Carmen Kynard is Lillian Radford Chair in Rhetoric and Composition at Texas Christian University. Her award-wining research, teaching, and scholarship interrogate anti-colonialism, Black feminist pedagogies, and Black cultures/languages.
I originally intended to stop/ write/ reflect for each of my past three days at the Black Education Congress. Yes, that was certainly the intention. But this language and this written form of the Word just got in the way. There were so many moments that touched me. I wouldn’t be able to define and chronicle those moments linearly even if I wanted to. This morning, I am left with one resonance that I am carrying with me. I expect new resonances to fill me in coming days and weeks so I will keep that discussion going here.
I realize today the weight of an experience that I seldom receive, an experience that maybe I have never had… being in a room filled with concentric circles, nested cyphers, filled with people of Afrikan descent who have the education and well-being of Black children first and foremost in their heart, mind, spirit. Just imagine it! It might sound simple, but how many times have you actually experienced THAT? I needed to stop today and realize that I am never in such a space and to also realize what that space-powerfulness has given me. I don’t mean the folk who are trying to usher black children into a middle class pseudo-bourgeoisie (I say pseudo because middle-classness means something completely different in this time, even though most folk don’t realize that.) I don’t mean THEM folk. These days I feel lucky if I can find a set of black colleagues, scattered across the country, who have a dynamic, critical vision for Black Education. And I am lucky if have a sista across campus who I can meet after our classes are over and just talk. Like I said… L-U-C-K-Y! I had them sistas-in-the-wings at Rutgers-Newark, for instance (given the history and spirit of Newark), but you had to sustain a whole lotta foolishness in your department first. And while I attend professional conferences and panels where I do meet such soul-sustaining folk, more often than not, most black folk are busy trying to be famous and/or network so that they can become famous. That’s the culture in which black youth must survive a hostile education and it is the culture in which we most often must fight to help them not merely survive but thrive.
I am thinking back to the opening night with the procession of elders punctuated by the opening words of Dr. Adelaide Sanford. This is what I mean by these words not allowing the weight and fullness of a Black Experience. Here is a video of the Queen Mother from a July 2013 talk in Philly:
As powerful as this video is, it does not begin to capture what it was like to be in that room that night at a circle with other black teachers and high school students (who were ENRAPTURED, by the way, of course!) And as powerful as this video is, it does not capture what it is like to be in Dr. Adelaide Sanford’s presence with black educators at your side. It is THAT feeling that I am carrying with me today and that I now take with me as I educate young people of color.
I once had to mediate a complaint against a teacher who failed a student’s paper because it was plagiarized. The student had lifted entire segments of each page from websites and the professor had a policy against this on his syllabus. The student insisted that the professor was actually implementing his policy only with her because he disagreed with her political beliefs. That’s a difficult thing to prove so she was out there on a limb with that one. Because she was contesting her final grade (she was insisting on an A and that a B+ was the lowest grade she could ever accept) and not the plagiarism, I had to read the plagiarized paper and her corpus of work (most often lifted from other sources). Her writing was stunningly weak, riddled with the most anti-black racism I have ever read from a college student, and strangely misinformed all at the same time. In one section of a paper, the student wrote a rather lengthy diatribe against affirmative action and used, as her evidence, that Columbia University’s undergraduate student population is 40% “black”…”Colored” is what she called them. She argued that Columbia had accepted all of these unqualified “Colored (i.e., black)” students over the white valedictorian of her class who was denied admission. I was confused, to say the least, and thought she meant a different Columbia than the ivy league institution housed in New York City. Columbia’s students are 40% black? When the hell did that happen and why ain’t I workin there? Thass that hotness right there. I did get excited for a minute when I read her words but then realized that I was being foolish for listening to such a foolish student. That just ain’t what Columbia has EVER looked like! She did have a (cut-and-pasted) section from Columbia’s website in her writing. The charts, graphs, and language did, in fact, show that Columbia was reporting 40% of its undergraduate student population to be OF COLOR (the majority population in that number is Asian). I was astounded that the student clearly did not understand and had never really seen the term “of color” before. She seemed to think it was referencing those old Colored Vs. White drinking fountains where “Colored” meant black. Her white male professor looks like the first person who actually confronted her ideas and writing ability and she saw him as a race traitor of the John Brown variety, insistent on lynching him! It would be funny if it weren’t so damn tragic. There are no surprises here though. This was a Christian, conservative white female at a Christian, conservative white-run college who had attended a Christian, conservative white high school. Imagine my surprise though to hear the exact same language from SOPHOMORE students of color at a “minority-serving” public college who attended predominantly Black and Latin@ public schools! They too had never heard the term “of color.” The same white political continuum operates in how they have been educated.
