I grew up and went to public school in Hanover, NH. I was often the only brown kid in the class and was aware of it from a very young age. New Hampshire is not a racially diverse state and Hanover is certainly no exception.

            I believe my school district and my teachers did a fine job of opening up to ideas of multiculturalism, however their application of these ideas were sometimes uncomfortable for me as a minority student. Throughout my primary and secondary education, I was always asked to chime in on all issues multicultural, whether I intended to participate or not. Every February, I remember being the fist person asked what my thoughts on “black history month”.

I suppose I may be cheating a bit, since a did a project last year looking at the discharge rates for the inflow and outflow pipes on Rhoads pond, but I felt keen on focusing my exploration of campus on one specific aspect: water. While reading through the write-up on some of the geology of Bryn Mawr, I found myself intrigued by the sections on some of the hydrology of the campus. The creation of Rhoads pond and the diversion off campus into Mill Creek—through an underground pipe nonetheless—seems singular and odd. It was only instituted relatively recently, to make up for paved surfaces. My goal for my outside exploration was to trace some water. If I was a water molecule, where would I go (or be directed) on campus?

Taking another stroll through Morris Woods, I led a group of three friends who wanted to join. I recall saying somewhat jokingly to the others, “Let the earth guide you.” This is what I said, but of course, what I did was follow what I made out to be the path on which we were least likely to fall due to snow and ice. Even when we had walked for a bit, it was apparent that we were still fairly close to the edge of the woods. Somehow, even though we were amongst friends, there was a sort of serene silence that fell upon us as we took in the beauty, the stillness, and the seeming endlessness. Although the trees were bare and dry looking, and the only animal we encountered was a chirping bird way off in the distance, I would never doubt these would are full of life and full of stories.

I've wandered around Ryan Pinetum before today, but not attentively. For the past year and a half, when I would find time to visit the Pinetum, I would walk around the field, staying in the semi-designated walking paths, or sit on a bench (one of the many) and look around the field from beneath a tree. On this walk, I weaved among the conifers' green branches now weighed down with snow. Spruces and pines have been a backdrop to many of my experiences in the outdoors. They remind me of mountains, of tangled undergrowth and cold winters, of home. Being close to the trees, I would rub a few needles in between my fingers and press them to my nose to look for that familiar scent.

I figured exploring the geology of the campus was kind of cheating for me, so I chose to read about and then explore some of the trees on campus. First of all, reading through parts of the Bryn Mawr tree guide was mind boggling. I knew we had many lovely trees here on campus, but I had no idea there was so much variety! I felt a strange mix of excitement and sadness when I realized this. Excitement because I love trees and I was so excited that there was so much to explore and that there was no way I could really inspect and appreciate every single tree on campus in my walk because that would take forever - meaning that even after this walk there are still so many trees to explore and touch and love!

Before reading “Morris Woods: Living History,” I thought of the woods as the same as other woods—serene, mysterious, and natural. After having read the article, I returned to the woods thinking about the history of the trees and the plants found there. It was odd to think about everything around the trees growing and moving and dying, and the trees remaining still. This time, however, I didn’t walk around the woods as I had the previous times. I sat in one place and observed the snowfall. It was suddenly quite extraordinary to recognize that some of the trees standing in the woods had been through so many seasons.

This is connected to our discussion of meritocracy and grit's hidden structural character: http://www.economist.com/news/briefing/21640316-children-rich-and-powerful-are-increasingly-well-suited-earning-wealth-and-power

"We are thus able to decry the circumstances of the poor while assuring ourselves that we had nothing to do with their plight. We can even take special delight in lambasting the source of their suffering - a source that is safely external to us....Thus we fail to confront our complicity in their long-term suffering. By being outraged, we appear compassionate. This permits us to continue to ignore the true roots of their condition, roots that branch into our worlds and are nourished on our political and religious beliefs" (Dyson, pg 243).

There were two quotes that stood out to me in the readings and while not directly related represent opposite parts of a spectrum relating to how teachers interact with and view thier studnets. The first quote is from Noguera's introduction in City Kids, City Schools where he says "teachers who take time to know thier studnets are compelled to engage in an ongoing process of learning and inquiry, because the children they serve are not static or "knowable" in an anthropological sense.

I found Erwin Chemerinsky’s article to be quite thought-provoking, and it raised one main question for me. He very clearly explains how the various levels of courts have repeatedly contributed to the segregation of American schools, however he does not expand on why segregated schools are so flawed. This was not the focus of his article so I am not criticizing him too strongly for not including this, but I think it is worth a thought. Is there really no such thing as “separate but equal”? What if a school was specifically targeted at students who are Black and Latin@, and its curriculum and school policies reflected that focus? Couldn’t this school be better than a school directed at white students and essentially ignores its non-white students?