Berry

The Urban Review, Vol. 37, No. 1, March 2005 (Ó 2005) DOI: 10.1007/s11256-005-3560-8

Black on Black Education: Personally Engaged Pedagogy for/by African American Pre-Service Teachers Theodorea Regina Berry Public schools have increasing numbers of its teachers fitting into one demographic, white and female, while the numbers of African American teachers decrease (Ladson-Billings, Crossing over to Canaan: The Journey of New Teachers in Diverse Classrooms. San Francisco: Josey-Bass [2001]). Furthermore, African American collegiates who decide to enter teaching may face a chilly climate as a result of their cultural and educational experiences as they encounter devaluation in the classroom (Delpit, Other People’s Children: Cultural Conflict in the Class room. New York: The New Press [1995]). As a result, African American pre-service teachers may question the validity of the formal curriculum presented in college as it conflicts with their perceptions of school, thereby, leaving teacher-educators largely responsible for the quality of life and subsequent devotion to profession of these students. Critical autoethnography, using fieldnotes/research journaling, and student memoirs all through a theoretical backdrop of critical race feminism provide a glimpse into the teaching and learning experiences and dilemmas of one African American female teacher educator utilizing what I call personally engaged pedagogy as a means of enhancing the quality of the learning experiences of her African American pre-service teachers. KEY WORDS: African American pre-service teachers; memoir; pedagogy; teacher education.

INTRODUCTION As a member of society journeying through this new 21st century, I see that public schools have increasing numbers of its teachers fitting into one demographic: white and female (National Center of Education Statistics,

Theodorea Regina Berry is an AERA-IES Post-Doctoral Fellow at the University of Illinois at Chicago, College of Education, Curriculum and Instruction. Her research interests are memoir in teacher education, critical examination of race/ethnicity/gender in teaching and teacher education, and African American women and education. Address correspondence to Theodorea R. Berry, AERA-IES Post-Doctoral Fellow, College of Education (MC 147), Curriculum and Instruction, University of Illinois at Chicago, 1040 West Harrison Street, Chicago, IL 60607-7133, USA; e-mail: [email protected]. 31

0042-0972/05/0300-0031/0 Ó 2005 Springer ScienceþBusiness Media, Inc.

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2000) In the meanwhile, I am noticing the numbers of African American teachers decrease. This is a direct reflection of the populations of students in teacher education programs in the United States. The prospective teacher population is . . . predominantly white. The enrollment of schools, colleges, and departments of education (SCDEs) in the late 1990s was 495,000. Of these students, 86 percent were white; about 7 percent were African American; about 3 percent were Latino. The number of Asian–Pacific Islander and American Indian–Alaskan Native students enrolled in SCDEs is negligible (Ladson-Billings, 2001, p. 4).

African American collegiates who decide to enter teaching may face a chilly climate. Delpit (1995) highlights teacher education programs and the environments therein as a significant reason for African Americans and other minority students desiring to depart from the profession. We, as student–teachers, bring our experiences from our in-school and out-ofschool lives that impact the way we think about ourselves and the world around us into the collegiate classroom. ‘‘Prospective teachers do not easily relinquish beliefs—developed as a result of their own cultural and educational experiences—about themselves or others’’ (Ladson-Billings, 1994, pp. 130–131). However, as pre-service teachers, we are expected to acquire the knowledge and skills (that may be contrary to those beliefs) necessary to be effective in the classroom. African American collegiates often experience degradation of self-worth and personal knowledge in the classroom (Delpit, 1995). ‘‘Most of the black . . . teachers interviewed [by Delpit] believe accounts of their own experience are not validated in teacher education programs. . .’’ (Delpit, 1995, p. 108). As a result, African American preservice teachers question the validity of the formal curriculum presented in college as it conflicts, in many cases, with their perceptions of school based on their experiences (Hooks, 1994), thereby, leaving teacher-educators largely responsible for the quality of life and subsequent devotion to profession of African American students in teacher education. So, what do we, as teacher-educators, do about this dilemma? How do we improve the quality of experiences of African American pre-service teachers that may, in turn, impact upon their success in the profession? This paper focuses on my work as a northern born, raised, and educated African American female teacher-educator utilizing bell hooks’ engaged pedagogy for African American pre-service teachers in the South as a means of improving their quality of experiences. This paper will begin with a brief examination of who I am as an African American woman to contextualize this work through the histories/identities I bring into the classroom, acknowledging that I bring my whole self into the teacher education

