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Showing posts from April, 2010

The Context

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"But controversial language in fiction can lead to powerful discussions, deeper understanding of sensitive topics and critical thinking. Diversity of race and experience can add insight and perspective to classroom discussions. Students can often be the guide to what is right and fair." My workshop has come and gone. I was slightly nervous because I hadn't done this kind of teacher workshop for a few years. It's always frustrating to have to modify the time as you go. Knowing just when to start, dealing with people who enter after you have begun, and then all the anxiety surrounding does anybody care? ten people attended. Not as many as I hope for, but then not one or two which I feared. I know using Alice Walker's short story Elethia was going to be problematic. Aside from the intensity of the topic: racism, racist advertising icons, covert action...there was "the N word." I know it's the context that's important and Alice Walk

Walk a Chalk Line

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I took a ride out to a rock and gem shop the other day. It occurred to me that chalk was a good talisman for a retired teacher. You see, I've been working on a writing workshop I'll be doing at a big conference next week that just happens to be in Portland. My workshop revolves around writing about a personal talisman that helps us "re-member," that is put the pieces back together. It's based on Alice Walker's short story "Elethia," where a young African-American girl keeps a small jar of ashes as a talisman. The ashes are from the burned racial stereotype of an extremely racist portrayal of a character called "Uncle Albert." It's similar to the Uncle Tom or Aunt Jemima stereotype. I'll be asking the participants, in this case teachers from around the country to think of a talisman they could keep to "re-member" something from their past. Here's where the chalk comes in. As I drift in and out of classrooms

Hot Chocolate

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I've been listening to the new album by the Carolina Chocolate Drops. Such a wonderful mix of very traditional folk and skiffle band music with some blues arrangements and some more contemporary things. One of the pieces is called a traditional "Negro Jig." That's just what it is, a traditional jog that was played by African American musicians. I've been explaining to some of my friends that dating back to the "peculiar institution" (slavery) there is a long heritage of Black jug bands and fiddle tunes. Given that the banjo (banjar) came over from west Africa, and the fiddle was part of the English Irish tradition, it's easy to see how this very American original music developed. It's important to note, also, that when African Americans held as slaves were skilled musicians that meant they had some special opportunities to make money being rented out by their owners for dances, parties, and various celebrations and holidays. Trouble was th

Mr. Mo

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Yesterday I got a birthday phone call from an old friend and colleague of mine. Some of my friendships with people I taught with go back many years. My friend just happened to be sitting with a lunch table full of former colleagues so I spoke with all of them for a few minutes. Afterward, it became clear to me how that world and that life and those days are so over. They really are then. That's what makes thee days so sweet. I'm not missing out on anything because the universe that I inhabited then does not exist. Yet a few things linger. During the conversation I learned of the death of another former colleague: Jim Morehouse. Mr. "Mo," as many kids called him, was one of the few extra special people I've known. Born into the pre Civil Rights south, his Louisiana upbringing could have given him plenty to be angry about. He transcended that anger and forged a life of service and became a mentor to generations of young Black men. Of course, in his role o