Two Worlds Collide

So, I have introduced my son partially, and that compels me to bring two fifth-grade stories to the electronic canvas.

I was introduced to desegregation at the beginning of my second grade year.  The superintendent hand-picked the minority families that he wanted to attend the "all white" school.  My parent's children were among the "chosen ones."  I did not realize this fact until I was long into my adulthood.

It was fifth grade year for me, when after three years of partial desegregation, those children from the "black school" were set to join the students from the "white school."  We went to a brand new middle school and I was excited because now there would be more people "like me" in my class.  After the first few weeks, I found myself again wondering why I could never make a connection with any of the new students.  One day, another child had the vocabulary to actually express her feelings in a manner that drove the point home.  She said to me, "You act too white."

Thus began my "bird walk" between the two (really three) races.  In essence, I was an enigma, and recess continued to be lonely.

I will have to examine Jaren's fifth-grade story tomorrow -

Diverging Lines

Something happened last week as I worked a conference registration table.  A participant came by to retrieve her registration packet and I noticed that she had the same last name (Tusai) as a teacher who lit the fire within my heart for English instruction in the eighth grade.  After my eighth grade year, she left, and I never knew what happened to her.  When I commented to the participant that her name was similar to one of my favorite teachers, she replied, "She's my sister-in-law."  Tears filled my eyes as I realized just then what an impact this teacher had upon my life - even after 36 years, the compassion within my heart remained.

Then I reflected upon my ninth-grade year.  Mrs.Tutor ignited my love for Algebra I and math - something that I had struggled with in the 8th grade.  Because of Mrs. Tutor's positive influence in Algebra I, I completed Advanced math and Calculus before graduating from high school.  Two teachers who changed the course of my life still remain within my heart.

Fast-forward to 2007, the year my son graduated from high school.  His experiences in school were so different from mine.  Each year there was a struggle to get classroom teachers to accept him and foster his intellectual growth.  In seventh grade he was especially beaten down because I insisted that the principal place him in pre-Algebra (he absolutely adored math and up to this point, had the grades and scores to match his passion).  His teacher set her cap for him that year, and he was not successful.

--I trust God

How were our experiences with teachers so different?  Why does there exist a gulf between my success in school and his?

An educator can make you or break you.

I always chose to be a part of the construction crew.

The Struggle - Year Two

My third grade teacher was as gentle as the dew-kissed petals of a rose on Sunday morning.  I was still the only one who looked like me in my class, but at least this teacher did not pinch my shoulder or glare in my face.  Friends were not a priority.  I only wanted to do my best so that I could gain her approval.  My grades improved to a place that was similar to my first grade experience, and I remember just working hard.  Self-confidence was alien to me, as I was also the "fat girl."  But I could look forward to school because of the kind face that sat behind the teacher's desk.

Recess was not my friend.  Even if we had an organized game of kickball, I was always the last one chosen to be on a team.  If we played "red rover" no one ever asked for me to be sent over.

My parents had a new challenge to meet - my younger brother was now in a first grade class with a teacher fixed upon labeling him "crazy" because he shook his leg as he concentrated while working.  Only as an adult did he admit that the teacher ignored him in that class, and coldness was the norm.  We never heard about that in our home at night.  He wanted to please also, but eventually found that the only way to get attention was to "act out."  Needless to say, he was not successful in first grade.

I had three older sisters.  The twins were sophomores that year, and one was in the sixth grade.  Through my eyes, everything seemed perfect for them, and I wished that I could feel accepted like they seemed to have been.

Checking the Foundation

I admit - often I choose to remain quiet rather than speak.  This blog is my attempt to examine myself as it relates to my experiences in education, and see if my experiences can be used toward an understanding of others.

I was a child of the 60's and 70's, spending the first grade being educated in an all-black school.  My parents chose to move their five children to the "all white" school, after being approached by that system's superintendent....and so my journey began.  The year was 1967 ..... and imagine my comfort level upon entering the second grade class and there was no one else there who looked like me.  We had not gone through "total" desegregation in the south.  The teacher spent many days glaring in my face and pinching my shoulder as a form of reprimand.  I was a straight-A student in first grade.....  The only grades that I could attain that year were C's and D's.  None of the girls would play with me at recess; the guys were nice enough, but little boys were not to play with little girls.  So I dreaded free time and recess.

My sisters tell me that every evening I would come home and cry at the the drop of a hat.  What thoughts, fears, disappointments were being threaded into that little girl's spirit?  How would those experiences ultimately shape her future?  I sometimes wish that I could visit that little girl and assure her that everything would be okay.

Walk with me and let's learn more together.