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classroom. I will also provide some information about my students to point out the intersections and departures of our identities. Following this, I will discuss the theoretical framework, critical race feminism, I use to ‘see’ this experience, and the methodologies, critical autoethnography and memoir, to engage in this experience. Additionally, I will discuss bell hooks’ engaged pedagogy. The story of this experience will follow the discussion regarding bell hooks’ engaged pedagogy and the paper will concluded with reflective thoughts about this experience. Who I Am

I am a native of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and I was educated in the city’s public schools in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s when school integration was new and exciting and my peers were from families of varying racial, ethnic, and socio-economic backgrounds. I consider myself a daughter of time and fortune because my education was substantially influenced by the efforts and gains made by those before me. I was the benefactor of the Civil Rights movement, the women’s liberation or feminist movement, Title I, Title IX, and every other legislative act that succeeded all of the Movements. I did not have to fight against weapons, police and their dogs or angry White people to enter school. I had new textbooks, new classrooms and only a few (chronologically) old teachers. I went from walking home for lunch everyday to having lunch in school. I could participate equally and freely without my biology entirely dictating limitations and parameters. I am a second generation college graduate whose ancestors could be labeled Black, Red and White, who served this country in the military several times over, who served White people more than I care to articulate, and who moved around like eastern European gypsies. All of the benefits and lessons I learned from those before me and my educational experiences during this historical era of education are a significant part of who I am as a teacher-educator. I learned from my maternal grandmother who escaped from reservation living that I could be educated without being assimilated. So, I encourage my students to challenge everything they learn. I learned from my paternal grandmother that all of your stories, published and unpublished, travel with you wherever you go. So, I take all of who I am into the classroom. I learned from my father that freedom isn’t free. So, I bear the responsibility to find someone to take along my journey and lift them up as I climb. All of these and other Black, Red and White people in my life were different with differing experiences. Through them, collectively, I learned to value the differences within and the importance of knowing who you are. So, there I was, carrying all of who I am to a historically Black university located in North Carolina where the majority of the students at this

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institution are residents of the state where the university is geographically situated. The majority of the students are African American, thereby, making the majority of the students enrolled in the institution’s teacher education program African American. However, the majority of the faculty in this teacher education program is White. Additionally, many of the students were first generation college students receiving some form of financial aid. This became evident to me when I learned (from the students) that many of them would not have books for my classes until their refund checks were available. My African American students were, mostly, born and raised in the South. I didn’t share their experiences of being ‘in the cut’, chopping cotton and tobacco, and understanding the difference between fixin’ to do something and fittin’ to do something. However, I knew what it meant to watch someone step, play double-dutch and jax, and to be chillin’ on the yard. As I discovered the intersections and departures of our identities as African Americans, I decided to engage in this teaching and learning experience from this place. What I Believe

I subscribe to and advocate critical race feminism (CRF). As an outgrowth of critical legal studies and critical race theory, it suits my sensibilities in that it acknowledges, addresses, and accepts my Black experiences as different from those of my brothers (critical race theory) and my womanhood as different from those of my sisters (feminist theory). Critical race theory (CRT) has been identified as a movement of ‘‘a collection of activists and scholars interested in studying and transforming the relationship among race, racism, and power’’ (Delgado and Stefanic, 2001, p. 2). CRT has several basic principles, three of which are most appropriate for this discussion. The first principle asserts that racism is ordinary and normal in American society. Rather than accept the societal marginalization placed upon people of color as identified in CRT, critical race feminism places me and my sisters as women of color in the center, rather than the margins, of the discussion, debate, contemplation, reflection, theorizing, research, and praxis of our lives as we co-exist in dominant culture. CRT and CRF adherents like myself utilize narrative or storytelling as counterstories to the master narrative, the dominant discourse. Here, I will share some stories of my experiences as an African American female teacher educator teaching African American pre-service teachers. These stories, unlike many stories in teaching and teacher education, are intended to provide avenues toward new lessons for teaching African American pre-service teachers. However, unlike CRT adherents, critical race feminism is multidisciplinary as its draws from

