4 posts tagged “delta”

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living in the median





[ASSIGNED: READING RESPONSE]

This entry is an assigned response to the Executive Summary of A Portrait of Mississippi: Mississippi Human Development Report 2009 published by the American Human Development Project.

If my hair is on fire, but I'm standing in a bucket of ice water, I will be -- on average -- comfortable. Talking about medians and averages in income, human development, education, or health paints an equally skewed picture of reality, and certainly not one on which policy can or should be made. How can we effectively discuss individuals living lives of "choice, value, and dignity" unless we discuss individuals?

A short aside: While none of these statistics is likely to come as a huge surprise to most of us in MTC, it's fair to say we are not the intended audience. The audience for a such a report is policy makers, many of whom probably have a one-dimensional view of rural life, poverty, and the unendingly complex role of race in a place such as Mississippi. And while we're at it, let's go ahead and acknowledge that we're really talking about a few specific regions of Mississippi here. As one of our guest speakers said in a first-year class (sorry, I can't remember who or exactly when) if we subtract the Delta counties from Mississippi's well-being statistics, while still not exemplary, our state falls in the lower third of the nation rather than dead last. Ahead of a dozen or so other states that do not suffer the same indignity. Sure, there are pockets of urban poverty and its attendant woes in and around cities such as Jackson or Greenville. But that's true of all states with urban centers: Chicago, Detroit, Newark, Oakland, etc. and it's mitigated statistically, much like my flaming hair, by the suburbs and viable smaller towns. 

In the Delta, a place ever haunted by extremes, there is no average. Almost no one exists at the median.

So, all that being said, what do we do? I think we need to start by looking past the averages and medians. Using such figures gives the false impression that there is a gradation. Living and working in Washington County, the seat of the county group that has some of the highest white and lowest black incomes, and lowest HD index, I see the results of a cluster of wealth, a cluster of poverty, and a huge gap in the middle. That gap, that missing middle, is the story of individuals, not averages. And there lies the problem with reports such as this. They spent a pretty penny on gathering facts, paid a designer five or six grand to produce a book that is probably printed on glossy premium paper, and we can pat ourselves on the back for bringing these issues to light. Like we didn't know this already in our guts?

And then what? "What will it take to improve Mississippi's ranking on the AHD Index?" What, indeed? 

These are lofty recommendations, to be sure, and well intentioned. But they smack of what journalists refer to as "the no-shit lede." Well, fine then, let's improve the health of African American men. Geez. Why hadn't I thought of that before? Hey, let's improve the quality of public education. Now there's a new idea! Connect at-risk boys to school. Ok, sure. And could you please do something about the humidity, too, while you're at it? And water my tomatoes while I'm in Oxford this June? These sorts of bromides help us feel like we're doing something, but I don't see any substantive information on how these things will be accomplished.

water tank delta
In looking through the full report on the web site, it appears the "What will it take ..." section of the executive summary suggests something the report does not deliver: There are no recommendations, no policy guidelines, no pathways, no suggestions. Granted, the AHDP's stated mission is to "stimulate debate about political and human issues." I'll give them that. But to "empower people to hold elected officials accountable for progress on issues?" Not so much. Without offering policy recommendations or guidelines, how can simply presenting facts make elected officials more accountable? I worked for an education policy non-profit for 18 years. I didn't make policy or set editorial standards, but fish don't create water and they get pretty wet during the course of their days. One thing I took away from my years there is that it's very easy to present facts, to wring our hands, and rend our garments. It's another thing altogether to recommend, create, or enact policy; to live and work where the statistics live and breathe; where averages become individuals; to, you know, make a difference.

It's so easy to point to Mississippi and its glaring deficiencies. It's so facile to point to the gaping discrepancies between white and black, rich and poor, and decry the status quo. But few who have not lived here or have no roots here can ever understand the deep complexity of these issues. They go far beyond simple minority/majority. (In my town, I'm a minority. There is no diversity. My language and culture are marginalized.) 