Here is Robin Kelley, a brilliant and acclaimed historian, talking to a group of students of color at an elite state university about being young people of color while my sophomore college students have mostly never heard of nor called themselves people of color before. I find myself growing more and more impatient with college faculty and systems who cannot seem to (or do not want to) grasp that young people of color need to have a sense of themselves in order to write themselves into being.
Like always, I had students say things like they don’t think they are or can ever be intellectuals because English is not their first language or because they have an accent. These are actual quotes from last week’s class. And, of course, I have students, young black women, who unpack a discussion after class rather than in class because they don’t think they have a voice that people will hear… they will just be cast as that loud black girl in the corner again. That’s a quote too. Despite my early onset of racial battle fatigue, I realize that I need to sharpen my critique on the privileging of decontextualized grammar instruction. I don’t centralize grammar instruction in my course so for many folk, this means that I do not teach it all. If I thought grammar would alleviate the social and educational injustices that my people face (or even impact the students of color who I have described here), I would do it all day long. But at what point in my people’s history did a grammar lesson ever resolve systemic oppression, institutional racism, and education inequality? I mean, really, who thinks this simplistically? If all black folk needed was a grammar lesson for equality and social mobility in education, don’t you think we woulda BIN done that? There is a real vile disrespect happening in this construct.
I am reminded these days that I must offer a discursive paradigm that communicates the historical weight of my students’ experiences, the dignity of their persons, and the political presence of the minds that no one has really allowed them to tap into. I need a critical discourse, no matter an audience’s limited capacities, of the linguistic needs of students who have internalized the kinds of racism that I am describing in this post, an internalization that has everything to do with how you understand and actualize yourself as a writer. I won’t relegate them to a separate water fountain by dumbing down my analysis of the spaces that marginalize them or only give them grammar instruction. Haven’t we already had enough Jim Crow classrooms and drank from enough Jim Crow water fountains??
I spent my weekend reading more than 60 essay drafts and another 60 website sketches/plans. By the time I got to J’s, I had really lost it and found myself emotional: a mixture of sadness and anger that I have not felt in quite a while…which always means I’m about to put clowns in CHECK! J is an AfroLatina who is perhaps one of the best storytellers I have ever encountered and yet she won’t speak in class because her anxiety about her “accent” paralyzes her. I. Mean. Physically. Paralyzes. Her. I should have used my course website to build more sound and multiple speaking voices there so she could HEAR herself and not just see herself. I know that now…I also know that the fierceness with which I will go AFTER and AT all the perpetuators of such debilitating spaces for students like J has been renewed.
For the first time in my teaching career, I have access to a computer lab. It simply was never possible before. My classes will only visit the lab three times in the semester (beginning, middle, and end) for design-work but I am just now incorporating this into my pedagogy. I am embarrassed to admit that this is the first time that I am understanding how significant the changes in pedagogy are based on the lay-out of a computer lab. I have read about these issues, for sure, but honestly, I ain’t read all that stuff closely. What I need to think about all of this for when my students’ university-supplied laptops die at the second year? Or what if we ain’t got no labs? Those texts didn’t relate to me and maybe I was hatin a little bit on them folks with resources. I shoulda been listening though.
So here is what I have worked with:
classrooms where all students have a laptop that they bring to class with them
a large lab with long rows and computer-station/screen at front
a medium-sized lab with concentric squares and computer-station/screen at front
a small lab with desks with the computer-station at the back of the room and the screen at front
no tech at all (very few students have laptops, there are no labs, and there is a long waitlist for a classroom with computer and screen).
By far, I like #4 the best though that spy-cam stuff could give the same effect (where you see what each student is doing on their computer screen on your own screen). I also like #1 for everyday classroom activities but when you are doing design or introducing CSS, there’s just something about those large, television-sized screens that really offer a unique dynamism.
