Journal # 7

While reading Hehir’s article, I was mortified by the depiction of Penny’s social worker in that she believed that Penny could not possibly have hope for her disabled son to lead a relatively normal life in the future (p. 11). I have a friend who is currently earning her Master’s degree in social work and working with autistic children. I am sure that she realizes the differences between children on the autism spectrum and other “abled” children, but I know that she wants to help them lead their lives in a way that is as normal as possible. She sees their developmental disorders as differences rather than a sentence that they shouldn’t have hopes and aspirations. Furthermore, she certainly would not be telling a parent that coping with a disabled child is like coping with the death of a child. Maybe this child didn’t turn out precisely the way you imagined him, but what part of life ever does turn out that way?

Similarly, it was interesting to see Cyndi Jones' point of view that “a disabled person is presumed deserving of pity – instead of respect—until the person proves capable of overcoming the disability through extraordinary feats” such as the blind man who climbed Mt. Everest (p. 13). I think it’s true that we often pity disabled people so much that we stop seeing them as people. We focus so much on what they can’t do rather than finding ways to include them in mainstream life experiences (like education). It’s hard for me to see a solution to this problem because disabled people are taken out of the classroom. Even in my experiences as a student and now as a substitute teacher, disabled students are often paired with aides and not always incorporated into mainstream classrooms. This shows society’s view that disability is a tragedy, and we should quietly pity these people who live “lesser” lives. However, perhaps if we stopped looking at disability as a tragedy and saw disabled people as real humans, we would provide them with the extra tools and resources they may need to live adequate lives alongside the rest of us.

This certainly goes along with socio-emotional learning. If a disabled child is told all his life that he is different… So he can’t do this or can’t do that, so he’s not allowed into mainstream classrooms with all of his “normal” classmates, so he shouldn’t even bother having dreams about having a job or a future, he will certainly believe it himself. How can learning occur if this child has already been written off by society? Are we just going through the motions and pushing him through school because we pity his status? Are we really doing our best to try to equip him to find a place in this world? I sincerely hope that society understands that yes, disability makes certain things difficult or even impossible for some, but no one should be told that they can’t work towards goals or dreams. No one should be looked at as if they don’t have talents to offer this world.

Journal #6

While reading Fine and McClelland’s article, I was particularly struck by the section regarding sex education. It disturbs me that in such a modernized country, we are still teaching our children about sexuality so archaically, preaching abstinence, shame, and negative effects, rather than teaching about safety, acceptance, and allowing each individual to make the decision right for them. While I agree that students shouldn’t be running around having sex before they’re ready, I believe that we must give them the tools to carefully make their own choices while comprehending the effects such choices could have on their lives. As an English teacher, I can assume that I probably won’t be too involved in the curriculum of the health department, but we’re kidding ourselves if we think an “abstinence before marriage” (p. 306) way of approaching the subject is really going to help a group of confused, curious, and hormonal adolescents.

It seems that this approach to teaching sex education is even more detrimental to the adolescent gay or lesbian student. Not only do these students feel they’ll be ostracized for their sexual orientation, but here they are also being taught that they shouldn’t have or act on sexual feelings at all until marriage. If a student is already struggling or coming to terms with his or her own sexuality, the current sex education classrooms probably aren’t doing much to help them feel valued or even comfortable. According to Anderson, “teenagers…usually report that between the ages of twelve and fourteen they first realize that they are much more sexually attracted to persons of their own sex” (p. 339). This means that not only are these teenagers getting an outdated and old-fashioned sex education, but they are also simultaneously “[realizing] that they suddenly belong to a group of people that is often vehemently despised” (p. 339).

These articles just reinforce the idea that my classroom has to be a safe place for all students. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve been subbing and overheard male students refer to each other as “fag” or “queer” in a derogatory way, as if it were nothing. I can’t imagine being a gay youth in a classroom where these disparaging remarks are yelled back and forth as if a “fag” or a “queer” is really a second class citizen. It’s hard enough to be an adolescent, so I want my students to know that being different is ok. I want them to know that just because something doesn’t fit the mold doesn’t mean it is bad. I want them to know that each person, regardless of color, gender, religion, sexual orientation, or whatever, is still a person and deserves to be valued and treated with respect.