"Choice, value, and dignity." Easy terms to throw into the wind. Frankly, I find the opening paragraph of the "What will it take..." so full of jargon and feel-good buzz words it angers me. I've sat through enough of those meetings crafting the perfect mission statement that includes every conceivable piece of empty rhetorical claptrap, and can recognize the product.

I made a living producing reports and books just like this. Now I teach children. I teach individuals, not medians.

3 comments Tags: economics, culture, race, poverty, statistics, mississippi, delta, mississippi teacher corps …

like drowning every day

[REQUIRED BLOG: EDSE 600 FIRST SEMESTER REFLECTION]

It was yesterday and it was a million years ago that I started this blog to chronicle the immense changes I was about to undertake.

Change was what I wanted (thus the name) and I got it. Pretty much the only aspect of my life I recognize lately is the smell of my shampoo (which I now buy online because no place in the Delta sells it). I wanted a challenge, and I certainly got that, too. But how do my expectations match up to the reality?

I'm not sure at this point I even know what "the reality" is. Using the single article assumes there is, indeed, only one reality. And of course there isn't. When I read over the anticipatory entries, I realize that I had no idea how all-encompassing the experience would be.

It's like drowning every day.

Every day I am completely immersed in the reality of the Delta, the reality of teaching, the reality of what my life (oh, it was so nice just a little while ago) has become. I thought the year without an actual job would be a challenge. It was, and I suppose that by meeting it, and by learning to live with a lot of uncertainty I was preparing myself for the challenge of teaching in the Delta. Surely getting up at 4 a.m. to unload a truck gave me the physical stamina I've needed to get up and teach every day. I had never before appreciated how physically demanding teaching would be.

Other expectations -- cultural, professional, social -- were also shaken. The Delta culture is even more extreme  than I'd anticipated. I remember being fascinated by the way the powder-fine soil worked its way into my skin the first time I visited here. I wrote about it, trying to get my head around it, but even then I didn't understand the full power of that metaphor and how completely the Delta would become a part of every piece of my life. From the nightly pesticide-spraying trucks in the summer, to the damp barren fields of the winter, I know I'm in the Delta by the smell and weight of the air. I'm drowning in it.

Professionally, I'm still struggling with whether it was wise to make a move like this, but I do think I'm succeeding as a teacher. What has amazed me most is how quickly I feel like I've been doing it a long time. I remember those days in summer school (remember those lesson plans with every second stage-directed and planned?) thinking I'd never be comfortable and confident in front of a class. How would I remember where I had set things down? How would I know everyone's name? And now, I'm completely at ease. It seems so natural to be there. And I know, it's a cliche, but really love those moments when my students "get it" -- even if it's only a few. In a way, that makes it all the better.

Students have told me, directly and indirectly, that I'm different from other teachers; that I make them work but in a good way that helps them learn. OK, some hate me, but if none did I wouldn't be doing my job.
 
Several others in this program have written about the shock of realizing the enormity of the challenge. I think I had a head start on that having been a parent and knowing what it means to have a daily challenge that doesn't end when a given hurdle is cleared. I've expereinced the false horizons and learned to continue to put one foot in front of the other.
 
What I did underestimate, I think, was the depth to which some of my students don't care about school or about anything, for that matter. I remember thinking I didn't care about school, and I remember hearing other kids say they didn't care. But what we really meant what that we didn't care at that moment about school more than we cared about some other urgent adolescent matter. So many of my students truely don't care a lick about school or anything that happens here -- except, perhaps, the free meals and socializing. There is simply no way to make any curriculum relevant to someone who doesn't care about his or her own life.
 
The hardest realization has been that I will, in the end, leave some behind. But not without a struggle.

And once again, I'm drowning in it. Every day. Weeks go by when virtually every conversation I have is about teaching. With one welcome exception, every person I interact with on a regular basis here is a teacher or somehow affiliated with a school. I know, or I hope, that at some point my life will begin to have some balance again. Workin' on that. But it's hard. I'm immersed. I have to force myself to leave school and teaching behind occasionally for a few hours.