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‘‘writings of women and men who are not legal scholars’’ (Wing, p. 5, 1997) as evidenced in the social and political writings of Collins (1990; 1998), Hooks (1990) and James (1999). CRF is supportive of and concerned with theory and practice. As an adherent of the CRF movement, I believe abstract theorizing must be supported with actual concerns of the community. Here, I not only want to support engaged pedagogy (which will be discussed later) as a theory but also as a practice within the context of teacher education, a significant place for pedagogy to live. More importantly, my desire is to have hooks’ engaged pedagogy live as a means of improving the quality of experiences of an important sector of the African American community: African American teachers. As an advocate of CRF, I support a discourse of resistance such as that found in engaged pedagogy (which will be discussed later). CRF suits my sensibilities as it addresses all of my intersecting beings: African American, woman, teacher-educator, researcher, scholar, sister, friend, and more. By permitting myself to engage in the ideology of critical race feminism, I can be more free to bring all of who I am into the classroom. By doing so, I can disregard the monolithic discourse of the universal Black woman and acknowledge the multi-dimensionality of my personhood. But, why is critical race feminism important to teaching African American pre-service teachers? CRF encourages me to acknowledge and accept of my multi-dimensionality as an African American woman who is a teachereducator, among other things. As such, I must understand that I bring my whole self and all connected experiences, into the classroom. By understanding this, I also understand that my students bring all of their experiences and knowledge into the classroom. What I intend to teach to them gets filtered through these experiences. CRF also acknowledges the importance of storytelling. Students’ stories, including their stories of school, are important to know in the context of their development as teachers because these stories, these experiences, may influence what they learn and how they learn it as well as what they choose to teach and how they choose to teach as emerging teachers. Making their stories important to the teaching and learning experience also centers, rather than marginalizes, their personhood. CRF advocates for such centering. Through the lenses of CRF, I could ‘see’ my complexities. By viewing the world through such lenses, I can ‘see’ more of the complexities of ‘‘others’’. How I Made It

I taught a class within a teacher education program in a School of Education that consisted of 28 students of which 25 were African American men and women of traditional college age (18–25 years). Of these

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25 students, 17 were women and 8 were men. My primary data collection utilized students’ memoirs (educational autobiographies), research journaling, and exit cards—index cards provided at the end of each class session with anonymous comments and/or questions about that day’s session. I conducted the class using hooks’ engaged pedagogy (which will be discussed later)—interweaving the curriculum into my life experiences and those of my students—and critical autoethnography. CRF was the theoretical framework under which I, as teacher-educator could understand the multiplicity of story presented by my students as multi-dimensionality of story serves as one of the tenants of CRF. Memoir and Critical Autoethnography

This work was constructed through memoir and critical autoethnography I started the class by giving my students, as an assignment, the task of writing their memoirs/educational autobiographies to be entitled ‘‘What School Was Like For Me’’. I gave the students the first four weeks of the semester to complete this assignment and to address their memories of their educational and schooling experiences any way they chose. Upon receipt of these stories, I read and reflected upon what these students chose to share with me and constructed meaning from their messages. The exit cards helped me to understand whether (or not) I, as teacher-educator, had interpreted or misinterpreted the messages of their stories. From these ‘construction sites’, I found ways to teach and reach these students within the context of the curriculum. As we engaged in this curriculum, students shared other memories of schooling stories that provided me with additional opportunities to (re) construct the curriculum. Rather than the term ‘autobiography’, I prefer the term ‘memoir’. Memoir, for the purpose of this study, is a written record of experiences provided by the writer. I prefer this term because it reflects what I believe to be a pertinent component of telling one’s story: memory. Telling the story is important; however, equally important is what is remembered and what is selected to be told from that memory. Written experiences are based on the writer’s memories, reflect the writer’s ability to recall, as well as how and what the writer recalls. Kelly (1997) points out that what we remember and what we tell about ourselves, most particularly, what version of self is promoted, usually ‘‘reflects the preferred notion of self and meaning in current circulation’’ (p. 50). Kelly (1997) provides special attention to the use of such memoirs in education by ‘‘members of socially marginalized groups’’ (p. 51). Memoir has provided a means by which such groups can expose social and political oppression from a historical perspective; however, as a cautionary note, by placing in view a particular self silences other

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versions of self and potentially essentializes a group identity. CRF opposes such essentializations as it recognizes multi-dimensionality of personhood. I realize that in telling these stories, there are many other stories untold. I realize that in telling these stories, I am promoting a particular version of self, an African American female teacher-educator. I realize that in telling these stories, readers may feel permitted to essentialize the experiences of African American women as teacher educators. I realize that in telling these stories, readers may feel permitted to essentailize the experiences of African Americans in teacher education. But these stories, ladened with lessons from my ancestors, though promoting what I know from what I remember, are memories and lessons to be added to another’s memory for new lessons. They will be among the multiple of existing stories. Critical autoethnography opposes essentializations of any groups as it seeks to understand tensions in power relationships within a culture ‘‘on three levels simultaneously: the issues being researched, the research process itself and the researcher’’ (Kincheloe, 1991, p. 146). The issues being researched in this work is teacher-educator praxis; the research process is the application of memoir for critical reflection; the researcher identity is teacher-self. The central focus of this work is the re-positioning of my work as teacher-educator toward an impact on my praxis that will reflect a deeper consideration of my students’ educational lives. In this case, the narrative presented places me in the social context of the university classroom as co-conspirator in the power struggle. My desire is to have the students’ life experiences to bear precedence in this struggle. Hooks’ Engaged Pedagogy

