Saturday, July 09, 2016

Black on Black, Jul 9

With each click of the remote, I felt the trauma of the news telling me we've lost another. My mind drifts to all the other things lost in the same moment. I cry in the space of invisible, the pain of my past, my present and my future blur into the reminder this might just be a terrible nightmare. And it's not. It's the sharp pain of how really sick we are getting, our mental states compromised and the echo of our double standard for living is too loud to bare.

"Are all humans human or are some more human then others" 
I hear Romeo Dallaire declare. 

Things seem dark and there is darker still to come. Love's heartbeat is soft, quiet and steady, a pulse that sets us on a new course, a listening for righteousness to set us free. Heard by few it seems at first. Based on the text msgs emails and shout outs, heard by more. It's our time to agitate for this push against Babylon because we shall be free. All of us. The zombies don't get to win. We shall be free. We can Be More then this. We are more then this. My declaration to the World remains the same:

BeMore passionate to DO
BeMore empowered to ACT
BeMore inspired to SEE
BeMore willing to TRANSFORM
BeMore committed to SUPPORT
BeMore open to ACCEPT
BeMore free to GIVE
BeMore ready to RECEIVE
BeMore resourceful to ACHIEVE
BE the STAND to BE MORE……
#BeMoreCommUNITY

Condolences to ALL Who have lost. That's all of us. All power to all people. Peace and Freedom to the World.

"The opposite of Poverty is not Wealth. It's Justice! - Bryan Stevenson 
Sent with Love from my CrackBerry 10 device!



Monday, June 20, 2016

To the student who saved my school year....

Through the strife and struggle, there is nothing to be said,
To the choice who listened with their heart and their head

Although at times it sounded like an echo very loud,
I'm overjoyed and proud my voice was heard and its sound has fallen on fertile ground.

For that, I will be forever grateful as it is rescue for my heart and head too. 

Miss C 

Monday, June 06, 2016

"In end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

Last week I almost caught a case up in this bitch. It was at times a collision of helpless moments that had no clear way to dodge past the madness. I was left to absorb all the energy with little to no outlet to manage my own trauma about it. Although there's a part of me that has become incredibly adapted to the trauma, the sadness is really for the aspect of myself that can never seemingly break free of the traumas. I felt that piece of myself die and no one can hear me screaming. I cried for the Adrienne HS student who felt the same way almost as hard as I cried for the Adrienne educator version. 

Based on the many conversations I attempted to have so I could be clear of the energy, nothing can replace what has been taken especially when the wounds rarely seem apparent to anyone other than me. I realize with great sadness, this profession "lost me" a long time ago and I didn't consciously want to admit my own death had already happened. I was hanging on for the kids. It has been an almost complete death by low expectations and I realize how low they are because my own are now so low, they are practically invisible. I spend time plotting and planning for my 'Emancipation date' like I'm at a Juneteenth picnic while hoping a better offer will free me even earlier. I daydream about things being different - an acknowledgment of my skills and sacrifice versus the exploitation of them only when someone else needs something. "Czar of Black youth" for a school district that cared enough to really tackle de-colonizing education for the benefit of ALL.  

The anger is overwhelming while it bumps up next to all of the things I'm not allowed to be in my work environment - assertive, smart, ambitious, advocate for a perspective that is invisible normally, respected for what I contribute and who I am in this space.

I guess the true sadness is for the institution itself and the reality it has always held - "I'VE GOT TO EDUCATE MYSELF." Like going to a doctor to be told you have cancer and then the doctor asks you, "What are you going to do to treat it?" The silence of the people around me is the straw breaking the back of the possibility. It's a microcosm of what goes on in the world. To fight it from multiple fronts is exhausting. Not even a conversation in a social setting can be free of the madness of the supremacy and privilege some other people hold in ignoring it. To the point, unsolicited advice is delivered with a dismissive quality that tells me, once again, this Zombie can not be killed except by a shot to the Head.  

