Also spent some time trying to finish the final draft of the Golden Apple Site Observation report and preparing for tonight's American Literature class. The internet modem got fried two days ago which slowed things down a bit but a very able AT&T repair man came by this morning and it is up and running again.
I am continuing to read Courage to Teach and making new discoveries on almost every page. Some of the ideas from Parker Palmer came alive last night. My friend Stephen asked me to attend the Spoken Word Spring Showcase at Oak Park River Forest High School. A little more than seventy students participated in group poetry presentations and read individual works of their own composition. What I saw connected to the ideas in Courage to Teach.
Palmer talks about the assumptions we (teachers mostly but others) make about students. He suggests that we are fearful of our classes, which causes separation and disconnection, and that this fear comes from the assumptions we make. One that he mentions is that the students are brain-dead. They sit in front of us, the belief goes, without thought or interest. Palmer notes, and those of us who have been around education long enough recognize, how often often we hear descriptions like this: "Kids today don't care," "Students aren't able to concentrate because of video games," "This class is really lazy." And so on. Palmer wonders why the students who seem brain-dead while they are sitting in our classes come to life as soon as they pass the threshold of the classroom and reengage with their friends in the halls.
He suggests that they are not brain-dead; they are afraid. They might be afraid because they live in uncertain circumstances, with divorce, unemployment, addiction, or death. They might be afraid because everything they have heard and learned has told them that they are not worthy of love and acceptance. They may worry about being bad at school, too fat, too tall, or too shy. They may be afraid because we have built an educational system built on fear.
I heard many of these fears expressed with painful honesty (and often artistic grace) at the poetry fest last night. I heard a young lady tell how she had learned that "a girl is nothing but a statue made of skin." A young man told how his "grades were sagging like his pants." One girl described the pain of an incestuous attack. Others told the pain of love gone bad, of drugs that took over, of parents who were absent, of pain, and of loneliness. The general theme of the evening was "I forgive." Much of the audience spent the evening in tears as we heard the pain that needed to be forgiven.
We also saw that these seventy plus young people were not brain-dead. They were alive and questioning and bristling with occasional anger and frequent pain. One young lady, a graduating senior, related to us how she had never succeeded in school. She said she had "all of the learning disabilities." Nothing ever seemed to make sense. She talked about her personal birth through poetry and writing and how it brought her out of the shadows of loneliness and failure.
I think I have mentioned already that Palmer claims that "good teaching is based in identity and integrity." That is what was on display at OPRF High School last night. The young poets had the courage to go looking for their own identities and were generous enough to share what they had found with the audience and with each other. They had the integrity and wholeness to look without flinching at what had caused them pain and to find with their poetry teammates the ability to forgive.
Thanks to Stephen, OPRF, and all the Spoken Word Poets for a great evening of love, honesty, and art.
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