Friday, August 5, 2011

Final Journal

I think I should get an A because I came prepared for class each day and participated. My group stimulated a tense, but useful discussion around the politics of inclusion in classrooms and we fostered some deep reflection in the group. I think everyone in my book club did the reading and was invested in thinking about what information needed to be covered before bringing Persepolis into the classroom.

I've been thinking a lot about how to present white privilege to suburban teens who are struggling with issues like drug and alcohol abuse as well as others. I think the struggles of the students might make them more reluctant to hear about privilege. I also have been thinking about how bringing dark texts into the classroom will effect those students. I am hearing extremely mixed opinions about whether or not it is a good or bad idea to present really dark, nihilistic texts to students who might already have nihilistic thought structures about the world.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

8-4-11

I remember reading House on Mango Street my freshman year and finding it incredibly effective. Although the characters described in Sandra Cisneros's novel come from different neighborhoods, families, and cultures than I do, I still found myself compelled and invested in the literature because I could relate to it despite my lack of certain cultural capital. Similarly, in college, I read Morrison's Beloved in my Black Women Writer's class and fell in love with her wisdom and writing despite having incredibly different experiences as a person.

What struck me about both texts was the poeticism in the writing; how the feelings of the novel bled through the typeface and onto my hands holding the book and stuck to me, even after I put them down. It does not matter that I am not Latina or Black. I am a woman, I come from communities, I've suffered loss, and I have grown up. These are the things that connected me to the texts. What does matter is that I recognized that these authors and characters were Latina and Black. It created a sense of global understanding for me. As a high schooler, it made me realize how, essentially, everyone has difficulty with their home communities. The differences in my difficulties from the protagonist provided me with an insight into how familial and community relationships can function (or not) outside of my own experience and understanding.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

8-3-11

The thing that struck me most about Morrison's introduction is the feeling she captures of seeing yourself represented through art. The feeling I get to Rufus Wainwright croon about his queer understanding of love, heartbreak, and home is similar to the novel's description of what the Black character experiences listening to Louie Armstrong. The representational practices of identity and the politics of the self are complicated and it takes a long time for individuals to cope with this idea. Am I compelled towards Queer literature, film, and theory because I think its fascinating, well yes. But I am more so compelled because I am Queer. I also love and am fascinated by other cultures' canons, but there is inherently less at stake for me as an individual reading those texts. I don't just mean obvious differences, I mean Southern texts, or war narrative texts, etc.
The implied literary Blackness and Whiteness that Morrison describes is also incredibly interesting to me and something that I view through my lens as well. It is obvious to me reading Dorian Gray that Basil is a gay man. It is not explicitly stated in the text, but I just know. I have a cultural currency in this text that other readers might not have. Just like, I just know that Martha in Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolfe is really a gay man bickering with his partner.
When texts through us for a loop- the Giovanni's Room, or Dumbledore effect- it can be shocking as a reader to encounter.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

8-2-11

I was born in America and am an American citizen. Growing up, I had a lot of pride for America in elementary school whenever we would discuss events like the Civil War (being from the Land of Lincoln, this was a very proud point), World War I, and World War II. I grew up in the nineties and thought that America was the best country in the world for a long time. But, then I got to high school. I started learning about our darker past that had been hidden from me as an elementary student. I learned about how America actually knew about Concentration Camps in Germany and chose not to enter the war at the point, institutionalized racism, became politicized, realized how corrupt many of our systems as a country were, and realized that I was gay- and, therefore, a kind of outsider in my own country.
I was, to say the least, a little disenfranchized. I resented my country a little bit. But, as I ventured into college, I decided that this was a healthy response. I spent a great deal of time researching Weimar, Germany, Berlin, Christopher Isherwood, the politics of adaptation, the Holocaust, the history of the pink triangle, and the rise of Nazism. I came away with the conclusion that blind nationalism is one of the singularly most terrifying things in the world. When I see people waving the Confederate flag, feel bad for them.

Monday, August 1, 2011

back post: post #2

I was born and raised outside of Chicago, so I don't identify with traditional MN culture. I'm not Swedish, I've not eaten lye soaked fish, nor have I ever seen a moose. I had a Chicago accent which is now fading into non-descript Midwestern. I was raised Catholic, so I can recognize most biblical references in texts, but like REM, I've lost my religion.
I am a white person and my students identify me as German because of what I say when they sneeze. "Gesundheit" means "good health" and I think it is a nice sentiment. Also, I don't really like saying "bless you" because of the religious connotations. Once I was telling my students a story about a good friend of mine, a devout Jew, and one of my students interrupted me asking if I was "German, right?"
Apparently, the student thought that Germans and Jews still could not be friends because of the Nazi persecution of Jews from the 20's, 30's, 40's, and beyond. I had to explain to him that not all Germans were Nazis and not all Nazis are Germans and how there were even German Jews. This was mind blowing to him.
Because I deal with "marginalized" or "alternative" populations, I have to be transparent. My students can smell a phony from a mile away and I want to be genuine with them. In this exchange, we find mutual respect.

August 1st

I accidentally deleted my Marigolds writing. But, process is more important than product as great men have said.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

7-28-11

Think of an instance where a student's cultural background and belief structure informed how they interacted with your classroom or a piece of literature you were teaching.

Oh, there are so many fun examples of this. Where to begin? I found that when I was teaching Frankenstein, students pulled religion and personal ethics into the text quite a bit. Students would say things like, "But, that's just the way God made him, God has a plan for everyone, etc." Students also felt strongly on either end of the "is it right for Victor to kill him" spectrum. Some students said yes, that he wasn't human and wanted to know if they could use the death penalty as a form of sentencing in their mock trial of The Creature v. V. Frankenstein (I said, "no"). Others said that it wasn't right to take somebody's life just because they didn't come out they way you had planned. These students often used God as an example. I found this really interesting because the Creature uses the analogy of being "an abortion," but none of my students ever delved into that topic. I did not press it on them, because I did not find it to be a beneficial discussion for our educational objectives in the unit.

After watching clips of the Brannagh Frankenstein, I had my classes vote on which actors they would cast to play the various characters in Frankenstein. When one student suggested Denzel Washington as the Monster, the students broke out in an uproar saying that Frankenstein couldn't be Black, and asking me if they could cast Black people in the roles. I said of course and asked them how casting a Black man as Frankenstein's monster with a white Victor would change the meaning of the story. What if it was a Black cast with the exception of the Monster? The students got really interested in how the actor changed the meaning of the text.

When I showed the film, Jurassic Park, my students commented on how the only two black actors on screen (one for only a few moments at the beginning) were doomed to die. They commented on the Hollywood trend of killing off black characters. Instead of dismissing this observation, I opened the topic up for discussion. I think this surprised a number of my students, because they didn't have much to say afterwards. I pushed by asking of examples of satire they had observed in other films and they talked about scenes from Scary Movie and Scream 4. The students seemed, not surprisingly, engaged that the classroom forum could be open to matters of import they experienced in their own lives.