My death in this career is nearly complete. Like hoards of others, whatever it's ‎been will fade into the memory of time. I will lick my wounds as usual and find a way to walk through the gauntlet that awaits me, again! The essence of who I am had been baptized through the fire and I remain solid in the over standings my contribution has been to those who care to see it. In the bizarrest of ways, it has made me who I am, at least this version of me, an additional double standard on top of the others. We're just in disagreement about what it took to get here.  

"IF YOU DIDNT LEARN ABOUT PEOPLE LIKE ME IN SCHOOL. YOU DON'T INTERACT WITH PEOPLE LIKE ME IN LIFE. YA SURE DON'T GET TO TELL ME ABOUT PEOPLE LIKE ME."


Tuesday, May 10, 2016

AFUA CHRONICLES - Alex Trebek Distinguished Speakers Series, Leymah Gbowee




"Imagine how many invisible walls we've built up around ourselves that have led to wars." - #‎LeymahGbowee 




"Every time you act on a stereotype, you build a wall between you and the person who is the object of your stereotype." #‎LeymahGbowee


"The bullet doesn't know a Christian from a Muslim." -#‎LeymahGbowee

"Today the challenge is ours, to tear down the walls..." in order to work for Peace #‎LeymahGbowee



"It is possible to tear down walls. It is possible to build Peace. It is possible to make our world brighter & better place." #‎LeymahGbowee


"I have been a refugee and I know what it feels like to not be welcome to be part of the community." #‎LeymahGbowee



WHS student steps to the mic "Who was your inspiration?" #‎LeymahGbowee, responds, "Every day women who didn't have the same chance as me."

Tonight was great and not only because I met Leymah Gbowee. It was great because I was able to bring 7 young woman from my classes. Watching them be inspired made every thing it takes to stand in #‎Room216 worth it! Thank you Denise and Sarah for helping me make that happen for those young women. They will never forget this and neither will I. Total Awesome Sauce kinda day!



Tuesday, April 19, 2016

AFUA Chronicles - Zombie of My Week



And the week moves on like all of the rest.  It starts always with Reluctant Mondays.  By Tuesday, reluctance turns into duty.  By Wednesday, duty becomes a pattern of praying to reach Friday.  Thursdays are officially "Sleepwalk Day" with a heavy dose of "Lawrd, I hope I make it to Friday".  Fridays are straight coma, act on survival instinct that says, "Don't get got today so you can get outta here"!  RESET Saturday/Sunday. Repeat the above.

If I think consciously about the week, I'm frequent struck by how quickly the week gets to Thursday which by above definition is really my Friday.  I even like to "go hard" on a Thursday night because come to work blurry on a Friday works when every one's thrown out their chute since Thursday anyway.  

When all the weekdays add up to school years which then translate into a career -- all just measurements of time lost.  It's been a journey with benefits all while enduring the torture of regularity, predictability, and repetition.  If this feeling is the discomfort created to keep me conscious to being prepared to do something else - IT'S WORKING! Some days it doesn't even seem to make sense to give effort to a world set up like this.  The comfort of it literally means death therefore the discomfort might provide LIFE to a new opportunity for my time.......

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Human Library Stories

About three years ago now, Julie Delaney from CBC contacted me to ask if I would be interested in participating in the Human Library Project - a partnership between the Ottawa Public Library and CBC that brings ‘human books’ together and invites the public to ‘check them out’ for 20mins.  I’d already heard of the project and was honoured to have been chosen to participate as the “High School Teacher” book.  Based on a lengthy interview with her, my profile was created, some promos were generated and then they were run on several of CBC’s shows to develop interest.  While I made my way to the Barrhaven branch on the morning of the event, I was listening to CBC.  Lost in thought, I didn't even notice at first that the voice I was hearing was mine.  My promo interview was playing....

I was so nervous the day of.  What if no one ‘checked me out'?  The first thing that happened when I walked into Barrhaven branch made me just cry! Not sad tears. 'Made it' kinda tears. 'Did it' kinda tears. 'An educator I respect calling for me' kinda tears.   

