When I came to Mississippi eight weeks ago, I set a list of goals for myself:
1. Increase my awareness of the inequities that continue to plague the education system.
Through the series of speakers that have come to talk to us and the firsthand experience of spending time at Holly Springs High School, I feel like I’ve come to develop a greater depth of understanding of education in America. Before coming here, I didn’t know that there were still segregated communities in the United States and I didn’t understand the way in which large parts of America neglect the children that fall victim to this system.
2. Come to understand what's being done to combat these inequities.
Sadly, although not unexpectedly, I’ve found that not nearly enough is being done to attempt to change this. However, the work of programs like MTC and its enthusiastic participants has been refreshing. In the face of a challenge as daunting as the need to completely rework a system from the bottom up, the teachers of MTC must focus on improving education “one classroom at a time.” Progress has to begin somewhere.
3. Start to develop an idea of where I fit into this work. What responsibilities do I have in the future? How do I want to incorporate a commitment to these issues into my life?
Spending the summer in Mississippi has helped me to reaffirm my commitment to education. I’m not sure whether or not MTC is right for me, but I know that I will definitely pursue teaching in “critical needs” areas in the future. However, a commitment to these issues is not simply a career; it’s a way of relating to the world, a lifestyle. I plan to continue to integrate community engagement into my life, during my time at Amherst and beyond.
4. Gain insight into Southern culture. Work to identify and deconstruct stereotypes about the South.
Having never been to the South, this has been quite an experience. It’s strange; at times I feel like Mississippi is strikingly similar to Massachusetts, but most of the time it’s felt like another country entirely. At least that’s how I felt initially. In coming to understand the differences between Mississippi and Massachusetts, I’ve come to a greater understanding and appreciation of the diversity of America. While I don’t claim to understand the South from living here for a mere eight weeks, I have tried to recognize it for what it truly is. Mississippi is land of contradictions, as we’ve heard again and again. There is horrible ugliness as well as magnificent beauty to be found here. One thing I can say for sure is that what I experienced here was certainly not what I was expecting.
It’s hard to say what I would change about the internship. Most of the speakers were really good. I enjoyed our work at the William Winter Institute (I felt like we were most productive here… I feel like I got a lot out of each part of the internship, but being able to actually create something made me feel useful, like I was doing something meaningful.). I don’t think we needed weekly project meetings (maybe bi-weekly?). It seemed like most of the time we didn’t have much to do at the summer school (although I guess it’s a positive thing that things generally went smoothly). It was interesting to observe different classes and role plays and to have time to work on our projects, but I wish we could have been more involved somehow (oftentimes I felt somewhat dispensable, but I’m not sure how to remedy this). I wasn’t a big fan of delicious or twitter (it felt like busywork), but I think the blogs were helpful. I really enjoyed researching and writing my syllabus (it made me start researching graduate schools and programs, and I think I want to pursue a doctorate program in education with a concentration in language and literacy).
My advice for future interns would be to try to keep an open mind. Recognize and then (attempt to) discard your biases. Bring to this experience no expectation other than that you will work hard and learn something new every day. Allow yourself to have honest and emotional reactions to what you’re experiencing. Let yourself feel enraged, depressed, helpless, and (hopefully) ultimately empowered. At times, you will feel overwhelmed. At times you might feel underwhelmed. You might find that you have a lot of “free time,” but really you don’t. Use this time to get things done—blog (even if you hate it, don’t dismiss this task—structured reflection is good), work on your project (if you have to do a project—make sure you pick something that you’re passionate about and make it your own). Stay on top of your “assignments.” There aren’t many of them, and there’s no reason to stress about them. Take advantage of your time down here. Eat the outrageously greasy food (if you’re a vegetarian, you’re going to have to get creative or eat bread for two months… And people are going to think that you’re weird. Carry food with you. There are literally restaurants with NO vegetarian (never mind vegan) options.). Spend time in the heat and humidity. Listen to the way people talk and what they do and don’t say. Watch the students. Examine how they relate to one another and their teachers. Read some Southern literature. Take time to explore campus and the surrounding area by yourself, at your own pace (make sure you allow plenty of time before sun sets). Take pictures. Drink lots and lots of water—take water with you everywhere. Be prepared for lots of big bugs (and the occasional lizard). BUY COCKROACH TRAPS. Buy bug spray so you don’t have to squash the cockroaches when the traps don’t work. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. Grow to appreciate the bus ride to Holly Springs—don’t sleep during it; enjoy the scenery. Study the history of Mississippi. Try to meet it on its own terms. Enjoy your time here. No matter how homesick you might get, your sixty days will fly by. Appreciate it while it lasts.
