I started Teach for America Institute in New York City yesterday. We're at St. John's University in Queens, which is housed in a gorgeous, tree-lined campus, with catered food and huge apartment-style dorms. It's in a great location - close to Flushing (for the necessary Asian groceries), and a subway ride away from Manhattan.
One observation I've made though, is that this is exactly like freshman year of college. Seriously, everything about it is just like college, from our environment (obviously) to social interactions. Here are some examples:
Dining:
You only eat with your hallmates (or suitemates), and ignore everyone else when you get to the cafeteria. You knock on most doors to invite people to come to dinner, because you all want to be friends. However, when you get to the cafeteria, you sit in your groups and never really start conversations with other people around you.
Going out:
We wanted to go out last night, but didn't know where to go, so we asked around. Eventually, we followed people who had already been here before, and they took us to a bar, which we realized was far too busy and crowded. Does this remind you of frat parties freshman year and how we'd always follow the 'cool' guy who had a brother who knows someone in the frat?
Social interactions:
They still start off really superficial; we talk about sports and movies and cars and stupid things you did in college, just like you probably did with your freshman year hallmates. We travel in packs of 20, just like we did freshman year. There's always some dude trying to hit on some chick, just like any given day in college.
Learning:
We sit in classrooms and are talked at by teachers who are training us. They keep going on until, just like in any college class, we fall asleep. Naturally, just like freshman year, we sit as far back as we can, and make snide comments about things our advisors say.
It's just like college! I guess it's just how people are. These things do reflect our tendencies as human beings - to be careful and shielded at first; to want to feel secure; to want others to like you. It's just funny, how I said that I really wanted to get out of college mode and wanted to grow up, and at teacher training, this is exactly what it's like. I'm not complaining - I love it here. The people are great and we're clearly working toward one common purpose, but it's just funny how you leave something, and a few weeks later, it just seems like you've never really left it.
One big difference between this place and college though, is the amount of times you're asked to reflect on your feelings and emotions. College professors just give you information, argue their opinions, and then expect you to process all that yourself. Here, we're given vision upon vision, statistic after statistic, and after each one, are asked how we felt. The first time around, it's very effective and probably a good thing - we learn to be vulnerable and open to our emotions, thus understanding why we were doing the work we're doing, and preparing us emotionally to cope with the challenges that lie ahead. The second time around, it probably reinforces our understanding, underline our commitment and further motivates us to do well. After that, however, it just gets old. We're asked to journal about our feelings after every little story and every statistic. While there are many heartwarming - and heartbreaking - stories, and many more heartbreaking statistics, I'm sure they know that we're only here because we're committed and motivated. They really don't need to motivate us anymore, because that's the only reason we're here getting five hours of sleep a night and waking up at 5 am every morning. I wrote in my last post about how excited I am to do this work, and how the saddening reality of public education is inspiring me to make a difference, but it seems like they think we're not inspired enough. For the past seven days, we've heard the same stories, the same statistics, and the same motivational mottos and buzz words. I think I've heard the word 'relentlessly' and 'achievement' about a thousand times this week. We're here because we were inspired, and talking about the problem for seven days won't change anything. We need to get down and do something about it, and THAT, is what I'm excited to do.
I guess college really never ends - every new place you go to may remind you of the awkwardness, the nervous anticipation, and the social dynamics of college again, but that's okay. It's what you do about it that matters. It's whether you continue to let it be like freshman year, or do you actually grow up, take responsibility, and learn how to be a successful college student, graduate student, or member of the workforce. Maybe thinking about your feelings will help - in fact, you should do it. But there really is only so much thinking you can do before you actually roll your sleeves up and make a difference.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Rising from the Ashes
Detroit's city motto is "Speramus Meliora; Resurget Cineribus," which means "we hope for better things; it shall rise from the ashes."
I started Induction at Teach for America - Detroit this morning, and quite frankly, I was inspired. Detroit's motto is very fitting, given its circumstances. The city desperately needs hope, but the people I've met today from all around Detroit gives me confidence that it will indeed rise from the ashes. Over the past forty years, Detroit has lost around 50% of its population, and most of the residents that remain are poor and unemployed. 47% of adults in Detroit are illiterate, and Detroit Public Schools has a drop out rate of 43%. To think that half of a city's adult population can't read above third-grade level? That's not only heartbreaking, but it suggests a desperate need for reform of our education system.