I arrived early and one of the librarians came up to me to say that she had a message for me and then she started to cry.  She said the person on the other end of the phone told her all about me and she felt she knew me now. She told me the story….Mr. Patrick Mason, my now retired colleague! He was listening that morning too.  He was there when I first arrived at that school in 1998.  He was a veteran in the social science dept and he helped me so much those first few years.  They use to say that you didn't have to start with Coddett or Mason but you sure had to finish with their classes. He heard my interview and he called to say how proud he was of me.  

I got myself together after crying with the librarian (technically the first person to 'check me out'), took my seat and waited to see who stepped to the empty chair - a teenager, a teacher candidate doing her practicum, a retired teacher, a curious woman.  Then there was the man in the motorized wheelchair, blind, non verbal. Through his assistant/friend, he asked me to describe to him what being black was. He said he can’t see it so could I describe it for him.  I was like, Holy Shit! How am I going to do that in 20mins? I don’t remember the details of the interaction except that he left the conversation feeling satisfied with my response.  What an awesome opportunity that was because I really had to look for myself and then find a way!  

That’s what the Human Library Project provided, a chance to be open to whatever.  Not just for the person who comes but for the Human Books too.  I was a book for two years and this year I was retired from the collection.  Being part of this has allowed me to eat away even more at the silo I’ve worked and lived in for so long.‎  

But it doesn't end there....

Just as we were getting to the end of our winter deep freeze, I got an email from Executive Producer 
Adele Cardamone-Martel.  Along with Director Chris Mullington, they were inviting me to be part of a documentary featuring a handful of Human Books.  I was given a time and date to come to the studio, make sure that I was wearing something bright that would show up etc.  I've been part of a documentary before so I felt comfortable which meant that I'm about to be my most authentic self (within reason).  I took my seat on the stool that was in front of a black backdrop.  There was just me, Chris, a cameraman, and lots lights.  He asked me lots of questions like we were doing an interview but it was kinda just a conversation.  Chris seemed genuinely curious with some of my responses.  Not sure how much time passed and once he was complete, I felt good about having released the story to him and the universe.  Whatever he created with it, it was going to be cool.  On a morning in June, Chris contacted me again because he wanted to come to my school to get some shots of me in the classroom.  At that time, he also requested some pictures of my growing up.  Oh! Oh! A little known Adrienne Fact - my first career ambition was to be a photographer.  In grade four, with the help of my dad, I made a camera for the science fair.  On the flip side of that, I've never liked being in pictures.  I've heard people remark that it's impossible, until recently, to even find a picture with me in it.  This may be worse though because he wanted pictures that I haven't even looked at in years.  I had to tumble up my whole house to fulfill the request.  What an awesome journey down memory lane. My mom and I sat out back laughing and reminiscing over some great memories.  Some of those early pictures of Angela and I had me get why we are so close now because we were close then. Seeing my parents as young adults, my dad in his 'Richard Roundtree' years, my fashionista momma.  It was ALL good!  Looking at myself, I saw the life I've lived for 48 yrs and how much of it has always been in alignment with my vision even when I had no clue! I saw ALL that I have been to these communities, what I've contributed and ALL that it's contributed to my personal growth and development.  I AM a true child of these communities! Even how I look which isn't really different.  Yes, there were the Jheri Curl years.  I've had locs for so long, I didn't even remember what I looked like without them.  Almost no one who knows me now, knows me without locs! Looking at my parents wedding photos I was like "Dayam, my parents were two good looking people!" Good gene pool! LOL!  I saw who my parents were as young adults.  How much our home was a 'must drop by' location for so many people and visitors! I saw who my parents were to Ottawa.  And we certainly knew how to party! Limin' in my blood for sure! Hosting and entertaining in how we grow up.

Chris came over and snapped away on the pictures he needed....It was the day before I was leaving to head to the International Black Summit annual event in Atlanta and all those memories came on the trip with me to remind me that I come from great people, great experiences, and have overcome many challenges.  Even though I wasn't yet aware, consciously, of what the Declaration would be for the 2015-2016 Summit year, I was set to be able to "embrace ALL aspects of myself".

