Skip to main content

Showing Up

This morning a hidden camera tape surfaced of a fraternity on the University of Oklahoma campus singing a blatantly racist song.  The verse included a reference to the N word and how their membership would never include the same.
How sad that this comes on the 5th anniversary of the Cvil Rights march for voting rights in Selma.  It comes juxtaposed in the news with another young African-American man being shot to death by police.
As saddening as this is, what seems even more troubling is that no major Republican figure went to Selma to represent the U.S. Congress at that major Civil Rights venue in this country's past.  Are we that alienated?  Apparently.  What is equally sad is that those frat boys and most of those politicos will never experience the power and empowerment that comes from taking your beliefs to the street.  The willingness to become visible and take a stand for what you know to be morally right is both a privilege and, I submit, an important experience for all.  What must it be like to have no sense of that?  Is that why people unthinkingly sing racist songs or do not think they need to attend milestone events that are crucial to the government they represent?

Though the media is rife with fear about International terrorism, we do well to consider that the inability of this country to deal with race is really the issue that is most threatening.  When I see school systems trying to literally control the narrative in their text books and intimidating young teachers with assessment data that is virtually meaningless, I experience fear.  Maybe the hidden camera can help with this current dilemma.  Evidence, on video, of the complexity of educating a human being just might be the way to go.  That and teachers uniting, despite the continued attempts to alienate and intimidate them.  What's at stake here is sending a generation to college that will sing a different kind of song.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Writing on the Wall

       The first time I saw graffiti that was memorable was in a middle school bathroom.  As 6th graders I often walked home with friends by the middle school we'd soon be attending.  A stop by the boys bathroom near the boys gym placed me face to face with a piece of graffiti that immediately madame and my friends laugh uncontrollably.  On the wall above the urinals, was penned a short poem that read"                     This is a Teepee to take a pee pee,                         Not a wigwam to beat your tom tom      14 year-old humor at it's best.  The laughter my friends and I experienced was cathartic.  Being bottom of the barrel Freshmen could have dire consequences in the boys bathroom.  Those unpleasantries would come later, but for the moment, we were ecstatic and proceeded to read all the g...

The Quality of Optimism

 I've returned to The Book of Qualities, by J Ruth Gentler once again to meet the needs of one of the senior students in my little Writing From Memory class I'm currently teaching in my local community center.  This little volume personifies various concepts and personality traits.  The particular student "in need" seems to be fixated on writing about her past relationships.  Apparently, there were many.   I'm OK with that.  I only hope that she picks a few qualities that are as revealing about herself as those that might describe her Ex's.  There is much to be learned by writing about a quality.  The aforementioned book seems to have survived well over the years.  I first encountered it and its author way back in the late 1970s.  I took a journal writing workshop from her.  Then, a few years later, her book came out and I introduced these writing exercises to my students.  11th grade Juniors seemed to do the best with it. ...

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...