A winter reflection
“If society cannot be changed under any circumstances, if there is nothing that can be done, not even small and humble gestures toward something better, well, that ends the conversation. Our sense of agency shrinks, our choices diminish, and our obligation to our fellow human being ends” (Ayers, 2004, p. 151).
As I write from the study of our old shotgun house in a more progressive neighborhood of Louisville with the scent of pine emanating from the glowing Christmas tree behind me and the warmth of a space heater rising up my legs from a position near my feet, I reflect, yet again, on the hopeful struggle and my place in it. I write to make better sense of my position as a college professor—how I can help my students (soon to be teachers) craft new lenses with which to view the world, come to a more critical consciousness about the structure of injustice that exists, and to harness the courage to do something about it; how I can best help my service partners (emerging from service-learning relationships tethered to my college courses) meet the needs of their constituents in the local community; and how I can most strategically help my friends and service partners in the Caribbean (whom I have worked with in their schools and children’s homes since 1998) either escape their grinding poverty or carve out a more dignified existence and lead progressive change in their communities. Generally, I want to (re)examine how I can best leverage my privilege toward a more socially-just condition.
Recently, I have witnessed a renewed sense of agency and solidarity (and, frankly, “obligation to our fellow human beings”) through a recent struggle at our university involving a student who professes belief in the national socialist movement (a neo-Nazi organization). While the controversy is far from over I am emboldened by the way so many faculty, students, and staff (mostly of color, but some white) have stood together, withstanding critique from mostly white and male faculty, and demanding that the university begin to reassess the situation as more than one regarding free speech, but also one that involves issues of community and safety.
I have also been encouraged by the way so many friends, faculty, and staff have worked to help a young man whom Gina and I brought to the university from the Caribbean. Their outpouring of assistance to him has greatly eased his difficult cultural transition and helped him perform quite well, academically, his first semester.
I’m also heartened by the work of my teacher friend in the Caribbean who continues to tirelessly fend for the youngest members of her community, trying to build a respectable and sufficient educational facility for them. This young woman, without a high school degree, continues to advocate locally in her community, with the Ministry of Education, and with the government to make sure these children receive the kind of education they deserve.
Finally, my spirit was reinvigorated once again as my friend and musical co-conspirator, Will, engineered (with his partner, Kristin) another holiday party at the Volunteers of America Family Shelter. Members of the PrESS Network, former BU students, friends, and family coalesced with Will and Kristin to bring a little more brightness to 36 of our most vulnerable members of the community.
So, I remain hopeful. Transformation is possible and it is happening. In my recent reflections, I’ve focused much on how our market brand of capitalism creates the sense for a need of instant gratification. If we can’t get it now, we must be doing something wrong or we need to take another course or manufacture a new desire. I reject this. My experience in this struggle (about eight years now) suggests that I should look in the near opposite direction that our consumeristic culture would point us toward. We’re convinced resistance won’t work because there is no easy answer and there are no instant results. So, why would it be worth it? I look to a close friend and teaching comrade, Milton, who has been in the struggle for forty years. And, he is still in it. That is my inspiration. To walk arm and arm with him, my brother. And, it is to walk arm and arm with my avowed partner for life, Gina, who has chosen to engage this struggle with me. We strengthen and empower each other. And, it is to walk arm and arm with my brothers and sisters who helped organize a recent teach-in intended to examine the social implications of Hurricane Katrina. A renewed solidarity that crossed several forms of differences emerged from this event. We created a broad-based, multi-issued grassroots cooperative poised to better understand and combat oppressive social forces.
We are always struggling in the tension between reality and possibility. This tension is the contested terrain upon which I try to toil: sowing labor, critique, and reflection, and reaping courage, hope, and possibility. Ayers argues, “Teachers in an open democratic society must learn to think freely and without fear, to have and to use minds of our own to discover and to make sense for ourselves without any connect-the-dot formulas, without bowing or genuflecting to any authority, and without any absolute guarantees whatsoever” (p. 10). There is no there. It is the journey—the hopeful struggle to make the world just a little more beautiful; to crack open a wider creative space; to pursue more peaceful possibilities.
