Me and the D: (Re)Imagining Literacy and Detroit's Future

If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart.-Nelson MandelaIam only now, in my tenth year of teaching, understanding Mr. Man- dela's words. To facilitate student learning, I must open my mind to alternative ideologies and methodologies. I must remember what it means to be a student.Living the Banking ModelMy first few years of teaching focused on control- ling classroom activities to meet state standards. Like many new teachers, I worked in public schools composed of lower- and middle-class students who needed remediation and underperformed on assess- ments. Hollywood movies of an inspiring teacher glorifying the underdog were not my reality. To keep order and meet professional development goals, I used my university education to create sim- ple, discussion-based lessons, rife with handouts, worksheets, and easy-to-grade tests. As the expert at the front of the class, I saturated the minds of seemingly unruly learners, just a few years my ju- nior, with canonical fictions, which were "essential to their survival in Western culture." A majority of students did not pass the state tests; their grades indicated mediocrity as well. Though students generally liked me, my frustration mounted when they moaned about activities I prescribed; I didn't understand why they just wouldn't do the work as I had done: school was their job and jobs aren't always fun. If a lesson was too constrictive, which most were, some would act out to disrupt; deten- tions, and the occasional administrative referral, ensued. Ultimately, I arranged grades to fit a curve to show growth over time. Each year I added a few more multicultural texts, as suggested by academ- ics, and, perhaps once a quarter, included an activ- ity I learned in a professional development seminar. Overall, parents and administrators approved of my documented methods: my proficient lesson plans, agreeable nature, and participation in the occasional extracurricular supported team playing. In parent conferences, where my effectiveness was questioned, I defended myself with data, behavior reports, and a multisyllabic vocabulary that alienated all involved from true discussion and solutions.Unaware of it at the time, my teaching methodology exemplified Paulo Freire's "bank- ing method" (72), which asserts that teachers de- posit information into student minds for receipt, memorization, repetition, and storing. Students, oppositely, lack creativity and fail to transform themselves in this "filing" system of education. I was continuing the cultural and political agendas of silencing student thoughts and voices to better control them. Though I read English texts with my students, we spoke different languages: my ivory tower theory trumped their talk of pop culture and suburban lifestyles. Most of the time, students didn't speak: my authority outranked their whys and opinions. In authoring a classroom story, I ig- nored my audience and wrote for my own edifica- tion. In an effort to avoid being vulnerable, I crafted a classroom of the mind, which fostered boredom, inapproachability, and mis- behavior. Though I believed I was liberating learners by teaching them "culturally rel- evant" texts (Ladson-Billings 473), I furthered the educa- tional agendas of "The Man" against whom I had raged for so many years. Moreover, American cul- ture, which touts degrees and expertise, labeled me an underappreciated resource burdened by low pay and hopeless cases. I had no reason to reflect: most said the system was irretrievably broken. Yet, I was the system. It is no wonder I went home every day hating my job, believing America's future was in the hands of inept illiterates. I was caught, just like my students, in a system wanting of heart.Considering myself blameless, yet disap- pointed at failing, I left teaching for a year to work in wedding planning. I became a statistic: I quit, as most young teachers do, after the three-year mark. …