There’s not much difference to me between the adjunct crisis in higher education and the labor conversations that fast food and other low wage workers are having. It’s just that we like to see ourselves as different. We like to see our destinies as different. But they’re the same thing.

– Excerpt from an interview between inequality scholar Tressie McMillan Cottom and reporter Carla Murphy of Colorlines.

I appreciate that McMillan Cottom talks about structural change for vulnerable workers across class lines. I recently left academia after three years as an adjunct professor, where I struggled with voicing my concerns about adjunct exploitation.

But McMillan Cottom reminds me not to fall into the myth of scarcity — there is room to talk about all these injustices. Exploitation is exploitation is exploitation. Read the fascinating interview here — it touches on feminism, labor protests, and reparations.

cover of Dana Goldstein's "The Teacher Wars"As many reviewers have already said, Dana Goldstein’s The Teacher Wars is a super smart look at the history of the American education system, with a focus on the key stories and leaders we need to know in order to understand what’s happening now.

If there’s one thing I took away from the book (which is currently #8 on The New York Times Hardcover Nonfiction bestseller list), it’s that none of the proposed solutions in our current (and heated) education debates are new. In fact, they’ve all been tried before. We are, as usual, repeating history.

I’ve been following Dana’s reporting on education (and feminism and criminal justice) ever since we were part of the same writing group in Brooklyn in 2012 (I even got to workshop early drafts of the book’s first chapter). When I was teaching writing and urban issues at American University, she was a guest speaker in my classes (students loved her).

I’ve been so excited to see her successes, and the timing of this book feels particularly symbolic: Last month, I left academia for a full-time job in the education reform movement (I’m a writer at Bellwether Education Partners). I’m so happy to have more time to delve into the issues she so smartly writes about, and to do so while on the clock, so to speak.

Last night she joined New America Foundation’s Kevin Carey and Slate.com’s Jamelle Bouie to discuss the book, and while there were a ton of smart things I could highlight from the discussion, let me focus on one.

Dana’s book (and other writing over the years) describes the dichotomy where teachers are either seen as heroes (e.g., their work with the highest needs kids is a form of community service) or devils (e.g., they are failing our kids, our schools, and our communities). In the best case scenario, teachers are the “angel-magicians” who mentor vulnerable children, and in the worst case scenario, they are killing the American Dream.

Dana argues, and I would agree, that this dichotomy is damaging because it locks teachers into one camp or another without leaving room for improvement. Teachers aren’t viewed as professionals who can use training and mentorship to grow, but as a corps of do-gooders who either are or miserably fail to be saviors.

At the same time, as Dana said in a recent interview, “Because we have a relatively weak social safety net [in the United States], we’re really asking [teachers] to close these gaps between life outcomes for middle-class kids and life outcomes for poor kids.” So there is a sense in which teachers are doing extraordinary work.

At yesterday’s event, I asked Dana how to dismantle the harmful dichotomy while still acknowledging the tremendous teachers who work in extremely challenging circumstances. How can we name and honor the teachers who are essentially being asked to double as social workers, “particularly in high-needs schools in poor areas, where children are often coming from unsteady home lives?”

Dana recalled public school teachers from her childhood (in racially integrated schools!) who were heroes for some kids, buying winter coats for those who couldn’t afford them, etc.

But she also talked about wanting teachers to have less of these cases per classroom. Ideally, Dana said last night, a teacher has only a few students that she needs to be a hero for, and the rest of the students just need “a great instructional leader.”

Obviously this means we need classrooms that are more integrated, both racially and economically.

Based on her research, Dana thinks we also need to systematically move the best teachers into the highest needs classrooms. Does this imply the Teach for America (TFA) model works as a solution? Not quite, argues Dana. She doesn’t want new or novice teachers who only work for a few years (a missionary-style model that Dana’s book traces as far back as the 1800s).

Her problem with the TFA-style model is the “churn and burn cycle,” where even if a classroom teacher is an all-star veteran, the constant turnover in the school around them can negatively impact student achievement.

This makes sense when you think about how kids need consistency to develop trust and build relationships. But Dana also added that part of the “churn and burn” problem is that the attention and energy of the adults in the school is “focused on recruitment not instruction.”

So how do we get the best teachers into the classrooms that need them the most?

Dana has reported on the Talent Transfer Initiative, an attempt to get the best teachers into the highest needs classrooms and to get them to stay there.

Last night, she also talked about polling that reveals the reasons teachers leave: No career ladder. Little or no recognition from adults (feedback, compliments, mentorship). Problem principals.

Tackle those issues and teachers might be willing to work in some of the most challenging schools.

To read more, including Dana’s 11 recommendations for improving American education, go buy the book.

BariWeissTitle

 

 

 

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Oh, Bari Weiss. You’re being so glib and flippant, writing in shorthand as if we already agree with you, that I can’t tell if you’re being serious or if your Wall Street Journal piece from last week, “How to Survive—and Maybe Enjoy—PC University,” is just click bait. I have to suspect the latter since it’s not difficult to knock down your sloppy logic about the supposed problem of politically correct universities.

You complain about course catalogs that include classes on transgender health disparities. God forbid. You really think it’s not worth anyone’s time to study the health and wellness of trans people? Is it not worth anyone’s time to take a class from a leading expert on transgender health who’s gotten awards from National Institutes of Health? Should we just ignore the fact that trans people have high rates of mental health issues and suicide and are less likely to have health insurance than heterosexual or LGB individuals? And even if trans people didn’t have poor health outcomes, do trans issues warrant no attention from academics and students?

