It is an honor a joy and a calling to be the teacher…and is synonymous with love.
The relationship, rapport & experience you have with your students, begins now.
It was only after I was an adult that I realized what many of my friends probably understood back in 5th grade and that was the fact that school didn’t give a fuck about everyone, only certain people. When I received my ribbon at that ceremony, my friends clapped for me knowing that they would never have a teacher write a speech about them. They weren’t worth saving. They were forgotten.
It’s Friday. And it’s not just any Friday, but one that comes before a beloved four-day weekend here in New York City where we celebrate the Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah. (NYC schools have also added Muslim and Chinese holidays to the calendar too!) If we are honest we all look forward to the opportunity […]
Being totally honest, we came up with two main reasons; 1. We’re not Hispanic and 2. It happens so early in the school year it often get overlooked. However, we were not satisfied with that answer, so we decided to seek out educators who considered themselves to be Afro Latino to ask them about HHM?
We wanted to know two things: why do you identify as Afro Latino and in what ways do you or would you like to celebrate HHM?
Here’s one thing I know for sure, we are some call and response people. Step into any church, dance hall or park and you will see how our children use call and response to get everyone in formation!
A part of being a critically conscious educator is to see things differently. We must decolonize our mind and recognize the history and rituals that our students embody everyday of their lives but which schools try to beat out of them.
One way to decolonize our mind is to center rituals in our classrooms. Now look we already have rituals, our schools are ritualized daily, in a way that does not feed our souls.
In that fog of anticipation, fear, worry and the determination to be a better teacher this year than I was last year, I would greet my students at the door with a smile and usually some music playing. Depending on which emotion was taking over me, it could be anything from Bob Marley, to Rick Ross to Machel Montano to Frank Sinatra. (Damn, I just realized that is a lot of patriarchy there. I need to think about that some more.)