the last hurrah

Our second to last weekend in the Delta, we went canoeing 18 miles down the Mississippi River. It’s the place of legends, of industry – yet almost completely ignored by people living in Mississippi. The Quapaw Canoe Company doesn’t do a rip-roaring trade in canoeing with the locals – it seems that only strange visitors like us wish to experience it. I discovered that the Mississippi is a strange beast, beautiful but savage, demanding sacrifice from anyone who ventures across its murky depths. (An attempt at) a poetic way of saying that I dropped my expensive camera in the river and it’s now beyond repair.

Looking back on my 8 weeks in the Delta, the camera is probably the only thing that I have actually lost. I have gained new friendships with the people I lived with – somehow being crammed in close quarters with a lot of people and fighting over whose turn it is to do the dishes does forge new bonds. I have gained teaching experience, and been tested again and again by my students; leading me to come away attracted by the idea of teaching again, yet convinced that I could never do it for the rest of my life. I have gained weight, courtesy of the fried food everywhere in the Delta (vegetarian options at a ‘traditional’ Mississippi joint include: fried onion rings, fried okra, french fries. Sometimes cole slaw, if you’re lucky). I have gained new Delta sayings, which my students took great delight in teaching me: “My guh” (translation: my girl) done with a fist pound, “What up luh” (translation: how are you doing, love?) done with a cocky chin up. I have gained a great amount of knowledge about the history of the Delta and its peoples. I have gained the conviction that the Delta is one of the neediest places in the USA (look up pretty much any statistic on schooling, poverty, obesity etc and MS will be top of the list) and that one university student can only do so much. And I have gained the motivation to one day come back.

On Race

Race. So visible, yet rarely mentioned. The history of the Delta is interwoven with, inextricably linked to, race. The slaves. The crippling poverty. The sharecroppers. The Confederate flag tucked away in the corner of the Mississippi flag, flying proud on every school’s flagpole. The schools that are still not desegregated in any way. The startling correlation between race and socio-economic status. I came to the Delta with certain ideas about race, delineated in black and white: that white people are inherently racist, that black people want change. I found instead only shades of grey, history and ideas and practices that are so enmeshed in the way of life that people seem incapable of moving away.

Take, for example, many of the white, well-off people that we encountered in the Delta. I met many of them because they were involved in some way with community service; dinners might be hosted at the house of a board member of our nonprofit. I met these people, and talked to them, and realized how unfair it was for me to be labeling them as content with the status quo. What did I want them to do – stage one-man protests on the main street? What would I do, in their situation? Would I send my child to the public school, where the issue is not just one of race but one of burnt-out teachers, violence, sub-par teaching standards? Would I move into the black part of town in protest, only to have my house become the target for robberies because people assumed that I was rich? I realized that these issues are so much more complex.

Blacks and whites in Mississippi inhabit completely different spheres. Every town that you visit in the Delta will have the old railroad tracks running through the town center. On one side of the railroad tracks is the black part of town, on the other side the white part. Literally – divided as with a ruler down the middle. In one small town where some of my friends worked, we decided to drive through the white part of town. Over the railroad tracks we went. There, the first house on the left – as if summoned, a little white kid ran out of a house. The houses were still small, the people were still poor, but everything was cleaner, bigger, better-off. The roads were not pothole-filled obstacle courses that you navigate at 5 miles an hour, gritting your teeth at every thud and scrape.

Oh, and then of course there were the looks we got as a group. We had two Hispanics, one Indian, four African Americans, and four Caucasians. We would walk into a restaurant, filled with its white clientele, and get quizzical looks. Then people would hear us speak, and realize that we weren’t from there, and then everything was all right somehow. With university students from a big city it can be understood; with locals, never. The funniest experiences I had were with my co-worker Jeremy, who is African American. We spent a lot of time together and did a lot of exploring in Greenville, the town we worked in. And him being a boy and me being a girl, everyone instantly assumed that we were together. Oh, the double-takes! We’d be sitting at the traffic lights and I’d look across to find the couple in the car next to us staring. In my 8 weeks in the Delta, I never saw a black and a white person sitting in a car together. The only time we experienced any overt unpleasantness was when we went to a very fancy (read: all-white) restaurant together. There was an older couple sitting across from us, and every time I looked over at them I was confronted by the woman’s glare. I would smile back pleasantly, and she’d lean over to her husband and start whispering something to him while staring at us. I was tempted to take Jeremy’s hand and start looking very intimate, just to see her reaction. I refrained, of course – but I like to think that she went home that night just the slightest bit outraged.

Southern hospitality

Apologies for the lateness of this post and the next two posts. It’s only when you encounter problems, say, with your internet that can’t easily be fixed that you realize just how far removed you are from the normal conveniences that a city life affords. I was living in a relatively large town by Mississippi Delta standards (population 12,000), but people just…move…so…slowly. My theory is that it’s a combination of the food – a huge lunch of fried everything puts you out the whole afternoon – and the sweltering heat (most days that we were there it was a heat index of about 105 degrees, with humidity of, I don’t know, 100%). So when it comes the time for your internet to get fixed, three weeks before you are leaving, expect the repairman to show up on….the third week. My mentor, who was Teach For America in the Delta and then stayed on as Executive Director of the nonprofit I was interning at, described one experience that she had with the man who came to repair her cable. He came three times, the first two times with the wrong equipment. The third time he spent all afternoon repairing the cable, but then insisted that she come home with him and enjoy some down home Southern cooking. You’ll find that the famed Southern hospitality, readily extended, is not so readily declined. So she spent 5 hours at his house – 2 hours eating, and 3 hours sitting on the couch being serenaded by him and his wife. Turned out they were huge country fans.

