I reread my chapter on Freire just now, and I really wish that I could assign myself the Revisiting a Research Project now that I've read it and experienced the African American Literature panel today.
Half of my students in the African American Literature panel presented today. The Asst. Dean of Students, Angela Walker, was in the audience at the end, but she was there for the Q&A session. All of these presenters stood in front of the room for the Q&A session. Many of these students will be future teachers, and she asked them some interesting questions about how they would take the literature they read in this class into their future classrooms. She also asked them how did these works personally affect them. This Asst. Dean happens to be African American and worked at a Historical Black College before she came here.
I thought about Freire's quote on page 82--"In the final analysis, what is expected of those who teach by speaking or writing, by being a testimony, is that they be rigorously coherent so as not to lose themselves in the enormous distance between what they do and say"
Her question really asked them to respond to this quote in a personal way. Their responses were sincere and personal, and I could see the distance closing in right before the audience's eyes. The literature wasn't out there for them, but it was inside of them as they explored through these discussions what impact African American literature might have in their daily lives as teachers and/or as citizens of the world. Through their discussions, they explored how such literature made them better human beings.
She kept asking them questions, and they kept exploring through these thoughtful responses as a community of presenters. I thought of this idea of essaying to be, and I was fascinated to see what was unfolding through these series of exchanges.
Freire has truly helped me and, I would like to believe these students, to essay to be by opening this class to a larger university community. I wish that I had the opportunity to thank him.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Rejecting the Other
After reading Lynn Bloom's chapter, "Living to Tell the "Tale," I was struck by the words at the bottom of page 76.
'Break it off,' they hiss, their lukewarm Christianity at the boil when Martin, enroute to graduate study in Edinburgh, arrives as a prospective son-in-law. Treating him like vapor, my father speaks only to me throughout the entire visit."
How many time have I heard similar stories from students in interracial relationships or the rejection they've experienced as the "other" from in-laws or future in-laws.
I'm reading The Invisible Man right now in my African American Literature class, and I thought this line from the Prologue seemed to be resonate with what I'm reading in both classes.
"You ache with the need to convince yourself that you do exist in the real world, that you're apart of all the sound and anguish, and you strike out with your fists, you curse and you swear to make them recognize you. And, alas, it's seldom successful."
I ran into an African American former student from Corpus at the mall the other day. I remember he told me years ago in class that his Latina girlfriend's family rejected him. He always hugged me when he saw me, and he is one of the sweetest young men I know. Who could not like this young man who has high aspirations to return to a school he grew up in and be a role model. I met his girlfriend for the first time, and they are expecting a baby in June.
I read in on page 77 of "Living to Tell the Tale"
"'If you marry him'--"they proceed to prove their claim"-- 'we will have nothing to do with you, or your husband, or any children you may have'"
Married in 1958 and Martin and Lynn are still going strong--I hope my former student can also say this 50 years down the road, celebrate his biracial children and their dual cultures and live a visibly happy life in front of others so caught up in rejecting the construct of the negative "other" that tears families apart.
Dr. K.
'Break it off,' they hiss, their lukewarm Christianity at the boil when Martin, enroute to graduate study in Edinburgh, arrives as a prospective son-in-law. Treating him like vapor, my father speaks only to me throughout the entire visit."
How many time have I heard similar stories from students in interracial relationships or the rejection they've experienced as the "other" from in-laws or future in-laws.
I'm reading The Invisible Man right now in my African American Literature class, and I thought this line from the Prologue seemed to be resonate with what I'm reading in both classes.
"You ache with the need to convince yourself that you do exist in the real world, that you're apart of all the sound and anguish, and you strike out with your fists, you curse and you swear to make them recognize you. And, alas, it's seldom successful."
I ran into an African American former student from Corpus at the mall the other day. I remember he told me years ago in class that his Latina girlfriend's family rejected him. He always hugged me when he saw me, and he is one of the sweetest young men I know. Who could not like this young man who has high aspirations to return to a school he grew up in and be a role model. I met his girlfriend for the first time, and they are expecting a baby in June.
I read in on page 77 of "Living to Tell the Tale"
"'If you marry him'--"they proceed to prove their claim"-- 'we will have nothing to do with you, or your husband, or any children you may have'"
Married in 1958 and Martin and Lynn are still going strong--I hope my former student can also say this 50 years down the road, celebrate his biracial children and their dual cultures and live a visibly happy life in front of others so caught up in rejecting the construct of the negative "other" that tears families apart.
Dr. K.
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