Life experiences, when permitted into the classroom and given voice, can call to task the established of official knowledge (Apple, 2000) generated, supported, and perpetuated in education. These life experiences, as the foreground toward addressing issues within the curriculum, serve as one significant component in engaged pedagogy. Hooks (1994) speaks elegantly about the process of teaching students ‘‘in a manner that respects and cares for ‘‘ (p. 13) their souls as opposed to ‘‘a rote, assembly line approach’’ (p. 13). As a contrast to the ‘safe’ place of lecture and invited response, Hooks (1994) moves to a place of resistance as she espouses ‘‘a progressive, holistic education . . . more demanding than critical or feminist pedagogy’’ (p. 15). hooks advocates an education that goes beyond the classroom (Florence, 1998) and relates to them as whole human beings. Beyer (as cited in Florence, 1998) suggests that this may mean including elements of popular culture in the classroom experience. In this study, I incorporated students’ schooling lives in the classroom experience. Such valuation

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‘‘redistribute[es] power to students’’ (Ellsworth, 1989, p. 306), delineates ‘‘the socially constructed and legitmated authority that teachers/professor hold over student’’ (p. 306) and understands that students’ lived experiences provides dimensions of knowledge into the classroom that the teacher/ professor could not know ‘‘better’’ than the student. Another significant component of engaged pedagogy is mutual vulnerability. The life experiences of the students within the context of the curriculum as a means of validating the curriculum is important. However, such vulnerability must be mutual; engaged pedagogy warrants the vulnerability of the teacher/professor via revealment of personal lived experiences in connection with the subject. In fact, hooks insists that initial revealment come from the teacher/professor, facilitating movement from that safe place to a place of resistance. Teacher/professor revealment has the potential to shift the power relationship. The possibility of change in the power relationship between teacher/professor and student(s) via teacher/professor revealment has the potential to change the way teacher education is conceptualized. In order for students to begin and continue to reveal their memoirs, trust has to be established through the duration of the relationship. As a teachereducator utilizing engaged pedagogy, I have to establish this trust. Furthermore, engaged pedagogy requires me to initiate vulnerability to establish trust. I believe that telling my own story first helps to establish that trust; revealing other life stories about myself in the context of the curriculum strengthened the trust and established an environment where students revealed their own stories.

TEACHING ONE ANOTHER Stories

Starting Out I introduced myself to the class. ‘‘I just moved here from the Chicago area, and I’m learning things about this area and the university. So, if I make some mistakes, just bear with me and help me out a little’’. One African American student asked, ‘‘Are you from Chicago’’ ‘‘No’’, I replied. ‘‘I’m from Philadelphia. But I haven’t lived there since I finished high school’’. ‘‘Did you go to college in Chicago’’, another African American female student asked. ‘‘No. I moved to Chicago to attend graduate school’’. One African American male student offered a barrage of other questions and I answered all that I felt were appropriate for response; some, such as ‘‘Do you have a boyfriend’’, I felt were too personal. I just didn’t know

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them well enough to share that much of me. At this point, I revealed part of my story. After graduating from college, I moved to the Boston area to take a position in the higher education administration field. Two years later, I moved to the Washington, DC area where I lived for four and a half years. This was where I started working for the US Department of Defense. I transferred my job from the Pentagon to the DoD European Theater of Operations in Germany where I worked in three different cities during the six and a half year I spent there: Frankfurt, Wiesbaden, and Mannheim. However, after my first year in Germany, I decided I wanted to get back into education. And for every year longer I spent in Germany, I longed deeper to be an educator. Finally, I left to attend graduate school. One White female student asked what I wanted to do when I was in college. ‘‘I had a double major in music and communications and wanted to go into sound engineering’’, I replied. ‘‘What instruments did you play’’, asked an African American male. ‘‘I was a voice major in music and a newspaper and radio major in communications’’, I replied. Following my response, there were several requests for me to sing something. I politely declined. Like a true prima donna, I just didn’t feel prepared to perform in front of an audience. ‘‘So, what made you want to teach’’. . . When I reflect on this question, I think about all of the teachers who were positive role models in my life. I think about the teacher who taught me to read. I think about the teacher who taught me to sing. I think about the teacher who encouraged me to write. I also think about all of the experiences I had inside and outside of school. When I wasn’t singing, I was teaching. Teaching and learning have been a large part of my life. I suppose that is why I longed for it so. Metaphors and Similes of Schooling