Last Wednesday, the documentary premiered.  I didn't tell anyone.  I wanted to see it alone.  There were lots of people there but I was alone, hiding in the wide open! As each of the Human Library stories past before mine were told, I got more and more excited.  The stories were so wonderfully, intriguing, genuine, open and I got caught up in the moment, forgetting for a second that my moment would be coming.  Just like I'd gotten lost in the stories of others, I was lost in the story of me like an out of body experience!  

The episode aired last Saturday while I was in New York.  I watched it again last night (PVR).  I feel blessed to have been included and able to speak my truth, to be part of the Human Library family, to live and be from communities of ordinary people with extraordinary vision! 

Thank YOU Chris! Thank you Ottawa Public Library! Thank YOU Human Library Project!  Thank YOU Julie Delaney! Thank You CBC! It's been my pleasure. 

My Human Library Story - click, watch and SHARE! 



Thursday, May 14, 2015

A Conversation in Question!

‎What madness are we living these days? Is it really different madness or is it the same old shit just made to look and smell prettier? Are the dynamics any different? Are the issues more or less challenging? Do we know more or less? Are the impacts more far reaching? Are we doing anything different in response? Are we any smarter? Have we demonstrated we learned any new lessons? Are we simply repeating the past? Are we living life's remix? Why have we invested in people suffering? Why are we seemingly cool with certain people suffering? Why are we committed to ensure suffering for others? How invisible do we have to make people in order to remain unconscious to their suffering? What are the long term consequences of that kind of marginalization? What are the short term consequences of being marginalized? Why might we think there aren't consequences to oppression? Why do we not see oppression? If sharing is caring, why are we unwilling to share power, space and privilege? What can't we see or notice our privilege? How selfish are we when we only notice it when it impacts our self-interests? Why is inequality such an important ingredient to happiness for so many? How do we transform the untransformable? How do we transform systems that seem unable and unwilling to be transformed? Continuing to maintain broken systems, what does that do for us? Who are we? Who do we want to be for real or in jest? Why are we happy with the status quo? Why do we fight progress like it's the dis-ease? Why are we seduced by the concepts of individualism? Why are we satisfied by 'good enough'  and minimalism? How many more generations are we willing to sacrifice?  Why does revolution happen on the backs of young people? Why, when we get to adulthood, do we forget agitation is necessary?  Why is agitation necessary? Why is it easier to be hopeless and helpless than helpful and giving?  Why are some things understood and others struggle to understand? Why do we make simple shit hard? Why are some voices louder then others? Am I part of the problem? Am I part of the solution? Am I as clueless as everyone? Am I prepared to fight for it? Am I prepared to stand for someone else even when that  means I don't ‎get exactly what I want? Can love really conquer all? Can we live together? Do I have to care to care? 

Why am I asking any of this shit? 

Sent with Love  from my Crackberry10 device!
#BeMoreCommUNITY 

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Dreaming of ME.....

(DreamKeepers MLK Jr. Day celebrations, yr?)

[In my dreams I can fly.  It’s the same every time.  I start running.  My speed increases and I take flight.  It’s wonderful and I am free]

The earliest memory I have of myself is really not a memory.  It’s more like a story I’ve heard or maybe it’s just the story I’ve made up but I like it.  The story is when I was two years old, my parents took me to Guyana for the first time.  When my grandfather saw me he said, “Dat chile have de call.”

What the hell is the CALL?  I’ve always taken that story to mean I was special or that I have a special gift of some kind.  It’s actually something that I have always felt about myself but many times was too lazy or stupid to really own any part of it.  I even ran from my greatness by changing my definition of ‘special’, like ‘I’m special like they need to have telethon a for me’.  

This is part is called ‘LOST’

[In my dreams I can fly.  I start running.  My speed increases and I take flight.  Something is wrong.  I’m falling.  Start again.  Run faster, pick up speed.  Take flight.  FALL.  Harder and harder each time.  Just stop flying and you won’t fall.]