For my project, I chose to study how poverty affects language acquisition. I had originally planned to write a paper, but instead decided to design a syllabus as if I were teaching a college course. After considering the advantages and disadvantages of each approach, a syllabus seemed to better accommodate the scope of the topic without sacrificing depth (I had actually written a couple of pages of my paper before deciding that I wasn’t doing justice to the complexity of the topic by reducing it to some ten or twenty odd pages). See below (for lack of more advanced technological skills, I've simply copied it).
There were several main themes that I teased out of all the research I did. First, there is the link between poverty and poor health and consequently challenges to cognitive and thus academic development. The lack of quality prenatal healthcare and nutrition for poor mothers leads to a higher occurrence of premature births and low birth weights, which creates a higher risk for respiratory, neurological, and cognitive problems, which all translate to challenges to the child’s intellectual growth. Furthermore, because many children born in poverty do not have access to the social, educational, and material resources that help to mitigate the harmful long term consequences of health problems in infancy, issues with which the middle class might be equipped to combat instead develop into life long difficulties. Additionally, there are higher levels of lead in the blood of children living in poverty because they are often forced to live in older houses with greater amounts of lead.
Furthermore, parents raising their children in poverty are often employed (if they are employed at all) in jobs that do not require them to address a variety of mentally stimulating problem solving tasks, whereas parents in the middle class are often offered these opportunities. It has been shown that parents simulate the types of environments that they experience in the workplace in their homes. Thus, middle class parents tend to offer their children the advantage of greater mental stimulation because it is what they themselves experience at work.
Basil Bernstein put forth the groundbreaking (although admittedly controversial) verbal deprivation hypothesis. He contended that the middle class tend to use more instruction, less physical intrusion, less negative feedback, a wider vocabulary, longer utterances, more specific diction/less vague pronouns, and more explanation/explicit qualification (and thus more subordinate clauses). This type of language he termed “elaborated code.” In this code, there is “universalistic meaning,” meaning that it is verbally explicit because the speaker does not assume that his audience shares his understanding of the meaning. In contrast, the lower classes often use “restricted code,” which has “particularistic meaning” because it is verbally implicit. This code is further marked by the repeated use of a limited number of conjunctions as well as short commands.
Although these two codes are fundamentally different, Bernstein was clear in his insistence that while there is a difference between the codes, neither is inherently deficient. However, because the way that the classroom is structured demands elaborated code, it puts poor students at a disadvantage. Middle class students, from birth, are socialized in a “formally articulated structure” because they experience space, time, and social relations in an explicitly regulated context that is mindful of a distant future. This idea of a linear progression from beginning, middle, to end is reflected in the language, while this pattern is absent from the discourse of students raised in poverty. Further, in the middle class language mediates between the expression and social recognition of feeling, thus allowing for language to mediate the relationship to authority. Middle class students thus come to school prepared to engage in exchanges of elaborated code with educators who assume positions of authority.
As can be expected, poor students often experience a discontinuity between home and school structures. As a result, especially when very young, they appear subdued, passive, and dependent. It has been shown that nursery school staff use “lower level” language when addressing these students because they perceive their passive behavior as incompetence. Educators, from the time that children attend nursery school, thus pave the way for a self-fulfilling prophecy that perpetuates the cycle of underachievement.
The most important thing that I learned from conducting my research was the danger of “individualizing failure.” When teachers fail to recognize (never mind account for) the structural forces that affect students’ language competency, they often fall into the trap of “legitimizing inequality.” If Mississippi (and this nation) is to overcome the challenges it faces, we must recognize inequality as an illegitimate, socially constructed phenomenon for which society must take responsibility.