Students walked into the room and found their seats as they chatted excitedly about a myriad of things of which I could not keep track. I started the class session by having the students organize themselves in groups of four to discuss the assigned reading for the day’s session and develop a listing with explanations of metaphors and similes of schooling. In my explanation of the task, I provided my own metaphor. ‘‘School is like a garden, the teacher is the gardener, the students are the flowers and plants, and the principal is garden specialist or florist who provides resources to care for the plants and flowers and guidance to care for them properly. If the principal or the teacher lack something, the students suffer. However, the care and nurturance they both provide help the students to grow. Students can gain care and nurturance from outside

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sources as well, such as parents and community members who are like rain and sunshine to the plants and flowers’’. The students applauded. One White female student raised her hand. ‘‘Does it have to be that complex’’? ‘‘No, but I’m sure you can find many ways to make connections to the metaphors and similes you would like to present with the help of the members of your group’’, I responded. Nancy (I have changed all the names) asked, ‘‘Was school really that good for you’’? Some students started to giggle. Nancy turned around in her seat and looked at them harshly. ‘‘You know what I mean’’, she scolded. I explained that the adults in my K-12 schooling experiences did, indeed, make school a nurturing, caring place for me, most of the time. I didn’t have good peer relationships in school until high school because my peers saw me as odd and different. ‘‘I was the skinny, dark-skinned, smart girl with braces’’, I explained. ‘‘But, you chose to use a positive metaphor’’, the White female student responded. I explained to the class that they could use and/or share any metaphor they wanted, positive or negative. ‘‘School is like a jail, the students are like prisoners, the teachers are prison guards and the principal is the warden’’, one student I’ll call D. Students were assigned to read a chapter of the text entitled Metaphors of Schooling and I was in the midst of facilitating a discussion based on an in-class small group assignment to develop metaphors and similes of school. When D provided his response, the class responded in thunderous applause, some students standing while clapping. I couldn’t help but to believe that many of these students did not often experience school in positive ways. Reminded me of D’s story of silence. After our first week of classes, D indicated to me and students within earshot that he thought this was going to be a good class. ‘‘How do you know that? We just got started here’’, one African American female student proclaimed. ‘‘Because, man, she lets me talk. All these other professors ‘round here always talkin’ about how bad I talk and tellin’ me to be quiet and stuff. I’m a history ed major an’ I know my stuff; I jus’ don’ say nuthin’ cause they don’t like me’’, D explained in a slow, deliberate manner. ‘‘He’s right, Professor Berry. He doesn’t talk much in his other classes; he talks more in your class than any of the other classes we have together’’, the African American female student responded. ‘‘I guess this will be a good class’’. One Black Male Teacher

‘‘Dr. Miss Berry’’, D called out. ‘‘Who was the worst teacher you ever had’’? I shared with him and the rest of the class my experience with my second grade teacher. Mrs. O was the only White teacher I had in elementary school. After surviving and thriving through a very difficult first

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grade year as a learner, I was anxious to show off all I had learned to my new teacher. But as the year proceeded, I found that the teacher would rarely call on me in class and often would not allow me the read the books I wanted to read, always explaining that she thought they were too difficult. When the first report card for the school year was issued and delivered to my parents, they went to the school to talk to the teacher. With me by their side, they told the teacher in a very angry tone that they did not understand how she could grade me so low when she rarely gave me anything to do for homework and very little to read. At the end of the conversation, Mrs. O promised to allow me to do anything I wanted to do. However, for the remainder of the year, I did all of my schoolwork, reading, math worksheets, and writing, alone while she explained to the rest of the class that I had ‘different’ work to do because I was ‘special’. This caused me to reflect on Nancy’s story of schooling. Nancy wrote about an African American male teacher she had in fourth grade who she referred to as ‘‘the meanest black man I ever met’’. This experience, coupled with the periodic absence of her father, made me wonder how she would interact with her Black male colleagues. Furthermore, I considered how her experiences might influence her relationships with her (future) Black male students. I decided to bring my brother in as a guest speaker. I invited Andre’ to speak to the class as an educator and CEO and Founder of the Genesis Tutorial Program about community entities in schools, North Carolina education, teaching in a charter school, and parental involvement. The students asked about the mission of charter schools, student discipline, teacher liability, and problem-solving in schools. Students also asked questions regarding parental influence and involvement in education and made connections to their personal experiences as students and, in some cases, parents. My brother shared personal and professional experiences as a parent and a teacher. Students were highly engaged in the dialogue and appeared to be comfortable in speech and demeanor. Exit cards for this class session read ‘‘great class’’, ‘‘really enjoyed the class’’, ‘‘love to have him back, ‘‘enlightening’’, ‘‘insightful’’, and ‘‘very informative’’. After the class session, Nancy walked toward my brother and extended her hand. ‘‘I hope to be working with you someday’’, she stated as she shook his hand. She left to go to her next class. Test Anxiety