I've been asked by close friends why I decided to join Teach for America, and why I would choose to work in an inner-city school, when I could make a bigger difference reforming educational policy on a national scale. What I've learned today confirms this decision, and reflects the reality - the state of despair - of our nation's schools. There is no doubt that reforming policy would make a much larger impact, and would change many lives in one broad stroke, but I learned today that there is no substitute for grassroots-level work. There is absolutely no substitute for teachers who will show students the love they deserve; there is no substitute for mentors who will counsel these students through testing times; there is indeed no better way for students to learn than to have teachers guide them along, side by side. There are so many teachers who just don't care, and so many teachers who ignore the students' best interests, that even if we reformed policies, nothing would change on the ground.
And you know what? We've tried so many ways to reform our education system, but our schools are only getting worse. While our best schools are continuing to get better, and one middle school in Detroit is left with two teachers for 200 students. This is something truly wrong with this picture. In the most recent Michigan achievement tests, 99.3% of 9th Grade Social Studies students in Gross Pointe, MI (just east of Detroit) met state standards, while only 42.2% of Detroit students did. If this doesn't highlight the steep inequalities inherent in our system, what does? Is it really fair for affluent public schools to get iPads, when others don't even get a library, let alone computers? This ain't right. So, if no one else will help Detroit, it's just going to have to stand up on its own. And it will.
The people I met today are some of the most amazing people I've met. I came in apprehensive, not really knowing what I was getting into, but I was proved wrong. Even though Induction did seem a little bit like college - we hung out in groups of 20, and people all went out to the bars for late-night drinking - the people here have had such different life experiences and stories. One of our corps members served in the Michigan House of Representatives for 4 years, the Michigan Senate for 8 years, and is now part of Teach for America. Many of already had extensive teaching experience, some fought to close brothels in their hometown, one helped repair homes in the Appalachians, and others just simply have a heart to serve those who need it the most. From the conversations I've had, it's clear that people are raring to go; they speak with passion their love for kids, their anger toward injustice, and their excitement for the future. The people here in Detroit, too, are absolutely amazing. The teachers we've met, the community organizers, our tour guide, everyone. They all love this city, and all are committed to sacrifice their time and money to help revive it. They are working relentlessly to restore Detroit to its glory days fifty years ago. Everyone in the room, and indeed in Detroit, has a flame burning in their hearts, and hearing these heartbreaking statistics, who wouldn't? Many of these people have lived it; they've seen front and center how gang violence can impact families, how drugs ruins lives, and how broken families break childrens' hearts. They know what it's like, and that's why they're here to make sure the next generation doesn't have to go through all that.
Detroit was recently called "a national disgrace." Despite its abandoned houses, burned-down buildings, and cries for help, it is beautiful. Downtown is full of history and architectural brilliance, and other areas are so full of energy and culture. Most importantly, there is an undying sense of hope. Detroiters all believe that their city will once again be great. They know that with hard work, with faith, and with partnership, there is yet a bright future.
Going into an inner-city school to teach scares me. I'm going to teach a hundred kids whose futures - to an extent - depend on the successes and failures of my instruction. I'm going to be the only Asian. I'm going to be young. I don't want to screw up. Despite all this though, I look forward to this year with excitement. I have faith that if God put me here, I'm here for a purpose. I'm going to have to learn to not care about what my students think of me. I'm going to have to learn to discipline others. I'm going to have to learn to accept criticism, and embrace differences. But this is all a part of growing up. I'm so excited to be part of this movement that will make a difference; it's going to be a long, hard journey, but in the end, it's all going to be worth it. I do know that with God's help and guidance, with the perseverance and passion of the people of Detroit, it will, once again, rise up from the ashes.
I started Induction at Teach for America - Detroit this morning, and quite frankly, I was inspired. Detroit's motto is very fitting, given its circumstances. The city desperately needs hope, but the people I've met today from all around Detroit gives me confidence that it will indeed rise from the ashes. Over the past forty years, Detroit has lost around 50% of its population, and most of the residents that remain are poor and unemployed. 47% of adults in Detroit are illiterate, and Detroit Public Schools has a drop out rate of 43%. To think that half of a city's adult population can't read above third-grade level? That's not only heartbreaking, but it suggests a desperate need for reform of our education system.