Syllabus:
Requirements: Two papers (5-7 pages—each worth 20% of your grade) in addition to a longer final paper (15-20 pages—40% of your grade) that will require you to conduct fieldwork (at least six hours of observation in a local pre-k program—5% of your grade) and present your findings by constructing and teaching a 15 minute lesson at your fieldwork placement. Frequent short writing assignments (5%). Class participation (10%). See paper assignments and details regarding fieldwork attached. I will accept revisions of the first two papers. I. Introduction (week 1) Class 1: What is sociology? Assignments (always due at the start of class, excepting Blackboard posts, which are due by 10:00 PM the night before class)— Class 2: What is language? What does this mean in a sociological context? Assignments— II. Poverty, Health, Cognition, and the Implications for Language Acquisition (week 2) Class 3: How does poverty affect health conditions? Assignments— Class 4: How does poor health present an obstacle to language acquisition? Assignments— III. Code Theory of Language Part 1: Introduction (week 3) Class 5: Stimulation in the Home/Introduction to Code Theory Assignments— Class 6: Introduction to Code Theory Continued… Assignments— Part 2: Coming to Understand Bernstein (weeks 4-6) Class 7: Code Theory Assignments— Class 8: Code Theory Assignments— Class 9: Difference vs. Deficit Assignments— Class 10: Criticism of Bernstein Assignments— Class 11: Wrapping up Code Theory Assignments— · Payne, Ruby K. A Framework for Understanding Poverty (1-35). Highlands, TX: aha! Process, 2005. · Bernstein discusses ten major characteristics of restricted code or “public” language (see p 42-43 of Class, Codes, and Control). Generate a one sentence example of each characteristic to be posted on Blackboard. Class 12: Going beyond Bernstein Assignments— Part 3: Socialization (week 7) Class 13: How the Structure of Society Shapes Patterns of Thinking and Discourse Assignments— Class 14: Assignments— Part 4: Conferences, Part 1 (week 8) Class 15, 16: Assignments— Part 5: Implications (week 9-10) Class 17: How Schools Perpetuate the Problem Assignments— Class 18: Code in the “Real World” Assignments— Class 19: Speaker Series Part 1: Linguistics Professor Assignments— Class 20: Speaker Series Part 2: Early Childhood Education Professor IV. Conclusions (weeks 11-12) Part 1: Reflection (week 11) Class 21: Reflecting upon the Course Assignments— Part 2: Conferences, Part 2 (weeks 11-12) Classes 22, 23, 24: Assignments— V. Presentations (weeks 13-14) Classes 25, 26, 27, 28 will be spent in the schools either teaching your lesson or observing your classmates teaching their lessons. Attendance at each session is mandatory, regardless of whether or not you are teaching. Failure to attend will affect your final grade. Field Contract: It is the responsibility of the student to seek and ensure placement at a local pre-k by the fourth class, as indicated on the syllabus. It is expected that the student will arrive on time, in compliance with the dress code of the institution he or she is visiting, and will conduct him or herself respectfully during each visit. The student must also comply with any specific regulations that the institution may have in place (i.e. CORI checks, etc.). The student is expected to visit the same institution for the duration of two hours on three separate occasions. Fieldwork should be completed by the 13th class, as indicated on the syllabus. I agree to these terms and conditions. I understand that failure to comply with this contract can result in a failing grade for this class: Student Signature:____________________________________Date:________________ Name of Placement: Advisor at Placement: Day 1 Date: Time in: Time out: Advisor’s Signature:_______________________________________________________ Day 2 Date: Time in: Time out: Advisor’s Signature:_______________________________________________________ Day 3 Date: Time in: Time out: Advisor’s Signature:_______________________________________________________ Paper # 1: Due at the start of the 6th class. Last day to hand in a revised paper is at the start of the 10th class. What disadvantages does the poor child face in his linguistic development? Begin with the idea of poverty and what obstacles this places before a child. Then draw connections between these obstacles and the practical implications for language acquisition. Go beyond a summary of what we’re read. Seek to identify the major themes and connect and relate them in a meaningful way. 5-7 pages. Paper #2: Due at the start of the 13th class. Last day to hand in a revised paper is at the start of the 17th class. Argue the strengths and weaknesses of Bernstein’s theory (you can assume your audience is familiar with his work, thus negating the need for a perfunctory description or summary). Your aim in this paper is not to decide whether or not you “agree” with Bernstein, but instead to examine the rigor of his methods and the strength of his conclusions. Examine also the criticism we’ve encountered in our study of Bernstein. Adapting elements from his work and from the work of the other sociolinguists we’ve examined, develop a sense of your own theoretical understanding of code. 5-7 pages. Final Paper: Due at the time of your second conference. We have been looking at ways that schools exacerbate rather than ameliorate the challenges present in the process of educating the poor child. How do schools perpetuate the problem? Given the decided structural constraints that produce these conditions, outline a detailed and specific plan for schools (addressing suggestions toward the administrators of the school district, the administrators of individual schools, and the teachers). I’m not asking you to address ways in which we can face these problems at a structural level (i.e. by fighting poverty). That is, I’m not asking you to outline a plan so that there will be less children living in poverty. Instead, I’m asking: how must we educate the poor child? Prepare a fifteen minute lesson that is directed at a classroom audience of varying socioeconomic statuses. You will be expected to teach your lesson at your fieldwork placement. 15-20 pages, not including your lesson plan.
