The Measurements -- Revised

Today, I left work after an hour of professional development (a series of classes run by one of the school's literacy coaches, math coaches or assistant principals) with a colleague that is 10 years younger than me. And that is cool. We got onto the train and he gave me a much clearer landscape to contemplate.

He knew the former profession of some of the other male teachers. There are only 5 in the whole school. The most organic of us used to be involved in heavy industry, building parts for large engineering feats, like damns and generators. He is very cool.

To hear this story from my colleague was a glimmer of hope concerning the types of conversations I could have with my colleagues, but also showed astuteness of the young 20-something. Sometimes I wonder what the ultimate end is to such astute observations. In America, I believe it is marginalization. You have to somehow buy into the consumerist ideology to benefit from it, or just sit on the sidelines. You gotta be in it to win it, that is for sure.

"He is a blue collar worker, so he comes in does his work and goes" the young teacher said.

I need to learn to take teaching in this manner, despite the age of the students, the level of the students, or the subject matter. And for a moment I had a flashback to some crazy discussion with academics and bibliophiles concerning that certain other "other" -- the worker.

I guess the tyranny of the well intentioned missionary -- may they be actual religious zealots or actual Marxist zealots -- never dies with white folk. The program I entered has a modus operandi and under-pinning that is the same as the Peace Corp in Africa except it is aimed at the inner city. And I guess in our quest to assimilate into the folds of American society, some of us black folk have replaced our own corneas with theirs. And in their quest to help, some liberal white folk can not forgive us for being successful or not falling into their idea of what collards/coloreds should be. In other words, to help is to be a black missionary in the great sea of white missionaries that have helped other minorities assimilate into American society. But to say that you don't need their help places everything on edge.

I wonder how long it will be before I see clearly. I am the only black male teacher in the school. I was the only black male in my publishing office 10 years ago. It just seems to be fate in someway.

Beyond the Blog

OK,

I have had a total change in latitude over the last couple of months. I now work in the South Bronx as an educator working specifically with the Latino and West African communities.

So, on top of the culture shock, the mistaken identities (a couple of people have called me Habibi in the bodegas that I have thought were Spanish, at other places people have not bothered to stop speaking Spanish to me), the graduate work (it is turning out to be a lot of busy work, observations, and self-reflecting . . . who knew that a formal education as a pedagogue would turn into a deep Freudian/Saussurean examination of self and signs) and moments of sheer exhaustion I have not been able to write a descent blog entry. In fact, I feel like my blogging brain cells have been rearranged yet again. I find myself asking the man in the mirror "What is blogging?" and "Are you a writer or an educator or a linguist?" Each time the clock is ticking very loudly and I have very little time to answer my own questions.

The other problem with my blogging is that I am too busy critiquing my own teaching style, or observations concerning a gigantic administration, that I have very little energy to switch voices and talk about all the other things that come and go in my life. Add in not having a computer, and navigating our country's medical system with a chronic disease and it is amazing that I have a second in my mind to write these lines.

So, let this be the announcement that I am back to talk about this stupid campaign schedule that has all the talking heads going crazy, but not much of anyone else in my circles. But damn, Obama has some big balls, he is going after Hillary like a preying mantis. Let this be the announcement that I am back to talk about Heroes, The Ultimate Fighter and Project Runway. Let this be the announcement that I am back to talk about my fight to conquer my bills, act like I am grown, get interested in the plight of (fill in the blank), and finish some work that I started.

First step. French tutor.
It happens once a week for 2 hours.
I forgot how complicated the verbs can really be.
It has never been more apparent that "tenses" and not just "words" can have different meanings too.

PS
I have many blogs to catch up on concerning reading.

Man!