Yes, I realize that this anecdote would merely reinforce every stereotype that people hold about the Deep South. Yet I met so many people who defied my preconceptions, who burst out of the narrow boxes i had put them in. And through it all, the unwavering hospitality. One Sunday we went to a Baptist Church with an all-black congregation. In we filed, 11 university students of various races, to watch the service. We got thrown some looks, for sure – but at the end of the service the members of the congregation surrounded us, peppering us with questions about where we were from and what we were doing. Every person I met was genuinely interested in what I was doing, and full of praise for anyone venturing into the Delta to do community work. The next day, while we were at Walmart – the epicenter of social life in the town unfortunately – a lady approached us. Weren’t we the students doing service work around here? She’d seen us at her church, and gave us her number and said won’t we please come round for dinner sometime. It was this kind of ready hospitality – a woman inviting 11 people she barely knew into her home – that touched me. Many people in the Delta don’t have a lot to give – and yet they’ll give you what they can, with an open heart and a ready smile.

Waiting for Superman

Before the end of the year, public education reform is going to find itself catapulted onto the national stage. In September, Academy Award-winning film director Davis Guggenheim, known for “An Inconvenient Truth”, will wide-release his latest, a film about the sad state of public education in this country called “Waiting for Superman”. Guggenheim’s documentary follows five families on their tireless, heart-wrenching search for a good school for their promising children. He weaves into their narratives a review of public education, surveying dropout factories and academic sinkholes. Embracing the belief that good teachers make good schools, the film offers hope by exploring innovative approaches taken by public charter schools and education reformers who have refused to leave their children behind.

Because America’s Promise is hosting screenings and panel discussions about the film in nine cities across the country this fall, I had the privilege of seeing the film last week. As I settled into my seat at the Georgetown-area theater, a voice I recognized began to introduce the film. I looked up, and to my surprise, standing before me was Geoffrey Canada, founding president of the Harlem Children’s Zone. Ever since we read about HCZ for class, I had followed Mr. Canada and am in the process of reading his book “Whatever It Takes”. He had become one of my idols, so it was incredible to hear him speak. Mr. Canada was at the screening because he is interviewed in the film. At the end, I had the opportunity to ask him about how Americans can help make change, a question relevant to the project I’m working on as part of my internship.

A few weeks ago, I attended a screening of a similar film called “The Lottery”, directed by Madeleine Sackler, a Duke alum who put graduate school on hold to make a documentary about an issue that struck her. Madeleine was at the panel discussion that followed the screening; it is inspiring to see someone so young become so influential in the field. It was fascinating to hear from her and the other panelists – a representative from DC Public Schools and a principal at a KIPP charter school. Though public school districts are often at odds with public charters (since the introduction of charters sometimes means less funding for other public schools), but the dynamic is different here in DC. Under Chancellor Michelle Rhee, DCPS has embraced successful charters, which made this dialogue all the more interesting.

What’s most exciting for me about these films is what their likely popularity will inevitably mean for the level of national dialogue about education. I cannot wait to share this film with friends and colleagues in the fall. In fact, I am currently in conversation with Paramount about organizing an advanced screening at Duke or in Durham. More details to come.

Check out the trailers for each of the films below. Hope everyone had safe trips home – see you back on campus soon!

Week 3

I heard DC was great and that Jean and Bo met a lot of great people that could help medi@rt, however the one thing that stood out to me was the importance that funding now plays a role in our program. It never seemed as much of an obstacle as it is now.

Fortunately, Jean and Bo are spending a lot of time and doing a great job on grant letter writing. From what I hear, saying that it isn’t the greatest thing in the world is a bit of an understatement! We are also looking into different funding programs. The dropbox function that Jean suggested we all download has really been a big help in keeping in contact with all what Jean and Bo have been doing in the grants department.

Week 2

This post is a little random (yet not really), but I was watching this commercial for Levi jeans that seemed really inspirational. Jeans? Did this girl just write that jeans inspired her? Crazy, right? Then you haven’t seen the commercial! Here.

It’s one of those commercials that kind of make you sit back and forget what you were actually watching. Jeans? No, this wasn’t a commercial for jeans, this was for something much more. I feel like it really fit in with what our program is about. Social change for the sake of change (I would say humanity but that sounds a little cheesy). Well, whether it was the Frost poem in the background, or the moving film clips of real America, it just left me inspired and wanting to work even more on medi@rt.

Week 1

It seems like a lot has changed though and it’s only been a week and a half. Jean and Bo told me about some potential changes that they wanted to do and that they still wanted to meet with Gergen and some others to talk about it. I personally think that this new way we are going is a change for the better and it is not hard to see how far we have come from the beginning of January!

Because I am taking summer classes, I can’t really be involved in the daily BCF and Walltown things, so I agreed to do the documentary. (Just a little jealous about the trip to DC and New Orleans though!) I plan to keep in touch with Jean and Bo through email but we are trying to find a good Skype time also, just different ways to keep in communication. I really hope that if my schedule changes, I can make it to a meeting/dinner or two.

And so it begins!