29 April 2012

smart. pretty. subversive.

Whenever I wear my Columbia sweatshirt in public, the following conversation usually occurs:

Person: Did you really go to Columbia?
Me: Yes. 
Person: What were your SAT scores? 
Me: I don't remember. 
Person: (surprised) How can you not remember?
Me: I took them like 10 years ago. 
Person: Well do you have an idea?
Me: (blank face) ...

"Person" is always older white male whose son/daughter/niece/nephew/family friend didn't get into my alma mater, and they are clearly trying to figure out how this young black girl got in. (Answer: I'm really smart.) Abuse of white male privilege never okay (dudes straight up demand that I answer them because they are used to getting what they want all the time from everyone), I always walk away from these interactions feeling incredibly annoyed.

(And omg, you guys should see what happens when I tell the same folks that I have a Masters from UPenn and am getting a doctorate from NYU. The glazed over, 'does not compute' face is classic.) 

The only thing worse than this is when I am told that I 'don't look smart.' Funny, I wasn't aware that smart had a look. This line usually comes from guys who want to date me, so I take it that this is meant to be a compliment. I mean, attractiveness and intelligence are mutually exclusive... Like, duh. Totally... Not. I used to get really mad about this and blow up and tell the guy where he could go (usually up an unpleasant body part), but I'm over that. I'm also over being mad at the old white men who resume check me when I'm trying to buy groceries. Angry responses are typically helpless ones, and helpless is something that I definitely am not.

I recently had an epiphany: These types of situations are all about power. (Cue the Kanye.) The old man who demands my credentials and the lame dude who tells me I'm too pretty to be smart are just trying to assert their dominance by reminding me of my rightful social place. Because I'm pretty, I can't be smart. Because I'm black, I can't be an Ivy League graduate. And because I'm a woman, I have to take their alpha male bullshit with a smile on my face. And sometimes I do. Yes, you read that right. Sometimes, I let the poor soul keep going and I just smile and nod. Why? Because I have power, too!

Hear me out, k? There is sooo much power in letting people think that you are exactly what they already think you are, it is rather unbelievable. Just like the movie villain who monologues before the hero busts out some ninja moves and wins, people reveal a great deal about themselves when they don't feel threatened. Gathering information is the easy part. The key to the game is knowing how to use this information to your advantage. (This is where the "subversive" part comes in.) Listen hard, weed through the condescension, and pick out the things that will serve you in the future. I learned some great stuff about business and networking from ass of a boss who thought I was a complete moron and treated me as such. He clued me into things that I never would have known because he felt comfortable with me (and my moron-itude) to share a career's worth of tips. Even though I left the job in a blaze of glory (my resignation letter was written in a file entitled "peace peace suckas"), those informal lessons were truly invaluable.

It isn't always easy to swallow your pride and let people treat you as lower than the awesome person that you know you are, and I am certainly advocating neither playing dumb nor allowing yourself to be crapped on. These are bad, and do more harm than good, both personally and professionally. All I'm saying is that it can be rather useful to react strategically to situations such as those described above. When you sense that someone is attempting to assert their perceived dominance over you, fall back for a second and see if you can benefit from their arrogance. If you feel that you can't, then by all means, rip that jackass a new one! But if you can grab some gems before you blow up the mine, then do that first.

Knowledge is power, and when you learn how to use knowledge to gain power, you can be truly unstoppable. 

01 March 2012

buzzing words and catchy phrases.

In the early and mid 2000s, the "achievement gap" was the main focus of education reform. This phrase, commonly used to describe the differential outcomes between students of different racial groups, has since saturated the market and served as a rallying cry for reformers on both sides of the ideological aisle. On the surface, this seems like an appropriate place to focus energies (and monies), but dig a little deeper and the phrase becomes more than a little problematic.

The W. Bush administration created the term "achievement gap" around the time that No Child Left Behind (NCLB) was being pitched to the public. While data has shown a significant skills gap for decades (forever, really), up until this administration came to power, the issue was framed as an equity gap rather than an achievement gap. Indeed, one of my professors often points out that there is evidence that the W. Bush administration doctored pre-2000 documents to reflect this new language. (When I find the article, I'll link it!) Now this may not seem like an issue since the terms are describing the same phenomenon, it is more then just semantics. Here's why...

The concepts of 'achievement' and 'equity' are very different, and are thus tackled differently. The equity camp focuses on addressing the issues that cause the differential gains of students, such as more funding and resources for the low income areas that tend to educate the majority of students of color. The belief is that the problem can be solved with inputs, meaning things should be put into the school and community to (hopefully) fix them. The word achievement, however, focuses the mind more on the school: What is the school doing wrong so that this gap both exists and persists? Interventions, then, are more output based, meaning things are taken away from the school until it is fixed. Under NCLB, for example, schools were punished for not improving by the withdrawal of funding, the removal of electives in order to focus on "basic skills", and, eventually, the closure of the school.

See the difference? Same problem. Different words. Different solutions. But at lease we knew what was being discussed.

Right now, the Obama administration's educational buzzwords are "college and career ready." As part of Race to the Top (the reformed-yet-still-broken version of NCLB), it is the responsibility of schools to graduate students who are ready to either go to college or enter a career. Again, as we saw above, the concept seems rather obvious... and commonsense. How can I, a former high school guidance counselor, be arguing against this?? Here's how...

As a general goal, it is fine. As a mandate that is to be used as a marker for a successful school, it is rather problematic. And, given the vague political language of the official explanation, the phrase "college and career ready" begs quite a few questions. What type of college? Community? Four-year? Technical? Should students be prepared for any specific majors? (STEM is the push right now, but do humanities get credit, too?) If a student is prepared for college upon graduation but can't pay for it, does that still count as ready? And then the career piece... What careers should students be prepared to enter? Will a school be penalized for the lack of employment opportunities that face diploma-only applicants? How can schools achieve these goals in the limited curriculum allowed by high-stakes testing? Is this really education?

(I could go on, but I'm sure you get it.)

My point with this post is this: Words aren't just words. We all need to get in the habit of questioning these buzzwords and catchphrases, and do the work of understanding the meaning behind them. Education is far more politicized than most people realize, and no decisions are made without some sort of ideology driving them. Buzzwords and catchphrases are constructed with the sole purpose of being blindly digestible, and it is about time that we read the ingredients of what we are being fed.