This weekend has been so busy that it’s been a bit of blur. On Thursday evening Julie arrived in Memphis. We (eventually… after much searching) found a great place to eat— Stix in Collierville— and then stopped by Joe’s house for dessert (he was nice enough to make us brownie sundaes, which were delicious).
On Friday, I took Julie on a tour of campus and the Square (and an unsuccessful and abandoned attempt to find Rowan Oak— after getting caught in quite the rainstorm, we gave up). That night we saw WALL-E (which was surprisingly political).
On Saturday, we took a trip to the Delta (specifically Greenwood, Indianola, and Money). I felt prepared for it (but no less outraged) because we’ve been talking all along about the conditions there. I can only imagine my reaction if we had visited during my first couple of days in Mississippi. I knew that there was extreme poverty, although seeing it firsthand makes it that much more real. I felt like I was visiting some area recently touched by a natural disaster, an area that simply hadn’t had the chance to clean up yet. To think that these homes aren’t some work in progress, recovering from some horrible incident, but instead this is just they way they are… I guess it’s the sense of stagnation that hit me. I can’t imagine what it’s like to live in these houses, to see kids grow up and never get out, to live in the same rundown, unsanitary conditions for years upon years. That’s not to say that there’s not hope for these kids or for the town of Greenwood (I have to believe that there is, and I think MTC has to believe that there is— or what are we doing here?), but it’s such an established cycle that when even one child escapes it, it’s extraordinary.
Then on Sunday, we went back to Memphis (after a stop in Holly Springs). Before Julie left, we had a chance to visit the National Civil Rights Museum. Wow. I feel like it’s something to be experienced, that words don’t do it justice. To see people of all races walking through the exhibits, looking at the pictures, reading the stories, really bearing witness to what happened— it helped to affirm for me that remembering is a vital part of being able to move on, that only when we preserve and honor the reality of what happened and those who worked to change it can we identify and deal with the problems (and there are many) that continue to plague us as a nation.
Ellen Meacham’s talk served as a reminder of the ways in which America often neglects the problems that are happening right here at home. When I would tell people that I was going to spend the summer in Mississippi, most of them thought of MS as a "poor state," but their (and initially my) knowledge of the issues was vague and superficial. I think that to understand the situation here, you have to come see it for yourself, to talk to the people who have lived it.
One thing that struck me in particular from Ms. Meacham’s talk was her discussion of the changing face of poverty—a “peculiarly modern paradox,” as she says. These children aren’t dying in the streets of starvation, but they’re still suffering from the effects of malnutrition: “nearly 28 percent” of the children are obese. The effects of health complications spill over into the classroom in the form of absenteeism, inattentiveness, etc. I think that if people truly understood the conditions here, many would be moved to act. But, sadly, I also believe that geographical separation plays a role in easing people’s consciences. While I think Mississippians are far from helpless in shaping their own fates and helping their own citizens, I do think that it is important that Americans recognize their responsibility to help other Americans— across city, county, and state lines.
