Not Forgotten

 Today is the one-year  anniversary of the day I found out about the death of one of my favorite students who graduated four years ago. Kenna Egbune was a light in my life. He was a shining beacon of justice and was an advocate for people to treat others more kindly.

In my AP Lang class today we talked about the paradox of cartography: the idea that when maps are created, they are merely a representation of the place; they are not the place itself. In order to create a perfect depiction of a place, one must include each blade of grass, each brick, etc.

The students asked, "What about memories? Aren't memories kind of like that?" I had to think before I answered. I thought of Kenna. The last time we met was for dinner in August 2012  with some other students from his class. He challenged one of the black girls at the table who said she would only date white men. Kenna pointed out to her how she was not comfortable in her own skin, in her own black skin. His directness caught everyone off guard, most of all the friend sitting across from him.

It is this directness, his fearlessness in the face of social justice that I most remember about Kenna. But this memory is not the man. I can remember his essence, his ability to fight for  GLBTQ rights, for people of color, his passion for justice, but this is not the man he was. This is merely the essence of this person who touched me so deeply.

The paradox though, sitting at the table that evening is that this memory, this point in time, will live forever through the people who were sitting with him that night. Kenna made all of us think. Kenna made all of us stop our lives in that moment and  wonder what it might be like if we were all happy in our own skin, what the world might be like.

This was the essence of who Kenna Egbune was. He changed me, and for that I am grateful.

A Drop in the Bucket

Some days the kids I teach are with me, and some days....well, let's just say they're not. Yesterday was one of those days. I walked into the AVID class I teach, the senior-level course geared towards first-generation college goers in order to help them matriculate through a four year university system. Yah, that one.

I walked into class excited because their FAFSA form was due, that Wiley little bugger that allows most financial aid to come their way, and I could  taste the progress about to be made that would continue to pave their lives towards their future.

Upon opening the door, I had three students who, before saying "Hi Mrs, Robbins, how is your day?" Or even before a simple, "Hello Mrs. Robbins," they blurted "I don't have my FAFSA form!!" Point-blank range, no warning, just blurted it out, all three one after the other in rapid fire.

Here's the thing: since these kiddos were freshmen I have told them I don't want to hear about their problems, I want to hear how they will solve it. Most of the time these students get this and work to resolve whatever issue they have in order to move forward, but not yesterday.

Needless to say, I kind of lost my cool and here's why. I have high hopes for my students. There are kids in this class who want to be doctors, some who want to be lawyers, a couple who want to be teachers, and some who would like to go into business. We have worked hard the last three years to understand that with lofty goals, comes a lot of work with great payout.

My students forget from time to time that piece of the puzzle about hard work. They forget that hard work is not about one big push and then you're done. I wonder if they realize that hard work is what we continually sustain on a daily basis.

Hard work is created by those small things we do every day. All those moments when we would like to vegetate in front of the TV and we choose not to. All those times when we want to sit and just hang out with friends, but we don't. Sometimes we sit in the doctor's office (as I am now) and we want to look at trashy magazines, but we don't. It is these every day decisions that constitute hard work, never letting go of our goals, never letting in to our id, that piece of our ego that tells us our effort is a waste.

I tell my daughter that every day is an interview, that we never know how someone may perceive us may affect our future. This above all else, is what I want my AVID students to take away from their time with me. Life is not a dress rehearsal, it is always on, it is always real, and most of the time whether we know it or not, there is always a audience watching.

Tomorrow is a new day. We will begin our class new and fresh and I know I, for one, will be ready for curtain call.

Success is Real

My AVID class is designed to teach students who test in the middle, who need a push, to get into and matriculate through the university system. This is the last year for my students, I have had them all four years through what is now their senior year.

Part of the curriculum of this class is conducting tutorials; we even have professional tutors who come in to help. Some if my students, though, have practiced the art of tutorials since they were in sixth grade. Yes, you heard that correctly SIX years of tutorials. They have begged and pleaded for something new, and I have to admit that I was reluctant to even broach this topic with my students. 

But the more I read and the more I talk to students who are currently in college, the more I realize we need to make a change. Today I had my students read a study that a researcher at Berkeley conducted to try to figure out why students of color have little success in upper division math classes. He wanted to figure out what would help African American students be more successful, so he began to study the concept of study groups and how these eventually helped his students become successful.

After reading this study, we conducted a Socratic Seminar about the ideas presented and then turned to what my students feel they might need in senior study groups as they begin their transition towards college. 

Here's the punch line: their decisions around what they most need to creat a successful study group are EXACTLY the same as their tutorial forms they have been given since early middle school.

To say I have fought them in the validity of tutorials is a euphemism. After four years of explaining, cajoling, and testifying the benefits of tutorials, my students have FINALLY realized the validity of their time well spent.

It was a happy day, indeed.