Lingering Histories

This week, I found a particular draw to “A Geography of Stories” by Phip Ross. It didn’t make me feel something in a positive way, nor did it give me all kinds of great ideas about teaching, yet I still couldn’t get passed it. Perhaps it was because it talked about rural life – something I can relate to – rather than city life. In fact, I’m sure that’s what it was, because as I was reading through this chapter, I couldn’t stop thinking about where I spent most of my childhood and teenage years.

I’m sure anyone reading this post knows by now that I grew up in a tiny, rural town in northern Minnesota called Pequot Lakes. I have very mixed feelings about my hometown. When asked about it, my mind typically zeros in on the negatives of it. I frequently talk about how the area was so desolate that kids used to hang out at the local gas station for entertainment. Or I talk about how everyone is practically a white, conservative, straight, Christian photocopy of one another. Or how not only did everyone know everyone else and their gossip, but also most people were related in one way or another. The lack of hesitance I had when I decided to move to a city should indicate pretty well how much I felt like I belonged to the community I came from.

However, reading through Ross’s chapter made me think more deeply about my hometown and how I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for the fact I grew up there. This chapter centered around the idea that “place influences identity,” that you can’t truly escape your place of origin (Ross 44). At one point, Ross says, “As we grow, we loosen the hold on our childhoods, but continue to be nourished by the places they gave us” (Ross 47). I took that to mean that we may forget about the places we come from – intentionally or otherwise – but we are ultimately made from those places and will carry certain relics from them, whether we like it or not. This is something I’ve experienced a lot, especially since I started this graduate program.

As I’ve filled out 100 reflections over the past several months, I’ve found myself thinking back to my hometown more times than I’d like. I’ve looked back on the community I’ve come from, the education I received, and how my identity has been shaped by these experiences. As much as I’d like to forget about Pequot Lakes, I find that it’s important for me to reflect back on my past in order to grow into my future. I believe this process is especially important for me, as I plan to teach students who will come from very different backgrounds from the one I have. I need to recognize the challenges that will come from these differences.

Source:

Ross, Phip. “A Geography of Stories: Helping Secondary Students Come to Voice Through Readings, People, and Places.” Rural Voices: Place-Conscious Education and the Teaching of Writing, by Robert Brooke, Teachers College Press, 2003, pp. 44–62.

Ignoring the Truth

Hi all! This week, I want to talk about Linda Christensen’s second chapter of “Reading, Writing, and Rising Up”. In this chapter, she talks a lot about how children’s media – books, cartoons, ect. –uses “secret education” to indoctrinate children to believe that one race, one gender, one body-type, etc., is better than all of the rest (Christensen 40). At one point, Christensen says, “Many students don’t want to believe that they have been manipulated by children’s media or advertising” (Christensen 41). This quote stood out to me because I have been noticing this same sort of reaction from not only children, but also adults, when someone points out to them that they are being insensitive in some way.

As an example, I will share with you an uncomfortable moment from a family Thanksgiving celebration this year. At my grandparents’ house, my uncle was asking me how my grad program was going. I told him about practicum and how my school was located in North Minneapolis. He reacted to that fact the same way much of my family and many white, middle class folks would react. He worried about me being in a “scary neighborhood” and asked if it seemed dangerous. He also made a few side comments about how bad “inner-city” schools are. Now, I usually try to avoid conflict, especially at big family gatherings, but these comments were boiling beneath the surface and I couldn’t just let this moment pass. I told him about how great the students at my school were. Then, I told him a little bit about how harmful that sort of rhetoric is. Instead of realizing he was in the wrong, he just moved on to his next point and said it’s probably their parents’ fault that the schools get a bad rep. No matter what I said, he just couldn’t come to terms with the idea that what he’s been spouting off his entire life is wrong and harmful.

This event – as well as countless like-events before it – has proven to me that as a teacher, I will have to try and open eyes both in and outside of the classroom. I will have to continue to try and show my relatives and friends truths that they’ve never heard of or refuse to hear. I will also have to show hidden truths to students like the ones mentioned in Christensen’s quote. I can see this as being a great challenge because you cannot force someone to believe in something, even if the evidence is right in front of their eyes. All you can do is continuously present to them the evidence and hope they see reason. As a soon-to-be-teacher, I plan on trying my best to learn as much as I can about social justice issues so that I will have plenty of evidence to bring to the table when the time comes.

Source: “Unlearning the Myths That Bind Us.” Reading, Writing, and Rising Up Teaching about Social Justice and the Power of the Written Word, by Linda Christensen, Distributed by ERIC Clearinghouse, 2000, pp. 39–56.