I've been asked by close friends why I decided to join Teach for America, and why I would choose to work in an inner-city school, when I could make a bigger difference reforming educational policy on a national scale. What I've learned today confirms this decision, and reflects the reality - the state of despair - of our nation's schools. There is no doubt that reforming policy would make a much larger impact, and would change many lives in one broad stroke, but I learned today that there is no substitute for grassroots-level work. There is absolutely no substitute for teachers who will show students the love they deserve; there is no substitute for mentors who will counsel these students through testing times; there is indeed no better way for students to learn than to have teachers guide them along, side by side. There are so many teachers who just don't care, and so many teachers who ignore the students' best interests, that even if we reformed policies, nothing would change on the ground.
And you know what? We've tried so many ways to reform our education system, but our schools are only getting worse. While our best schools are continuing to get better, and one middle school in Detroit is left with two teachers for 200 students. This is something truly wrong with this picture. In the most recent Michigan achievement tests, 99.3% of 9th Grade Social Studies students in Gross Pointe, MI (just east of Detroit) met state standards, while only 42.2% of Detroit students did. If this doesn't highlight the steep inequalities inherent in our system, what does? Is it really fair for affluent public schools to get iPads, when others don't even get a library, let alone computers? This ain't right. So, if no one else will help Detroit, it's just going to have to stand up on its own. And it will.
The people I met today are some of the most amazing people I've met. I came in apprehensive, not really knowing what I was getting into, but I was proved wrong. Even though Induction did seem a little bit like college - we hung out in groups of 20, and people all went out to the bars for late-night drinking - the people here have had such different life experiences and stories. One of our corps members served in the Michigan House of Representatives for 4 years, the Michigan Senate for 8 years, and is now part of Teach for America. Many of already had extensive teaching experience, some fought to close brothels in their hometown, one helped repair homes in the Appalachians, and others just simply have a heart to serve those who need it the most. From the conversations I've had, it's clear that people are raring to go; they speak with passion their love for kids, their anger toward injustice, and their excitement for the future. The people here in Detroit, too, are absolutely amazing. The teachers we've met, the community organizers, our tour guide, everyone. They all love this city, and all are committed to sacrifice their time and money to help revive it. They are working relentlessly to restore Detroit to its glory days fifty years ago. Everyone in the room, and indeed in Detroit, has a flame burning in their hearts, and hearing these heartbreaking statistics, who wouldn't? Many of these people have lived it; they've seen front and center how gang violence can impact families, how drugs ruins lives, and how broken families break childrens' hearts. They know what it's like, and that's why they're here to make sure the next generation doesn't have to go through all that.
Detroit was recently called "a national disgrace." Despite its abandoned houses, burned-down buildings, and cries for help, it is beautiful. Downtown is full of history and architectural brilliance, and other areas are so full of energy and culture. Most importantly, there is an undying sense of hope. Detroiters all believe that their city will once again be great. They know that with hard work, with faith, and with partnership, there is yet a bright future.
Going into an inner-city school to teach scares me. I'm going to teach a hundred kids whose futures - to an extent - depend on the successes and failures of my instruction. I'm going to be the only Asian. I'm going to be young. I don't want to screw up. Despite all this though, I look forward to this year with excitement. I have faith that if God put me here, I'm here for a purpose. I'm going to have to learn to not care about what my students think of me. I'm going to have to learn to discipline others. I'm going to have to learn to accept criticism, and embrace differences. But this is all a part of growing up. I'm so excited to be part of this movement that will make a difference; it's going to be a long, hard journey, but in the end, it's all going to be worth it. I do know that with God's help and guidance, with the perseverance and passion of the people of Detroit, it will, once again, rise up from the ashes.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Standing Up and Believing
"I will never forget that the only reason I'm standing here today is because somebody, somewhere stood up for me when it was risky. Stood up when it was hard. Stood up when it wasn't popular. And because that somebody stood up, a few more stood up. And then a few thousand stood up. And then a few million stood up. And standing up, with courage and clear purpose, they somehow managed to change the world."
