in their other classes, but they didn’t want to force white students in the HHBE class to feel they had to do the same. Despite this sentiment, it seemed as though the white students didn’t stand up for their race not because they felt they didn’t have to, but because they felt they couldn’t. The label of Hip-Hop Lit as a “black class” made them feel as though their experiences with non-black culture were not as relevant, and that they didn’t really fit in (with the exception of the white students that were deemed “real”). All in all, I really appreciated Hill’s article and I thought both the curriculum and the dynamics within the class were fascinating. I think this particular description of Hip-Hop Lit is a testament to the positive outcomes of classroom innovation, but also a reminder of how damaging stereotypes and labels can be.
Obviously the subject matter for the EJP class was quite different from Hip-Hop Lit, but the section of the article written by the students struck me because they took such a powerful sentiment from Klüger’s writing. The class clearly prompted a lot of comparative and philosophical discussions about modern carceral settings and Nazi concentration camps, but the fact that the students found an affinity with that particular author in refusing to define themselves as “victims” was so cool. That was, quite frankly, not the outcome I was expecting when I started reading the article. This class not only empowered them to challenge outside perceptions of their identities, but it brought a new meaning to their role in society. Furthermore, the fact that some of the students co-wrote the article with Pinkert is another testament to the skills and empowerment they took away from the EJP class. It was refreshing and inspiring to hear about the students’ perceptions of their own situation and the role they saw themselves having in changing it, as opposed to scholars’ evaluations of carceral settings and the people within them. Much like the creativity and open discussion of social tensions in Hill’s class, the response of the students in the EJP class gave me a lot of hope.