I was a ‘curious’ child.  I think that my mother must have asked what she did to deserve the challenge I was as a child.  I was very active and I had a number of interesting anomalies that had to make her crazy.  I would not sit still but I had allergies that the doctor said would require me to stay inside while other children were able run freely outside.  That was not going to work.  She could not keep me indoors even if she wanted to.  I had the only room in the house that was air conditioned because I could not endure heat.  I would get headaches that would keep me in bed for days when I got too much sun.  I grew up with a chalkboard as a ‘toy’ that I then used to help my younger sister to read and write but I struggled with that same thing well into my twenties.  I had great patience for the strangest tasks and incredible frustration for other things.  Every year my parents would give me a copy of The Guinness Book of Records or some type of 'book of facts'.  I would read it and memorize the facts for the strangest things but I would rarely do schoolwork unless supervised.  I was very observant and I had a memory like an elephant (to this day).  I did most things by watching and exploring.  If you left me in a room to figure it out, I probably would especially if it was hands on task.  When I got older, I was obsessed with being a master of liming as I observed in my parents and their friends almost every weekend.  I used to say, “When I get big I’m going to be able to cuss and speak like them.”  High school became my training ground for my growing talent for ‘hanging out’.  

“You are not the kind of student that we are looking for at Syracuse.”  That’s what the letter said when my last opportunity shut the door tight on what was my dream for being like my idol at the time, Wilma Rudolph.  

Oh yeah, I had dreams and I was clueless for how hard I would need to work to achieve them.  Forget achieve them, I couldn’t even find them.  My punishment therefore was that I wouldn’t be able to have dreams.  I was lost without a vision for my life and I was living, surviving out of control.  The first time I ever contemplated suicide was the winter of 1986, the year I should have been graduating from high school.  There was no way I could hide anymore.  Someone would finally demand an explanation for why all of these things were happening.  I was lost in the insanity of it all and I felt like I was not just going crazy, I was crazy for even wanting those things for my life.  
   
This part is called ‘DISCOVERY’

[In my dreams I can fly.  Wow!  I haven’t flown in so long, I’m scared to take flight.  Run fast.  I take flight.  It’s so easy and it feels so good.  I have to fly again.  It feels good to be up here.  What was that?  Something is chasing me.  Fly faster.  Quick before it catches you.]

I remember hearing someone say that the thing we are good at is sometimes the thing we spend the most time running from.  

Even with all of the crazy, disappointments, stupidity, poor choices, I had chances.I   could no longer confine overspending to just be in my head.  I had failed so many times in my own eyes, it was time to prove to myself that I could be smarter than I had been in the past.  When a professor, Dr. Doris Corbett , the most powerful and amazing black woman I had ever known personally took me under her wing, I felt POWERFUL!  I felt EMPOWERED and I wanted to be just like her.  For five semesters I was not just living a dream, I was realizing it.  It didn’t start off like it was in my head, and it was being created in the moment.  

Then it happened.  Just when it looked like I was getting it right, I had to come home.  Was this my punishment for years of wasting time?  Maybe I didn’t deserve an opportunity to catch up, to make up, to live up!  Maybe it’s true, I’m not enough and I should be satisfied with my lot in life.  The cards I have been dealt suck and there is nothing I can do about it except to just suck it up and live with the knowledge that I am special like a telethon special.  This would be the second time that I contemplate suicide and this time was different from the first.  This time I had a conscience with a face like my mother’s insisting that I don’t settle even against all of the perceived evidence to the contrary.  

‘I’m lost but there is a little light because my previous success just won’t let me sleep.  My mind is cluttered and filled with noise and it won’t shut up.  I’m on the cusp of something, either madness or greatness.  I can choose but do I have the energy to reinvent myself while at the same time dealing with my doubt and disappointment’.


This part is called ‘ME’
[I can fly not because I have to but because I want to.  It’s easy.  Run, pick up speed, take flight and soar.  It doesn’t always look pretty.  Sometimes it’s even ugly but I’m flying and it feels good.]