Can I extend this metaphor? Can I tell you how the cycle of planning, teaching, adjusting, planning, grading, adjusting is like the waves that simply never let up?

Can I tell you I don't actually know how to swim?

2 comments Tags: teaching, school, schools, failure, reflection, student, nathan, education …

between the wolf and the dog

[REQUIRED MTC BLOG: TWO QUESTIONS]

Entre chien et loup
Entre chien et loup

What is my favorite time of the day, and why? I think I have to say it's setting my room for the next day. I know, I know, you're thinking it's because it's the end of the day and I'm about to go home ... but that's not it. Yes, it's the end of the day, but it's also the beginning of another.

It's the time between. A threshold. Entre chien et loup: Between the wolf and the dog. The French idiom for twilight, when the light is just dim enough that you can't distinguish between a wolf and a dog. It's also used in a more symbolic sense as a threshold between hope and fear, the familiar and the dangerous. And that's kind of where I am in that time.

At first, I would get my room and the boards all set just out of a sense of responsibility, thinking that I should close the loop between that afternoon and the next morning. The old publishing production habit of eliminating all possible variables because something you haven't thought about yet will surely go awry.

But now I find a wonderful sense of peace in that time. I've written before about Camus' essay on the Myth of Sysiphus -- probably one of my favorite pieces of nonfiction writing --- and I think this hour or so in my classroom is when I feel closely tied to its spirit. There's the obvious metaphor: returning each day to repeat what seems like a futile mind-numbingly difficult task. But Camus was interested not in the struggle to get the rock up the mountain, and not in the tragedy of its repeated descent, but in the moment of Sysiphus' turning, his moment of awareness of his fate.

At each of those moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. He is stronger than his rock.


I feel that strength each day at this time. I feel stronger than, and ready for, anything that will happen in that room.

robin & gelisia
robin & gelisia

The other question: Why should someone apply to Mississippi Teacher Corps? I'll tell you why not to apply: You're not sure what you want to do next, and this seems like a good way to kill two years while you decide. You've never been in the South and are curious about it. That's like saying you're curious about mountains so you're going to climb Everest.

I will tell you that you should really want to do this before you get here. You should be passionate about what you want to do here, and at the same time ready to admit that you will probably not be able to accomplish that goal. But you will find a new goal that you've never dreamed of yet. I've done a few more things in my life than most of my colleagues here, and I will still say, as they do, that this is right up there with the most difficult. (Considering that giving birth did not last 2 years with a one-month break next July)

Please visit first if at all possible. See the Delta. (There's room in most of our homes for you.)  Read the blogs and talk to us. Invest in a really good 3-hole punch.

Read Sysiphus.  




2 comments Tags: favorite, teaching, dog, south, mississippi, everest, advice, wolf …

about | the name | the blog

the road down
the road down

Everyone comes to a crossroads whether by choice or by circumstance. I've chosen.

This blog is to chronicle my experience in the Mississippi Teacher Corps, a 2-year alternate certification program in which I will also earn a Master's in Curriculum and Instruction. I will teach English in a critical-needs Delta school.

Part of the program's requirements will include keeping a blog with some assigned entries. Since teaching is by its nature a reflective practice, this seems like a good idea, and I hope to use the blog for reflection on all aspects of this experience.

I'm not just moving to the Delta: I am leaving behind an 18-year career as art director and production manager for American School Board Journal and other publications at the National School Boards Association. I'm leaving the majority of my 50 years of living in and around Washington DC.

This is a change I've worked hard to earn. I'm scared to death.

I'm hoping to learn from your comments as well.

UPDATE:

Circumstances are that I will be delaying the move to the Delta until 2007, but it will happen. Meanwhile, I find myself with a liminal year. While it's not exactly what I'd expected, it's still a crossroads. It's the time that exists between my two lives. I don't, however, intend for it to become simply some time I spend while I wait for a new life to begin. It will have a life of its own and will serve to help me define myself in the context of movement forward.



Post a comment Tags: change, mississippi, about, delta