Just over a month into the summer after graduating from college, I'm sitting on my couch, watching TV, eating a lot of junk, and waiting for real life to begin. In fact, this is when life is at its easiest - there are few worries, hardly any big decisions to make, and more time than is needed. Of course, that's what you think, until you realize that college is behind you, and a new - and much more difficult - chapter of your life is starting to write itself. The question to ask yourself, then, is do you really want this brand new chapter to start with laziness, aimlessness and obesity? Probably not. A chapter begins with a purpose; it sets out to achieve a set of goals somewhere down the line, and proposes how these goals might just be achieved.
Sometimes, we ask God why we're here. Whether you believe in God or not, and whichever god you believe in, we've all asked that question. We ask - and soon enough, demand - for a clear sign of our calling; we want to understand our purpose, a meaning for which we live. We then realize that we can use our lives to make a difference - wherever we may be from, whatever the color of our skin, our gender, or our belief systems, we are convicted to change something around us that just doesn't look right. Indeed, this is purpose for which I believe we are living; we are to make a difference in this broken world. Making a difference doesn't mean you have to work in a third-world country, become a pastor, or sit in the Oval Office. We all make a difference in our own ways - we are all given gifts with which we can change a few little things in the world, and together, combine our efforts to create a better world for generations to come. We make a difference by inventing the latest computer, discovering the newest medicine, building the safest buildings, and for many, simply showing their own children the love they so deserve.
Making a difference isn't easy, and sometimes, sitting on the couch, watching TV and eating just sounds like a better idea. But change takes time, and it takes a lot of perseverance. It requires one to stand up for what they believe in - to profess their values and their vision in the face of doubt and opposition. It also requires faith - the "confidence in what we hope for and an assurance for what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1). Nothing will ever happen if we don't stand up for what we believe is right, and we will never make a difference if we don't believe we can. It's not going to be easy, but I realized that it's just part of growing up. Growing up means taking life seriously. It's not a joke anymore, but things are real - with real consequences. It's time to take a stand, and hopefully this is a journey that I can look back on knowing that I will have made a difference. We'll see, I guess.
Barack Obama
44th President of the United States
**********
Just over a month into the summer after graduating from college, I'm sitting on my couch, watching TV, eating a lot of junk, and waiting for real life to begin. In fact, this is when life is at its easiest - there are few worries, hardly any big decisions to make, and more time than is needed. Of course, that's what you think, until you realize that college is behind you, and a new - and much more difficult - chapter of your life is starting to write itself. The question to ask yourself, then, is do you really want this brand new chapter to start with laziness, aimlessness and obesity? Probably not. A chapter begins with a purpose; it sets out to achieve a set of goals somewhere down the line, and proposes how these goals might just be achieved.
Sometimes, we ask God why we're here. Whether you believe in God or not, and whichever god you believe in, we've all asked that question. We ask - and soon enough, demand - for a clear sign of our calling; we want to understand our purpose, a meaning for which we live. We then realize that we can use our lives to make a difference - wherever we may be from, whatever the color of our skin, our gender, or our belief systems, we are convicted to change something around us that just doesn't look right. Indeed, this is purpose for which I believe we are living; we are to make a difference in this broken world. Making a difference doesn't mean you have to work in a third-world country, become a pastor, or sit in the Oval Office. We all make a difference in our own ways - we are all given gifts with which we can change a few little things in the world, and together, combine our efforts to create a better world for generations to come. We make a difference by inventing the latest computer, discovering the newest medicine, building the safest buildings, and for many, simply showing their own children the love they so deserve.
Making a difference isn't easy, and sometimes, sitting on the couch, watching TV and eating just sounds like a better idea. But change takes time, and it takes a lot of perseverance. It requires one to stand up for what they believe in - to profess their values and their vision in the face of doubt and opposition. It also requires faith - the "confidence in what we hope for and an assurance for what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1). Nothing will ever happen if we don't stand up for what we believe is right, and we will never make a difference if we don't believe we can. It's not going to be easy, but I realized that it's just part of growing up. Growing up means taking life seriously. It's not a joke anymore, but things are real - with real consequences. It's time to take a stand, and hopefully this is a journey that I can look back on knowing that I will have made a difference. We'll see, I guess.
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