I remember sitting in the ballroom of the Convention Centre in New Orleans in 1997 watching Sistah Souljah speak.  I was moved to tears as she became overcome with emotion while addressing some of the problems of our communities.  So many people in the audience had come to the ‘empowerment’ seminar that day and still, they weren’t getting the need to change their prospective.  For me, I was looking for answers to questions.  I remember her saying, “We got a whole lotta dreadlocks walking around and no consciousness.  A whole lotta African garb and no sense of community responsibility.”  What happened in that moment though was a realization that would put me on a path toward where I had always seen myself and I found my voice.  I can’t really describe it.  I just felt at home, comfortable, familiar with the understanding of who I could be.  

My next break through came in 2002 when I attended my first International Black Summit.  By 2002, I had already established myself in several capacities but I was still a little shaky on the direction and for what purpose.  That first Summit forced me to really take a look at my life and discover the vision in it.  Of course, I thought at first I was doing it wrong because I could only see it in my head.  When I looked elsewhere, in my heart, I found it.  I am empowerment through laughter!  After that, it all fell into place.  No matter what I do, as long as I am true to that vision, I will be fine.  I have blossomed and fully stepped into the possibility that is Adrienne.  

What have I learned about myself?

I am a true Cancerian.  I will never do something before I am ready to do it and my mood is like the moon.

I am afraid to cry for fear that if I start, I will never stop.

I am emotional and 98.5% of everything I do is based on my emotional reaction to it.

I love hard even though I’ve worked hard on not letting people find that out.

I am extremely sensitive, a little known fact.

I am loyal.  When you are my friend, you are my friend.

I am a hard person to know.  Many people may claim to know me but only a handful of people can say they have been allowed to know me.

I have a basic sense of fairness that makes it difficult to have me take on certain things if I can’t see the fairness of it.

I hate rules.  My first reaction when confronted by a rule I don’t understand, is to break it.

I am passion.  Anything worth doing must be fun or it’s not worth doing.

I am committed to the transformation of how we relate to people in black communities.

I love being something that people don’t expect.  

I am athletic even though age has given me a few more pounds to haul around.  

I am an asshole when I want to be and I don’t suffer fools lightly.

I am giving of my time even at the detriment of my own needs.  

I am an introvert in an extrovert’s body.  I can be just as excited about doing nothing as I can be about doing something.  

I am afraid and lonely sometimes even when surrounded by people.

I want to do everything possible not to disappoint myself, my family, friends, and my communities.  

I am laughter.  Oh how I love to laugh.  It’s like a drug and when I discovered how easy I can make myself laugh and others, it was like crack.  It’s the one unique thing that has always been mine.  

I am me.  The good, the bad, and the fucked up of it all! 


There are a lot of things I can use or say to not be wonderful and brilliant in my life and no one would really argue if they knew the story.  My uncle use to say, “If I tell you my story, you would cry.”  That being said, my life has been about really learning to love the whole package.  Inside of struggle, pain, joy, laughter, excitement, failure, triumph, disappointment, and a series of other descriptors...

I have found me and now I don’t have to dream.  

I can fly even with my eyes open.   
Because I have embraced the entire package...
I have discovered how special my life has been.  

I have been divinely blessed and I am special.  

Black Bored (originally published 2002)



 Roots
There are discussions in education, recently, centered on the notion that black youth  are “apathetic” and have not achieved academically at the same rate as their white counterparts.  There have been many successes that have been rarely documented and are frequently lost in the conversation about what is missing.  As I sit in my classroom during African Heritage Month watching Part One of Roots (25th Anniversary) and only eight students are here with me, I too wonder what can be done to change how students relate to their own power and success in school.  Oh, make that seven, one just left!  

The entire system, in my estimation, is designed for them to be apathetic.  If they were more concerned about what was being done in schools, students would question some of the practices, rules, and methods of today’s school system.  There are at least two problems directly impacting black students:  “Diversity” and “Visibility”.  As the only teacher of colour in a school full of students of colour, what affects them affects me.  What do I mean when I say Diversity and Visibility?  Diversity means to provide students with as many experiences and/or opportunities for success to ensure they leave high school with the tools necessary to make them strong and confident learners, workers, citizens etc.  Visibility refers to their ability to not only recognize their own experiences as unique but also feel comfortable about including them as rightfully part a Canadian experience.  