When I reviewed the syllabus with the class at the beginning of the semester, I explained that rather than give long, arduous tests I would give a short, narrative response quizzes each week based on the weekly reading assignment. Some of the students questioned the purpose for the design of

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the quizzes, stating they would prefer a multiple choice design. I explained that this designed served two purposes. First, I would be able to listen to their thoughts and opinions on the assigned topic. Second, essay (narrative) style assessments would model the Praxis II teacher certification exams these students would be required to take. Many students’ stories spoke of their disdain for tests and testing, in class and in their memoirs. I could sense their stress. As much as I wanted to just do away with the concept, this form of assessment was an expectation within the School of Education. As a junior faculty member, I didn’t want to fight a battle for something I could simply modify. But how would I address the needs of my students? How could I help them relieve some stress, if only a little, about the idea of taking a test? I incorporated a choir exercise learned in high school. On the very first quiz day, students entered the room looking quite anxious and somewhat distressed. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. As they entered the room, I handed each student a quiz paper. Since the quizzes were short (one or two questions), I allotted 25 min, half the class session, to complete the quiz. Most of the students had completed the quiz and handed in their papers before the allotted time had expired. When the quiz time had expired, I announced to the class that we were about to engage in a physical exercise that required touching another person; if they did not feel comfortable with this idea, they were not required to participate. I then asked those students who desired to participate to stand up and line up in a single file, facing another person’s back. Students were then asked to massage the shoulders of the person standing in front of them. The room immediately erupted in laughter and conversation as the massaging began. I allowed the students to continue in this manner for approximately one minute; at this point, I asked to the students to turn around so as to face the back of the person who was previously standing behind them and massage the shoulders of that person. When the minute expired, I asked the students to take their seats. ‘‘Why did you think about the exercise?’’, I asked. Most students commented that they enjoyed the experience and felt much better after taking the quiz. One African American female stated that she felt uncomfortable but wanted to try it to see what was going to happen. ‘‘I don’t think I’ll do that next time’’, she added. ‘‘That’s okay’’, I responded. You don’t have to’’. ENGAGING TENSIONS Ethical Dilemmas

The dilemma of the written versus the non-written stories between teacher-educator and her students was great. I did not provide a written

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account of my stories, rather verbal accounts were made available in the context of the curriculum. I exercised power through the request in the disguise of an assignment. But, to look deeper would mean to question what right I had to ask such details of my students’ lives. How could I be so bold as to ask to make such details public? Was I not playing out the master narrative (Romeo and Stewart, 1999) as teacher with the right to ask students to do whatever I ask under the auspices of teaching and learning? Students were asked to write their educational autobiographies (memoirs). And I realized, as Smith (as cited in Jipson, 1995) noted, that ‘‘autobiographical writing is always a gesture towards publicity . . .’’ (p. 190). But I worried that to have done so would have imposed upon the students ‘the right way’ to tell their stories. My story may have become the master narrative (Romeo and Stewart, 1999). Instead, I was the teacher who was asking of them something great while, initially, providing very little in return. Instead, I was this strange person asking them to reveal things about themselves. Recall and Revealment

To tell one story is to surpress other stories. Kelly (1997) believes that what one recalls may be different from what one chooses to reveal from the recalled. These choices may be influenced by (1) who is the recipient of the information (2) the trust relationship between the informant and the informed and (3) the context under which the information is being revealed. Ellsworth’s (1989) concerns regarding the ‘‘asymmetrical positions . . . of difference and privilege’’ (p. 315) held true here. Through the process of personally engaged pedagogy, educational autobiographies for engaged pedagogy, I realized that regardless of the commonality of race I maintained the power position traditionally reserved for the teacher. This is where the master narrative paradigm and issues of recall and revealment intersect. I created the assignment, determined when it would be ‘‘finished’’, and determined how it would be used. I followed the traditional and expected role of the teacher. Therefore, what was revealed to me in the students’ memoirs was filtered through this role. An assignment intended to give voice to students’ experiences maintained the political singularity found in critical pedagogy, as identified by Ellsworth. The assignment produced empowerment coming from me, as teacher-educator, not my students. Based on her (1989) writing, Ellsworth would be opposed to such transactions in pedagogy. The ‘‘asymmetrical positions . . . of difference and privilege’’ (p. 315) played out in the initial assignment and not in