Your whole body movements shift in these labs. For #1, you are sitting at small group tables with students. For #2, you are pacing rows after you demo some design issue but you can walk to the back of the room and get a sweeping, panoramic view of what everyone is doing. For #3, you are circling rows after you demo some design issue (there is no room at the back so you never get the panorama). For #4, you are hidden from view, only your design elements are visible to students. You offer highly individualized instruction because you can see what your students are struggling and hesitating with as you look on their screens during your demo. Each room lay-out offers different possibilities that I now need to think about before I select the lab location.
Click here to go to this digital interview.
All in all, my students’ CSS design so far is impressive. They still have some work to do and I did not teach things like left navigation hovering (I barely understand it myself), but all is good. There are ironies though. For the first time that I have this much ability to design my e-pedagogies, design is not really valued as composing, literacy, or thinking in the 21st century here. There are more ironies. I have many colleagues across the country where ePortfolios are mandated or saturated across the curriculum who often complain to me, quite bitterly at times, at how unthoughtful and uncritical their students’ visual design is. On the contrary, I asked my students to think of what they want to convey— just with color— in the context of a course that makes culturally relevant pedagogy central, and they soared with flying colors on that (pun intended). But hardly no one around them seems to see or value that as literate behavior or 21st century composing. It’s a damn shame. I’m not worried about students though because they are entering a digital world with a whole different set of expectations and requirements than the digitally-illiterate folk who marginalize them. To my students: keep flyin high. I see you!
Though I have had some reservations about ePortfolios, I am more turned off by the ways ePorts get used rather than with the actual ePortfolio technologies available. These platforms are already pre-packaged and pre-formatted so I am deeply disturbed when faculty create a master template where students (or staff) just input data. It amazes me that ePortfolios can become just another 5-paragraph formula so quickly. Here is what I mean by a template:
The box wrapped in a gray line is called the top navigation bar of an ePortfolio. You click on a word/item and then you get a series of corresponding ePages that have another series of left navigation options. What happens in many of the classrooms that I see is that teachers set the topics of the navigation bar to match the requirements of the department, state standards, etc. Students just load in their work, almost like sifting recyclables into the correct bin. While that kind of automated sifting is an important task for one’s daily household chores, it most certainly does not qualify as digital literacy or even LITERACY. For me, it is simply tragic that this sifting passes mustard for writing classrooms.
This sifting into digital templates is yet another kind of standardization and corporate cloning. That kind of ePortfolio robs students of even minimal levels of digital design in already pre-formatted platforms. The technology actually allows you to remove the line around the box, thicken it, shadow-box it, color it, round its ages, make buttons, add a background color, etc. You can do the same with the left navigation (click here for my own ePort as a sample). You can have multiple backgrounds in all of these spaces. The examples are so countless that you need an actual design plan. In fact, most websites start with a sketch, a practice that stirs significant conflict since far too many teachers do not see sketching as composing and writing. I am always so wonderfully surprised when I hear web designers talk about their design choices in the same way that an interior designer does. It makes sense since we are, in essence, designing a space. So if students are not allowed to think about any of these design elements for themselves, then can we really call their work an ePortfolio? I remain stunned that writing teachers do not think design has any part of literacy in the 21st century. While that fact alone is not shocking, such teaching practices are especially violent for students of color.
The images of smiling, happy students of color are masterfully manipulated in college marketing for every brochure, poster, and college webpage— images that, once again, are not controlled by people of color. The overall saturation of images in a multimedia era has not meant anything positive for people of color. When you do not control the resources, you certainly do not control how your image is portrayed. I am talking about decolonization here: what might it mean for people of color to (re)imagine their image inside of the violence of a visual/media culture that denies them this kind of self-determination? Self-determined visual cultures will be vital for digital literacies in the 21st century, all the more so given the stunning number of college teachers who use educational technologies to strip students of their own cultural-visual rhetorics.
Giving students control of their own visual image has meant that I have had to introduce a little CSS in my class. It’s not that difficult. While many of my rather crotchety colleagues might seem to think that the sole focus of college writing in the 21st century is grammar in print texts, I know better than to trust such systems and teachers. I am disappointed by how many remain intent on denying my students the REALEST and most basic of human rights/literacy in the 21st century… self-determination.