And, in fact, I think it’s great that someone is a specialist in transgender health in the same way it’s great that someone is a specialist in Fermentation Science, Russian adultery novels, and the Science of Facial Reconstruction. You don’t seem outraged by those highly-specialized fields (perhaps because your outrage was just a cover for your transphobia). Shouldn’t we support broad-ranging intellectual curiosity?

You caution students from taking courses with titles they can’t understand, including a literature course on “Romantic Extremities.” A quick search clarified that the course is about the “romantic fascination with psychological, political, aesthetic, and geographical extremes.” Should no one bother reading Lord Byron, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Jane Austen, or William Blake, all authors listed in the syllabus?

Sure, your list of recommended courses (“Econ. Latin. Great Books. Con Law. Plato. Austen. Milton. Dante. Nietzsche.”) is a great start for someone entering college. But why not supplement the study of canonical literature and social thought with courses that broaden your horizons? If you’re not careful, the above list might mean only reading words and works by white people. Do you really think white people are the only ones with valuable contributions to intellectual, social, and political history?

Hopefully you were just kidding and I’ve wasted my breath.

A few exciting updates:

  • My collection of poems entitled “Short-Shorts” was named a semi-finalist in the Gazing Grain Press Feminist Poetry Chapbook contest. I’d been feeling insecure about the work–it’s the most unusual thing I’ve ever written–but now that the collection of prose poems/flash nonfiction (or whatever you want to call it) has been honored in this way, I’m excited to keep sending it out. More information on the winners and the Press here.
  • I’ve become a contributor to the Washington City Paper. You can read my latest book review, about a former Washington Post reporter who covered D.C.’s crack epidemic while himself addicted to crack. This review is probably the first and last time I’ll ever get paid for a piece containing the words “blow job” (you’ll have to read the whole thing to find that), but an excerpt is below:

A new memoir by former WashingtonPost reporter Ruben Castaneda replays some of the lowest points in D.C.’s recent history: a time in the 1990s when cops couldn’t seem to do anything about gun violence, when drug-related turf wars led to scores of innocent victims and intimidation killings of witnesses, when my neighborhood of Edgewood was known as “Little Beirut,” and when some children in particularly stricken neighborhoods avoided gunfire by sleeping on mattresses on the floor.

Expect more from me in the City Paper over the next couple of months, and hopefully I’ll have more good news to share on the essay/poem front.

xo,

TP

That whole “shit X people say” meme trend has come and gone, but I just found some hand-written notes I must have written at some point in 2012 when I was still living in Crown Heights, Brooklyn.

Here’s my own attempt at “Shit People in Crown Heights Say:”

  • “Goddamn it car alarms”
  • “I love you Queens but the G train is just not a real train”
  • “You’re in the Bronx? Uh, I just assumed the Brooklyn Botanical Garden”
  • “Take the 3 to the S to the B/Q” (a la this SNL skit about Los Angeles freeways!)
  • “I’ll just double park on Bedford Ave. while you run in”
  • “Fucking dog shit everywhere when it snows”
  • “Are you really eating a fish sandwich on the B44 bus?”
  • “No free Jehovah’s Witness bible, thanks though”
  • “Are you Jewish?” “Yes, but no thanks”
  • “I’ll take four doubles with extra tamarind sauce”
  • “Our mouse lives behind the stove”
  • “Do you use T-Mobile or Metro PCS?”

Not even sure these are relevant anymore as the neighborhood has fully gentrified, as evidenced by the presence of a STARBUCKS.

come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed

Lucille Clifton, 1936-2010

I heard this quote last night during a performance by Carlos Parada Ayala at this amazing event. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

A Facebook friend who’d moved to the U.S. from St. Petersburg in his thirties recently posted a frustrated status update in which he complained about a younger writer. This writer had immigrated from Russia as a child, and now wrote an overwrought (in my friend’s opinion) essay about her conflicted identity. His basic point was that since she’d grown up in America, she was essentially American. Her memories of the old country were childish and vague or, perhaps, even second-hand, based on photographs and stories. Not only did she speak English without an accent, she was more comfortable expressing herself in English than in her first language. The only experience of adulthood she’d had was an American experience. Most importantly, Americans didn’t perceive her as “other.” Because of this, my friend said, her identity issues, if not entirely made up for the sake of her readers, were greatly exaggerated. She didn’t face the daily oppression of being treated like a foreigner, of having to distinguish herself from a stereotype that rose like a wall in people’s minds whenever they heard accented speech. She didn’t experience the difficulty of navigating around cultural knowledge gaps that persisted in older immigrants long after they mastered the vernacular of everyday life. So why, my friend wondered, why was she being such drama queen about the difficulty of her bifurcated identity? My friend found it unseemly. Nabokov, he argued, had never made a peep about his identity troubles.

Above quote from Anya Ulinich, in her introduction to Karolina Waclawiak’s novel How to Get Into the Twin Palms (bolding my own).

If her friend is right, I guess I should just stop writing. All my stuff is about complicated identities, but as an American-born daughter of Soviet immigrants, I suppose I have no real reasons to feel such complications. LOL.

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