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the dialogue—the point of departure for critical pedagogy and engaged pedagogy. The Art of Writing

I asked the students to write, rather than narrate, their students so as to prevent filtration through my thoughts and ideas. I also made the deliberate decision prior to receiving these stories that, except for minor punctuation and capitalization errors, I would not alter what these students submitted to me. I assumed that, as college students, they would have basic skills in grammar, sentence structure, and organization. This assumption was developed from my experiences as student and teacher-educator. Upon reflection, I realized that I was imposing my identity as student onto their experiences through my expectations of what I believed students should know. As a result, I was given the opportunity to know my students through their writing and the spaces in their writing. NOTHING EVEN MATTERS Knowing is an experienced thing and experiences give us knowing. My experiences with these African American students provided me with lessons of knowing I do not believe I could have acquired without knowing them. And the things they did and said were equally as important as the things they omitted, intentionally or unintentionally. During the course of the semester, I noticed that some students were more vocal than others. This did not mean that these students did not have anything to say. But, it could mean that, for reasons too numerous to speculate, they chose not to reveal what they may have been thinking. The memoir writing assignment may have also created some barriers to knowing for me in this classroom experience. The imposition of my student identity did not allow me to ‘see’ that writing may not have been the ideal form for each student to communicate their memories of their educational experiences. As a result, there may have been numerous stories excluded, unvoiced in this assignment simply based on the venue for presenting such stories. In both of these cases, there were things left unsaid where I had to discover the messages on my own. But, there were also things said that were not explicit or deliberate. I learned it is important to facilitate nurture, and appreciate possession of a dual discourse. According to Gee (as cited in Delpit, 1995), this would mean that students would have a ‘‘mainstream discourse’’ (p. 160) and a ‘‘home or community-based discourse’’ (p. 160). With this knowledge, I was able to focus on what the students were saying rather than how they were communicating.

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I learned that storytelling(s), a tenet of CRF, is an effective and meaningful way of understanding for both the teacher-educator and the student. This means that I had to respect the right of the student to speak or not to speak and I had to listen carefully and patiently. African American students tell stories differently; that doesn’t mean they are less literate than white students. Additionally, I learned that teaching through counterstory is also an effective and meaningful way to not only gain the understating and trust required of hooks’ engaged pedagogy but to create multiple perspective of a story. This is especially true of personally engaged pedagogy as the story/ memoir of the student serves as the launching point for the teacher-educator in hooks’ engaged pedagogy and is the location of multi-dimensionality. Nancy* describes her years in a local North Carolina school as ‘‘the worst years’’ in her life and one African American male teacher as ‘‘the meanest Black man [she] had ever met’’. This prompted me to invite my brother, Andre’, to speak to my class. I was compelled to find a concrete way to offer at least one other perspective regarding African American male teachers. Listening meant I was held accountable, responsible for responding to what the students were telling me. Nancy and her African American teacher, D and his experiences with silencing were opportunities to let my students know I was listening. But listening isn’t just about what is conveyed, written or verbally. Listening also means paying attention to what is not said and what it means for some students to be silent. BLACK ON BLACK EDUCATION ‘‘To Learn Black’’ To learn Black in schools means Martin Luther King is the greatest man who ever lived and to forgive slavery and the white man. To learn Black in the streets when brothers’ eyes meet, you must acknowledge him or commit the sin of absence and oblivion. To learn Black is the sounds

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of ‘Round Midnight, Alright, Out-of-sight, Turn of the lights, Fight the power, Tower of Power, and Lauryn Hill’s The Final Hour. To learn Black is food so sweet like cornbread and stewed chicken meat, pigs’ feet sweet potatoes, mangoes, milk flowing over sweetened sticky rice, pies, and cake that make you shake, like jelly ‘‘cause jam don’t shake like that. To learn Black in love because your man or your woman is all that, got your back, will pick up your slack and understands that when you’re feeling low you can go to him to her and he and she will know without words. I am learning Black, everyday.

