People who know me know that I am passionate about justice work in urban schools, that I am impatient with incompetence, that I do not play nice in the face of injustice, and that I am a terrible liar who has no poker face at all. What you see is what you get. I hate playing politics. And I never give up.
I feel like I'm always in trouble, that people dismiss me. I am full of contradictions. I try to live a life of love but I hate the evil in charge of the US government and the permission it gives to other evil to spread. I am angry all the time. The #metoo movement has touched deeply into my own history and brought out rage. I fight negativity daily.
I will not stand for sexism but am terrified when sexually harassed in the street. Yes, this still happens, even at my age. Recently a man passed me in the street while saying quite loudly, "I wish I could climb that." My heart racing, I did everything I could to get away as fast as I could. I am 6'3" and this sort of comment has been a daily evil. It still terrifies me.
I struggle with staying optimistic in the face of evil. All that is happening in the US under criminal leadership takes a real toll on my soul. The hope I see in Emma Gonzales (@emma4change), the Black Lives Matter movement, and perhaps the #metoo movement fades quickly when the next horror hits the news.
I cannot stop myself from calling out racism at macro and micro levels. My soul hurts at the constant flow of murdered black and brown men and women at the hands of the police state. As a white woman, I fight as an ally. As a mother of a biracial young man, I am terrified of that knock on the door by the police.
When doctors ask their typical questions about whether I feel hopeless or safe in my home, I can't help but hesitate. I usually make a joke, but it is not funny. As long as we have the government we currently have, the answers to these questions are yes, I feel hopeless. No, I do not feel safe in my home, or the street, or the workplace. The evil that runs rampant in government jeopardizes my life, the life of my husband and son, the lives of my friends and colleagues, and the lives of millions of people I don't know but love.
I try to "stay in my lane" as my dear friend George Moses always says. My lane is education, specifically literacy education. Ah, but what a lane that is. I have the privilege of being a part of something grand in a unique partnership with a Rochester high school that gives me hope on most days. The kids are amazing. We have excellence in teaching and in administration. We have made real and meaningful change for the better. It is good.
It is also terrifying, heartbreaking, and the hardest work I have ever done. People who do not spend their everyday lives in high poverty urban schools DO NOT UNDERSTAND what happens there - the tireless dedication of teachers and administrators to make a small, meaningful dent in the lives of the children and youth they love, only to be vilified in the press.
And it can be crushingly disappointing to work this hard and have the state change the rules. It's impossible to survive under constantly changing rules. Get the numbers! Raise those scores! The threat of state closure looms daily. Everyone suffers. Most of all, kids suffer because they get lost in the battle for higher numbers. It's impossible to do what we know is best practice in teaching and learning when you are under constant threat from state sponsored racism. Add to that state sponsored poverty (e.g. redlining) and what appears to be complete indifference to the plight of millions of Americans living in these purposeful conditions and the impossibility weighs heavy. I believe "they" change the rules on purpose. "They" have no intention of letting urban schools find ways to educate youth. This is white supremacy.
But ...
People who know me know that I am passionate about justice work in urban schools, that I am impatient with incompetence, that I do not play nice in the face of injustice, and that I am a terrible liar who has no poker face at all. What you see is what you get. I hate playing politics. And I never give up.
I feel like I'm always in trouble, that people dismiss me. I am full of contradictions. I try to live a life of love but I hate the evil in charge of the US government and the permission it gives to other evil to spread. I am angry all the time. The #metoo movement has touched deeply into my own history and brought out rage. I fight negativity daily.
I will not stand for sexism but am terrified when sexually harassed in the street. Yes, this still happens, even at my age. Recently a man passed me in the street while saying quite loudly, "I wish I could climb that." My heart racing, I did everything I could to get away as fast as I could. I am 6'3" and this sort of comment has been a daily evil. It still terrifies me.
I struggle with staying optimistic in the face of evil. All that is happening in the US under criminal leadership takes a real toll on my soul. The hope I see in Emma Gonzales (@emma4change), the Black Lives Matter movement, and perhaps the #metoo movement fades quickly when the next horror hits the news.
I cannot stop myself from calling out racism at macro and micro levels. My soul hurts at the constant flow of murdered black and brown men and women at the hands of the police state. As a white woman, I fight as an ally. As a mother of a biracial young man, I am terrified of that knock on the door by the police.
When doctors ask their typical questions about whether I feel hopeless or safe in my home, I can't help but hesitate. I usually make a joke, but it is not funny. As long as we have the government we currently have, the answers to these questions are yes, I feel hopeless. No, I do not feel safe in my home, or the street, or the workplace. The evil that runs rampant in government jeopardizes my life, the life of my husband and son, the lives of my friends and colleagues, and the lives of millions of people I don't know but love.
I try to "stay in my lane" as my dear friend George Moses always says. My lane is education, specifically literacy education. Ah, but what a lane that is. I have the privilege of being a part of something grand in a unique partnership with a Rochester high school that gives me hope on most days. The kids are amazing. We have excellence in teaching and in administration. We have made real and meaningful change for the better. It is good.
It is also terrifying, heartbreaking, and the hardest work I have ever done. People who do not spend their everyday lives in high poverty urban schools DO NOT UNDERSTAND what happens there - the tireless dedication of teachers and administrators to make a small, meaningful dent in the lives of the children and youth they love, only to be vilified in the press.
And it can be crushingly disappointing to work this hard and have the state change the rules. It's impossible to survive under constantly changing rules. Get the numbers! Raise those scores! The threat of state closure looms daily. Everyone suffers. Most of all, kids suffer because they get lost in the battle for higher numbers. It's impossible to do what we know is best practice in teaching and learning when you are under constant threat from state sponsored racism. Add to that state sponsored poverty (e.g. redlining) and what appears to be complete indifference to the plight of millions of Americans living in these purposeful conditions and the impossibility weighs heavy. I believe "they" change the rules on purpose. "They" have no intention of letting urban schools find ways to educate youth. This is white supremacy.
But ...
People who know me know that I am passionate about justice work in urban schools, that I am impatient with incompetence, that I do not play nice in the face of injustice, and that I am a terrible liar who has no poker face at all. What you see is what you get. I hate playing politics. And I never give up.
1 comment:
Your passion is contagious, and you taught me to stand up in the face of incompetence, ignorance, and injustice. Each time you stand up and speak, people are watching. People are learning from you, and they are finding their own voices because you are their role model (you are certainly one of mine). We're not as strong as you yet, because we need a lot more practice every time someone tries to make us feel small. But, I'm getting better at telling these people to go f* themselves. Each time I do, I get a little stronger! :D
Just saying — you are not alone, and we will win. We have to, because failure is not an option.
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