I. Mr. Barnes
One of the most prominent themes of Reggie Barnes’ talk was “don’t assume anything.” I think that this is a sound and valuable piece of advice for anyone working with kids. Too often, we become so consumed by test scores, by the grind of a routine, by our own pasts, and by frustration that we forget that each student is truly an individual with his or her own story. Working with people, especially youth, requires a more individually tailored approach than a totalitarian can give. While this does not discount the importance of discipline in the classroom, it means that a teacher must be a leader, not just a blind adherent to a set of prescribed classroom rules.
Teachers must resist the urge to be a “knight in shining honor,” as Mr. Barnes put it. This seems to be a recurring theme, along with the insistence that teachers become a part of the community. A teacher needs to attempt to integrate into the fabric of the town, to strive to understand it on its terms. I think that the “knight in shining honor” insults his or her community in a way, despite the noblest of intentions, by swooping in with a “holier-than-thou” attitude and the idea that he or she will “save” the community. Although I think this is a natural impulse, teachers must guard against it if they wish to help enact any real change.
II. Ashley Johnson
Spending six weeks (has it already been six weeks?) in Mississippi has been a process of coming to know what I didn’t know. The reality that still today a railroad track or a river oftentimes separates the “white” from the “black” part of town shocked me when I first learned about it a month and a half ago. The idea that schools are still segregated, that segregation still exists at all, was something that seemed so foreign to me. This isn’t my America, I thought. But in reality this is America (I’m beginning to see that the United States encompasses a wider range of experiences than my six states of New England can show me). My conception of this country was one where there were still horrible injustices, but they were something that didn’t consume me. Down here, it seems that racism and the repercussions of slavery stare me in the face every single day (that’s not to say that the Northeast isn’t racist, but that it’s something that seems easier to ignore). I guess this all relates to Ashley Johnson’s talk, albeit tangentially, because my response to it was fundamentally different than it would have been six weeks ago. Although I still feel frustrated and enraged when confronted with the harsh realities with which children must find a way to cope in the Delta, I didn’t feel like I was hearing about some faraway or nightmarish fantasy. I’ve come to realize that just because I live in the North doesn’t mean these aren’t my problems and struggles too; they are, or at least they ought to be, on the minds of all Americans.
I never idealized America, far from it, but I never understood it either. And now I think I’m beginning to finally do so, after having lived here for nineteen years.
Overall, I enjoyed Freakonomics. I think that the professed objective of the book (to get people to think more independently, to question everything) is a worthy one. Too often people never examine in any great detail the depth, integrity, or biases of the sources of information that they regularly consume.
That being said, I have one major qualm with the book. I feel like it had a holier-than-thou/patronizing tone. The choice to include little excerpts praising Levitt before each chapter were really infuriating. By the end of it, I just felt like saying, “Give me a break! Sure, you’re saying some controversial things, your thinking is somewhat innovative (although not quite as groundbreaking as you yourself claim), and some of the things you’re saying require some guts, but really? Get over yourself.” It just left me with a bit of a bad taste in my mouth.
“Steven Levitt may not fully believe in himself, but he does believe in this: teachers and criminals and real-estate agents may lie, and politicians, and even CIA analysts. But numbers don’t.” Oh, really? Numbers lie all the time. It just seems like such an amateurish thing to say. Furthermore, “‘Levitt is considered a demigod, one of the most creative people in economics and maybe in all social science.’” The audacity of including such a quote in one of your own books! Not even on the cover, trying to sell the book, but inside. The work should speak for itself. It ought to stand on its own merit without having to explicitly remind the audience, “See how good this is? Isn’t it revolutionary?” It just seems cheap. The whole book does in a way. It feels like a sort of hodgepodge of what could have been scholarly articles that lack the requisite intellectual and procedural rigor (or at least transparency of method) and that have been watered down and packaged for “the masses.” But Levitt knows this. It all relates back to audience. Levitt admits that there is no unifying theme (repeatedly). If he just wants to get people thinking (which is quite a feat in and of itself), then maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
All of this is somewhat tangential. Ranting aside, I really did find the book interesting. The breakdown of the hierarchies within the drug world (well, one example of it) was fascinating—especially reading the book for a second time with some familiarity with Venkatesh’s work (yeah Amherst/Soc 12!). I also found the analysis of the names particularly captivating. I would have preferred a collection of scholarly and peer reviewed articles, but that’s a personal preference. It reminds me of “pop lit.” There is a time and a place (often and most everywhere, hopefully) for what, at the risk of sounding pretentious, I would call “real” literature. But once in a while I want to curl up with just a story, something that I don’t have to work at (but that necessarily in return is much less rewarding to the reader, I think). And that’s what Freakonomics offers. And for some people, it’s “pop lit” or no lit. And I guess if it’s “pop economics” or no economics, I’d rather have people thinking.