As mentioned earlier, few African American students pursuing college degrees select teaching as a profession for various reason too numerous to mention. And those who do may not enter into the classroom if their teacher

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education experiences do not meet their needs. However, those African American student teachers who enter the profession are likely to teach students who look like them. As a teacher-educator, my hope was to improve the quality of the teacher education experience for my African American students while engaging in a critical praxis that would influence the way these students would teach. My hope was to reveal enough of myself to establish trust with my students. My hope is that the way I have taught, this personally engaged pedagogy, would provide one means of connecting with their (future) students. Personally engaged pedagogy requires the memoirs of the students to be centered in the classroom experience while the teacher/professor initiates such vulnerability in revealment of her story/memoir. As an advocate of CRF I realize these stories/memoirs serve as not only counterstory to the lived experience of the teacher/professor but also, especially in the case of African American pre-service teachers, to the (often) monolithic experience of the traditional/mainstream, White and female pre-service teacher. Engaging in such a praxis required that I, as teacher-educator, acknowledge and understand the multiplicity and intersectionality of praxis and being that exist particularly for African American teachers and teacher-educators. As an African American female, I am more than just the sum of collective parts: African American, female, teacher-educator, scholar, daughter, sister, friend, etc. I am one indivisible being (Wing, 1997). My life experiences and multiple identities are intertwined, interconnected. I bring all of who I am into the classroom. The same holds true for these African American student–teachers. Their multiple and intersecting identities as African American, Southernraised, students, and teachers, among others, enters and occupies the classroom space. And each of us brings our lives and our stories into this space. We share this space and we share our stories. This interconnectedness develops new stories. These new stories are not our own because of their connectedness to others. Through this connectedness I was afforded the privilege of knowing my students in the context of the curriculum. These (future) teachers may teach from the perspective of their students rather than from their educational experiences alone. These teachers may allow their experiences to be colored by the educational experiences of their (future) students. These teachers may value their students’ life experiences and allow these experiences to enact power in the classroom. These teachers may value the trust they earn from their students toward the quality of their education. These teachers may engage in critically reflective teaching. These teachers might allow their students to guide and direct their teaching practices. These teachers might solicit feedback from students, parents, and community members regarding instructional practices. And in these days of standardized curriculums and high-stakes testing, having a different direc-

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tion from which to address instruction may increase successful learning and aid in the closing of the achievement gap for African American children. These teachers may be preparing future teachers who could be instrumental in eradicating standardized curriculums, high-stakes testing, master narratives, and impositions of ideals and beliefs in public education. And, some of these African American teachers may have counterstories for educational uplifting of their students. REFERENCES Apple, M. W. (2000). Official Knowledge: Democratic Education in a Conservative Age (2nd ed.). New York: Routledge. Collins, P. H. (1998). Fighting Words: Black Women and the Search for Justice. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press. Collins, P. H. (1990). Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness and the Politics of Empowerment. New York: Routledge. Delpit. L. (1995). Other People’s Children: Cultural Conflict in the Classroom. New York: The New Press. Ellsworth, E. (1989). Why doesn’t this feel empowering? Working through the repressive myths of critical pedagogy. Harvard Educational Review 59(3): 297–324. Florence, N. (1998). Bell Hooks’ Engaged Pedagogy: A Transgressive Education for Critical Consciousness. Westport, CT: Bergin and Garvey. Foster. M. (1997). Black Teachers on Teaching. New York: The New Press. Hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. New York: Routledge. Hooks, b. (1990). Yearning: Race, Gender, and Cultural Politics. Boston: South End Press. James, J. (1999). Shadowboxing: Representations of Black feminist politics. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Jipson, J. (1995). Research as autobiography: Imposition/life. In J. Jipson, P. Munro, S. Victor, K. F. Jones and G. Freed-Rowland, Repositioning Feminism and Education: Perspectives on Educating for Social Change (pp. 187–199). Westport, CT: Bergin and Garvey. Ladson-Billings, G. (2001). Crossing over to Canaan: The Journey of New Teachers in Diverse Classrooms. San Francisco: Josey-Bass. Kelly, U. (1997). Schooling Desire: Literacy, Cultural Politics, and Pedagogy. New York: Routledge. Kincheloe, J. (1991). Teachers as Researchers: Qualitative Inquiry as a Path to Empowerment. London: Falmer Press. Romeo, M., and Stewart, A. J. (Eds.) (1999). Women’s untold Stories: Breaking Silence, Talking Back, Voicing Complexity. New York: Routledge. Wing, A. K. (Ed.)(1997). Critical Race Feminism: A Reader. New York: New York University Press.