Ugh, clichés

In an effort to bring some sort of conclusion to my last entry while in a zombie-like state of near sleep, I apparently tapped out one of the trite clichés I hate the most.  I do NOT see myself as bringing some messianic light into the darkness of my students worlds. Ugh.  That brings to mind an argument that arose in a grad class over the summer regarding interracial adoption. (The class was on cultural competence.) The crux was whether or not a family of one race raising a child of another - namely the most common pairing of a white family with an African, African-American or Latin-American baby - can raise the child without doing the child a psychological/social disservice and with an appropriate understanding of who he or she is in the grand scheme of race.  It got rather heated and having absolutely no background in the subject, my opinions were limited.  The one I did feel most passionately, however, is that any family who takes on a child with the intention of "saving" him or her is already heading down the wrong path.

Returning to the streetlight image, the light I see myself casting is not the traditional literary/religious symbol of hope, goodness, righteousness or what have you.  It is simply a way to help make sense of the world around them.  We see better in the light and that's what I aim to provide.  I like the streetlight image because it casts light on stories that are often hidden from view in our society.  The modern immigrant story has been reduced to an extremely one dimensional one in the political/social arenas. My political leanings certainly come into play here as I will openly declare that I believe that the U.S. desperately needs a better global understanding to understand the complexities of illegal immigration. Another teacher recently noted something that we in ELL-land marvel at constantly: the stories that come out in my classroom are unlike anything that is spoken in any other room in our school.  I credit the streetlight image once again for this. Students need a space to make sense of a crazy world, one that is even crazier for those on the margins. My room is the place where they can come in, turn off the noise and try to make sense of it all. (They can also watch music videos on YouTube and read magazines on the beanbag chairs in their free time...C'mon, people, it ain't Utopia!)

I don't know if I'm clarifying or adding to the superhero complex I am trying so hard not to emit.  If I engage my brain day to day, I come up with all kinds of questions and opinions on rights, politics, ethics, psychology and so on.  On the surface, it's just your average everyday classroom with words of the day, class discussion, journal entries and task-avoidance. My philosophy allows me to believe that at the right moment and given the right conditions, it can be more for the student that needs it.  That's the light I hope exists.

(Believe it or not, there are actually humorous, light-hearted occurrences in my classroom as well.  I'll try to weave some in on the blog, lest I give off the impression I am running a meditation center-rehab-halfway house-daycare-institution. One at a time, perhaps, but not all.)