As I write from the study of our old shotgun house in a more progressive neighborhood of Louisville with the scent of pine emanating from the glowing Christmas tree behind me and the warmth of a space heater rising up my legs from a position near my feet, I reflect, yet again, on the hopeful struggle and my place in it. I write to make better sense of my position as a college professor—how I can help my students (soon to be teachers) craft new lenses with which to view the world, come to a more critical consciousness about the structure of injustice that exists, and to harness the courage to do something about it; how I can best help my service partners (emerging from service-learning relationships tethered to my college courses) meet the needs of their constituents in the local community; and how I can most strategically help my friends and service partners in the Caribbean (whom I have worked with in their schools and children’s homes since 1998) either escape their grinding poverty or carve out a more dignified existence and lead progressive change in their communities. Generally, I want to (re)examine how I can best leverage my privilege toward a more socially-just condition.
Recently, I have witnessed a renewed sense of agency and solidarity (and, frankly, “obligation to our fellow human beings”) through a recent struggle at our university involving a student who professes belief in the national socialist movement (a neo-Nazi organization). While the controversy is far from over I am emboldened by the way so many faculty, students, and staff (mostly of color, but some white) have stood together, withstanding critique from mostly white and male faculty, and demanding that the university begin to reassess the situation as more than one regarding free speech, but also one that involves issues of community and safety.
I have also been encouraged by the way so many friends, faculty, and staff have worked to help a young man whom Gina and I brought to the university from the Caribbean. Their outpouring of assistance to him has greatly eased his difficult cultural transition and helped him perform quite well, academically, his first semester.
I’m also heartened by the work of my teacher friend in the Caribbean who continues to tirelessly fend for the youngest members of her community, trying to build a respectable and sufficient educational facility for them. This young woman, without a high school degree, continues to advocate locally in her community, with the Ministry of Education, and with the government to make sure these children receive the kind of education they deserve.
Finally, my spirit was reinvigorated once again as my friend and musical co-conspirator, Will, engineered (with his partner, Kristin) another holiday party at the Volunteers of America Family Shelter. Members of the PrESS Network, former BU students, friends, and family coalesced with Will and Kristin to bring a little more brightness to 36 of our most vulnerable members of the community.
So, I remain hopeful. Transformation is possible and it is happening. In my recent reflections, I’ve focused much on how our market brand of capitalism creates the sense for a need of instant gratification. If we can’t get it now, we must be doing something wrong or we need to take another course or manufacture a new desire. I reject this. My experience in this struggle (about eight years now) suggests that I should look in the near opposite direction that our consumeristic culture would point us toward. We’re convinced resistance won’t work because there is no easy answer and there are no instant results. So, why would it be worth it? I look to a close friend and teaching comrade, Milton, who has been in the struggle for forty years. And, he is still in it. That is my inspiration. To walk arm and arm with him, my brother. And, it is to walk arm and arm with my avowed partner for life, Gina, who has chosen to engage this struggle with me. We strengthen and empower each other. And, it is to walk arm and arm with my brothers and sisters who helped organize a recent teach-in intended to examine the social implications of Hurricane Katrina. A renewed solidarity that crossed several forms of differences emerged from this event. We created a broad-based, multi-issued grassroots cooperative poised to better understand and combat oppressive social forces.
We are always struggling in the tension between reality and possibility. This tension is the contested terrain upon which I try to toil: sowing labor, critique, and reflection, and reaping courage, hope, and possibility. Ayers argues, “Teachers in an open democratic society must learn to think freely and without fear, to have and to use minds of our own to discover and to make sense for ourselves without any connect-the-dot formulas, without bowing or genuflecting to any authority, and without any absolute guarantees whatsoever” (p. 10). There is no there. It is the journey—the hopeful struggle to make the world just a little more beautiful; to crack open a wider creative space; to pursue more peaceful possibilities.
posted by adam at 11:26 AM
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