Journal # 5

Reading L.J. Dance’s article about ideal types of urban teens made me think twice about how I would approach teaching in an urban environment. Coming from a middle class suburban upbringing, I would have to put in a lot of effort to try to understand the neighborhoods my students come from. I always imagined that I would have a lot of trouble (or would have to work really hard) to be the boss of my students, to make them know that I’m the leader and they have to respect me as I respect them. However, after reading about some of the types of urban “gangster” personas ( p. 52) that Dance researched, I think I might approach an urban classroom in less of a power-struggle way.

What I didn’t understand before is that many students act “gangster” in order to have a certain reputation in their neighborhoods, or even just to stay safe. I think that, if I were to truly care for my students, I would have to try to allow them to maintain their reputations. I think it would be a really difficult balance to be in control of my classroom, but to also not make my students appear weak to their peers who may be ready to fight them or who may be trying to prove themselves to dangerous members of the community. While I don’t approve of crime and deviant behavior and would certainly intervene if I thought any student’s life was in jeopardy, I would have to try to understand the community my students come from in order to help them lead safe lives. Since I did not come from an urban background, I think it would be really important to create a welcoming and comfortable environment for my students, and to perhaps have recurring 1-on-1 meetings with my students to check in with them in a no-pressure atmosphere, just to make sure that they are on the right track and they know that I am here to help them.

I think my analysis of Dance’s article correlates directly to Valenzuela’s article, particularly regarding the teacher’s duty to care for their students or to “know many of their students in a personal way” (p. 63). One of the most important things I can do is to really get to know my students; if they feel a level of caring on my part and on the school’s part, students will be more likely to see school as a tool for upward mobility and less likely to drop out. They need to feel that someone believes in them , otherwise, why should they continue working at it they don’t think it will get them anywhere in the long run? It is my responsibility to never assume anything about my students, and I’ll need to get to know them personally and understand where they come from and what they want for themselves in order to best help them succeed. Yes, teaching content is important, but learning can only occur once students are comfortable and willing to participate.

Journal # 4

I think we can argue that most teachers truly do care for their students in that they want them to succeed academically. Why else would they go into the profession? It’s certainly not the long hours, small paychecks, and demands from parents and administration that lure us to the field. We want to make a difference; we want to create a classroom environment that allows kids to learn to the best of their abilities. But, as Rolon-Dow’s article shows us, students need to feel more than just our will for them to succeed. The level of care they need from us is more than just concern for their brains. We need to show genuine care and interest in their lives outside of school.

The girls interviewed in the article felt as though the teachers, despite many having taught in this particular community for upwards of ten years, knew very little truth about the lifestyles of community members. Even worse to read was that many of the teachers, who happen to be mostly white, carried themselves with an air of superiority over the young students because they don’t live in this lower-status community (p. 101). The girls seem to feel forgotten about by their teachers, by government, and left to struggle in a poorly funded school. Perhaps the lack of resources or the dilapidated state of the grounds could be softened by a showing of genuine care for the girls (and all students, for that matter).

I thought Ms. Lamar and Ms. Evans, who were interviewed briefly in the article, are doing a great job in actively involving themselves in the students’ lives and showing true care for them. Ms. Lamar embraces the social construct theory of teaching, which shows students that they are able to effect change within their own communities while learning at the same time. This method would work particularly well in this community because so often, students in lower income areas feel stuck, helpless, and unable to change their situation. Ms. Evans, on the other hand, focuses on loving and treating her students as if they were her own children (p. 103). Imagining students in this way helps her appreciate the differences that each unique student brings to her classroom. Unfortunately, not all of the teachers at this school are able to practice in this way.

I think Nieto and Bode sum it up best – “Teachers and schools that affirm students’ identities, believe in their intelligence, and accept nothing less than the best have proved to be inspirational for young people, even if they live in otherwise difficult circumstances” (p. 277). The best way we can truly prepare our students to be contributing members of society is to believe in them, nurture them, and care for them. Students can’t learn if they believe they can’t; we must help them know that they are capable. The first step in doing this is to create a genuine, meaningful, trusting relationship between teacher and student… Real learning will follow.