Ms. Barksdale’s presentation was very informative. The school board at my high school definitely had a presence, but no one ever took the time to explain how a school board really runs or for what duties they’re actually responsible. Dr. Mullins had explained to us the problems that arise when superintendents are elected, and Ms. Barksdale’s talk helped to clarify one specific way in which this becomes a problem. The only personnel that the school board has direct charge of is the superintendent, and if they do not have the power to appoint him, it would seem that this severely undermines their ability to effectively be the superintendent’s “boss” of sorts.
Another thing that I found shocking was that only 9% of Oxford’s school budget is funded by the federal government (with 48% coming from locals and 43% from the state). Because funding for the schools relies so heavily upon property taxes, the areas that are poorest have houses with less value and thus have less money for the schools. These children are already coming to school with a slew of decided disadvantages: they’ve been exposed to language (never mind complex language) much less than their peers from wealthier families, they’ve often never been read to or don’t have books in the home, their home environments are often unstable, and oftentimes they lack the support systems that help students to develop emotionally and socially. Even with the best funded schools, it would be quite a challenge to adequately help these children, but they’re entering underfunded and generally poorly staffed schools, and so the cycle continues.
When Ms. Barksdale described her relationship with B, a young man for whom she has been a tutor and just a generally supportive and stable person, I couldn’t help but feel inspired. It is for kids like B, good kids who aren’t afraid to work hard even when it seems that everything in the world is stacked against them, that I want to become a teacher. And children like him exist everywhere—perhaps more often in poverty, but there are all types of poverty, e.g. emotional, cultural, etc.—although these often overlap. What I really mean is that to enact positive change, you don’t have to travel to the most impoverished or war torn areas of Africa, or even to places of poverty like the Mississippi Delta (although these do offer wonderful and engaging opportunities for service). I plan to be involved in education in some capacity for the rest of my life (most likely teaching English, but I’m also interested in sociolinguistics or perhaps running my own school), but wherever that takes me, whether it involves Mississippi or not, I can at least surely say that I will work to be a positive force in the life of children.
I have been thinking a lot about how I would handle having to teach a classroom of students with vastly different levels of preparation (which is something I almost assuredly will have to face some day). In my career as a student, I’ve had the fortune of having some excellent teachers who were able to effectively engage most of the students. I recognize that the following strategies would not necessarily work for all subjects (I have an English classroom in mind when thinking of these strategies) and that conceiving and actually implementing strategies are two entirely different things. That being said, I would:
1. Let the students learn from each other (i.e., directed and closely supervised group work—although I would never assign “group grades,” which is another topic entirely). Some of my most rewarding experiences in the classroom have been peer interactions—helping other students to understand something very often clarifies and deepens the “teacher’s” understanding. If it runs smoothly, this approach involves everyone at whatever level of understanding they may have. Although this would probably fall apart, or at least not be as beneficial, the wider the gap was between students.
2. Ground the class in student based discussion rather than lecture (once again, easier in some subjects and classrooms than others). This seems obvious, but once again it allows students to engage with the material on various levels (maybe some of the “lower” students contribute more obvious ideas while what the more advanced students contribute goes beyond the others, but still at least the majority of students are not excluded from the activity because of how little or how much they understand. To be successful, this would most likely require some careful guiding of the conversation.
3. Design homework, worksheets, tests that ask open questions. Students can analyze a piece of literature with varying levels of insight and complexity, but I would try to make sure no assignments were so simplistic that they failed to seem worthwhile to the advanced students but I would try to ensure that they remained accessible to at least the majority of the other students. Again, pretty obvious.
