Lame orientation stuff and interesting speakers

So a lot of this week has been kinda lame and filled with meta-discourse, instead of anything really substantive—our real training starts on Monday, and this week is organized more like an orientation week, or a week-long pep talk of “You guys can do this, guys, you really can, you’re gonna be GREAT!” Which is nice every now and then for say, twenty minutes, but a week seems like a bit much—especially when we’re only just starting, and we’re all full of greenie fire. This might be nice a couple weeks from now when we’re all hating life—but such is life.

I’ve met some really interesting and cool people—the other day I met an anthropology major from Stanford named Katy with whom I had a really long and interesting discussion about Mormonism, as she had had a friend who was a church member. I’ve had a few other cool religious discussions with folks here—they seem to come up when I tell people I studied at BYU. I dig philosophical and interesting discussions with interesting thinkers.

We’ve had a few interesting speakers, too—the other day Wendy Kopp, the founder of Teach For America, came to speak with us. I was curious how realistic or idealistic she’d be, and in my opinion she was a combination of both—glossing over some realities with idealism (in my opinion), but addressing others quite realistically. A personal question that took shape in my mind while she was answering questions, but which did so late enough in the question-and-answer session that I didn’t think there would be time for it to be answered if I asked it, which mainly was related to the debate of how much one should grow and expand a program vs. how much one should perfect one’s product or service before growing. It’s the same issue I had with João’s approach to the Family Preservation Program, on a certain level—he wanted to grow and spread the program pretty far and wide before we had even seen it finished in our first community, or in other words, before really being sure it’s successful or not. That really scared me, and after reading some stats the other day, I began to have the same concern about Teach For America—that it had focused on growing before really figuring out what it was doing. That is, up until very recently, only 5% (in New York City) to 13% (in the U.S. as a whole) of corps members were making “significant gains” with their kids (that is, reaching TFA’s goal, which is 1.5 years of progress in literacy and 80% comprehension of math skills), which is very, very frighteningly low. Those numbers are growing, have already grown significantly and look to be growing more each year as TFA gets their act together and learns better what they should do and how they should do it, but the question that was really bothering me was, What about the kids who are being taught by those teachers that aren’t making significant gains, in those “learning years” when the curriculum was being (and is still being) perfected? Are they being underserved? Is that just considered a necessary sacrifice for the learning curve, or what is Teach For America’s (or Wendy Kopp’s) thoughts on that?

My instinct has always been to do as much prep as possible to avoid that kind of dilemma, and I was curious to hear what Wendy Kopp thought about it—when I realized I probably wasn’t going to get a chance to hear an answer, I started thinking more about what I thought about it, because I still wasn’t quite sure. As I thought about it, I figured that the way I would do things, according to what I think and feel and know now, would be to try to perfect a program with a small population over time, staying with that population until the program had learned to serve them well. Then, when it is proven effective there, export it to a few more, and test its effectiveness in those communities, and then, when it is proven universally effective, export it everywhere. That may seem overly cautious, but in doing anything different, I would really be worried about denying the participants the full benefits of the program.

Within Teach For America’s model, I could understand their logic in their growth and such, and how within a few years nearly all teachers will be making significant gains if current trends continue, but my concern still remains, in the process of learning how to do things right, are we messing up any kids? I feel personally committed to make sure I don’t do that, but it doesn’t seem morally responsible for that to just be acceptable damage within the movement.

Even cooler than Wendy Kopp, today we had one amazing guest speaker—his name was Geoffrey Canada, and he’s the founder of the Harlem Children’s Zone, a controversial and fascinating project that combines urban reform and small-scale universal health care with charter school-type teaching in a particular geographic area in Harlem (there's a really interesting article on him available here). And he was amazing—so much of what he said resonated so strongly with me. When he was getting ready to finish his remarks, I wanted to leap to my feet as soon as he was done, and was hoping others would rise, too—I smiled so wide when, right after he finished, the entire auditorium jumped to its feet. This man personified the type of social change agent that I want to be.

Above all, what really resonated with me was what he said about boys, and about the particular challenges facing boys. Without apologies or exceptions, he condemned the evil effect of media, especially on boys, which until age 10 does little more than encourage violence and materialism, and which from age 10 on pushes little more than sex. He condemned the system and the cultural environment that teach boys that getting laid is more important than going to college. He condemned the infantalization of men, especially men of color, in modern American society, and I felt like shouting amen after nearly everything he said. To see someone come and speak out about the truth of that, in a way that most these days would seem to brush off as Religious Right rhetoric, to an auditorium of kids straight out of college who playfully enjoy a lot of what he’s condemning, and to see him get a standing ovation because of how powerfully and irrefutably he spoke, was amazing to me. It gave me a little more gumption to stand up for what I believe, morally speaking, even when in a social situation like this where saying I don’t believe in premarital sex or drinking or drug use might not seem too kosher. I don’t plan on wearing my religion on my sleeve—I don’t think I’ve ever really done that. But I have at times caught myself letting moments pass by where I could thoughtfully express my opinion because I didn’t want to be preachy or didactic—even though I know that I could express myself without being either of those, that thought becomes an easy excuse to let things go unsaid. To see a man do that so powerfully and beautifully helped me get a little more backbone, I think. This is something I’ve been thinking about a fair amount these last few days, as it’s been a while since I’ve been someplace where I’ve not had numerous members of my own faith around, and I think I’ve gotten a bit rusty in terms of how to act when I’ve become again the odd one out. It was powerful to see someone who has worked that out so beautifully.

I think a large part of what impressed me about Geoffrey Canada is that he framed the achievement gap in schools and the lack of economic and social opportunities in poor communities as a moral issue, one that can be preached against with a religious fervor (which he did, amazingly well—I wondered if he’s a member of an evangelical church, because the man can preach). That is how issues of economic and educational inequality have always been framed in my mind—religious conviction, the moral obligation I have towards my brothers and sisters, is a very, very large part of what drives me to be here doing what I’m doing. It’s a thrill to hear someone passionately profess what you feel so strongly in your heart.

At the end of his remarks he read a poem he had written, which I love, and which I found on the all-knowing internet—here it is:

Maybe before we didn’t know,

That Corey is afraid to go

To school, the store, to roller skate.

He cries a lot for a boy of eight.

But now we know each day its true

That other girls and boys cry too.

They cry for us to lend a hand.

Time for us to take a stand.

And little Maria’s window screens

Keeps out flies and other things.

But she knows to duck her head,

When she prays each night ‘fore bed.

Because in the window comes some things

That shatter little children-dreams.

For some, the hourglass is out of sand.

Time for us to take a stand.

And Charlie’s deepest, secret wishes,

Is someone to smother him with kisses

And squeeze and hug him tight, so tight,

While he pretends to put up a fight.

Or at least someone to be at home,

Who misses him, he’s so alone.

Who allowed this child-forsaken land?

Look in the mirror and take a stand.

And on the Sabbath, when we pray,

To our God we often say,

“Oh Jesus, Mohammed, Abraham,

I come to better understand,

How to learn to love and give,

And live the life you taught to live.”

In faith we must join hand in hand.

Suffer the children? Take the stand!

And tonight, some child will go to bed,

No food, no place to lay their head.

No hand to hold, no lap to sit,

To give slobbery kisses, from slobbery lips.

So you and I we must succeed

In this crusade, this holy deed,

To say to the children in this land:

Have hope. We’re here. We take a stand!