I guess that these “strategies,” if you can even call them that, avoid the real issue and make more sense in a classroom where the differences between students are a reality but not as dramatic as they often are. What seems to be popular is to “teach to the top,” and I agree. I think that doing so doesn’t necessarily mean you lose the other students, but teaching to the bottom almost always means that you lose the top students. I think I would try a two-pronged attack—teaching to the top, with room for students to engage with a text or assignment with varying degrees of complexity, while also trying to lay the groundwork for the students who are far behind. On some regular schedule, I would assign fundamental work (grammar, literary terms, etc.) and as students finished, they would move on to another activity (a discussion or reflection?), allowing me to spend time with students who needed more individualized instruction. I also plan to spend a substantial amount of time correcting and editing papers. While lessons about strategies to approach/organize/write papers are helpful, what I’ve found most helpful is actually digesting individualized constructive criticism (I would probably assign short reflections on the essays they’ve written to try to encourage them to pay close attention to my suggestions). I would hold writing conferences with students, probably once in class and then optional ones after school, allowing for at least some differentiated instruction. I would also direct students to whatever resources were present in the school (for example, at my high school, students from the National Honor Society were responsible for making sure that there were two tutors in the library two days a week—a resource that was sadly underused). If no resources were available, I would try to implement some. Maybe a writers club? A book club?—I don’t know how successful these would be, but I’d try anything to get kids involved and excited about the subject matter. With these ideas in place, I recognize that I would need significant time in the classroom to test what actually works. I think that what is most important is to recognize the challenge that such a classroom would present but to never give up on any student or group of students.
The stance with which I’ve taken the most issue since arriving here in Mississippi is that which supports corporal punishment in schools. I know I’ve already mentioned it (and we’ve had a discussion about it), but it’s something that’s still in my head and just doesn’t sit well with me.
From http://www.womensenews.org/article.cfm/dyn/aid/662/context/archive:
"When a girl is spanked by her father or paddled by a male school teacher, she is being trained to submit," says Jordan Riak, a retired school teacher and the executive director of Parents and Teachers Against Violence in Education, a California-based nonprofit group dedicated to getting corporal punishment banned in U.S. schools.
"When a school district permits teachers to paddle girls, it is setting those girls up to be victims of future male authority figures, whether it be a boyfriend, husband or employer," Riak claims… Guthrow's research enforces an assertion by Block of the Center for Effective Discipline. “It's all part of a cycle of violence--loss of self esteem, accepting violent behavior,” she says. “The more children are spanked, the more likely they are to engage in digressive behaviors.”
It continues:
One woman writes of her experience with paddling at a Florida high school in a letter posted on the Parents and Teachers Against Violence in Education Web site. She describes how she was made to bend over a male administrator's desk while wearing a miniskirt and was ordered to spread her legs further apart. While another male administrator watched, the paddler first caressed her buttocks with the paddle, then delivered three stinging whacks.
Paddling inherently permits those in power to exploit children entrusted to their care. The requisite presence of a witness provides only a nominal system of checks to protect students. As that Florida woman experienced, this measure can lead instead to a sick sort of voyeuristic “buddy system,” where two people trusted with authority permit each other to indulge in egregious moral lapses. If even some studies suggest (and they do) that paddling is psychologically damaging to our children, isn’t that enough to outlaw it? My God, is the alleged “effectiveness” worth the risk? And what about children who have been (or are being) abused outside of school? The classroom needs to be a structured, welcoming environment. I think that to incorporate violence (or the threat of it) into an environment that many students need as a haven of sorts from violence, instability, and fear is self-defeating. To me, violence of any kind is inexcusable; scaring a child into obedience by threatening physical harm is simply wrong. That point aside, even if a teacher doesn’t consider paddling to be “violence” or is convinced that he/she can “do it the right way,” the system’s flaws (namely the extreme ease with which someone could physically or sexually abuse a child under the guise of discipline) astronomically outweigh any potential positive impact it might have (although I find it hard to believe there is any).
I wouldn’t want that on my conscience…
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