My own public school education is a reflection of the same issues I have observed in students during my years at the front of the classroom.  I can safely say that I never learned to read proficiently until I was in my twenties.  When I was in grade two there was a switch in reading pedagogy and I never quite caught on.  From a very early age I was lost in the classroom.  Poor reading and math skills made me a middle of the road student at best.  By junior high school I had developed a number of survival skills in order to hide my deficiencies.  I could do just enough to stay afloat but never too much to be outstanding in any way and very often, I calculated for doing only just enough.  I also never took responsibility for the choice that underachieving represented.  The teacher would never need to call on me for an answer because I was the student the teacher never saw.  I could make myself invisible in the classroom.  When I meet teachers who taught me in high school and they say that I was a good student, I laugh!  I cannot see how they could remember that I was even in the room.  At my high school reunion, a teacher asked if I was still going to high school even though I had graduated twelve years previously.  
In high school I developed great social skills.  It became my training ground for my athletic skill as well as the artful talent of hanging out, LIME'N!  In fact the only reason I went to school every day was because I would not be able to play sports if I did not.  No one was more disconnected from what was going on in the classroom than me.  Consciously and unconsciously, I was more than just invisible.  I was no existent.  I never read a book.  I never did homework and studying for exams amounted to doing everything the night before.  The consequences of my procrastination and apathy did not become apparent until my senior year when I was being recruited for an athletic scholarship by over eighty-five American universities.  Just imagine the disgrace of being offered a scholarship from Syracuse University ($150,000 over four years) and then getting a letter saying that I was not the kind of student that Syracuse was looking for.  The scary part was the truth of that statement.  They were right.  I had no skills to help me survive at the university level even though I knew that was where I wanted and needed to be in order to fulfill my true potential.  I always thought that I was just stupid and unable to do scholarly work, another great excuse for underachieving.  It really was my excuse and it was easier to blame everyone else.  What I will call, "my second chance" came when a 'clerical error' indicated that I was accepted to the dormitories of Howard University 
(Washington D.C.).  Now, Howard was where my father went to school and I only applied there because I thought they would feel sorry for the daughter of an alumnus.  My mother saw this as my chance to get a university education.  I wrote the SAT for the third time and followed every lead that Howard gave me.  In January of 1988, at 21 years old, I started at Howard as a freshman in the Liberal Arts Department with a major in Physical Education (Sociology of Sport and a minor in Secondary Education).  Although my attending Howard University appeared to be by accident, once there I discovered the experience was exactly what I needed in order for me to begin to earn my way toward not only academic success but to a better understanding of who I was as a person of colour, I was completed enfolded.    Howard University, one of the more than 150 Historically Black Colleges and Universities spread through the east coast of the United States, was the perfect environment for a student like me.  I could stop the impact of the history I lived every day I was on campus.  Although Howard does not use an Afrocentric curriculum, they are able to feed your mind, body and soul with the importance of success at this level from an approach that was a perfect fit - your responsibility is not only to you, it's important for all of us!  This overstanding has not only impacted students who choose this institution it’s impacted the African Diaspora.  The expectation is not about what you learn but more about how you learn and who you ‘be’ as a result of the learning.  Howard is the place that I learned 'why to learn' and I learned about my power as a person from black communities.  I had a responsibility that was beyond me.  I had failed so much before that it was time to prove to myself that I could be smarter than I had been in the past and smarter than I had ever given myself credit for being.  Being in an all black environment was so stimulating and inspiring that I could not help but to do well.  In my first year I did have some trouble adjusting which was reflected in my 3.0 GPA, but by second year I was holding a strong 3.5 and moving closer to 3.8.  I became an avid reader and I sucked up information like a sponge.  It gave me the attitude that there were so many things that I had missed, I needed to make up for lost time.  Homework and studying became second nature.  Other students were coming to me when they had questions in class.  I was actually being recognized for my intellect and I felt POWERFUL!  When one of my professors took me under her wing as her assistant, I felt EMPOWERED.  I had come a long way from my days at Gloucester High School.  

After my years at Howard, becoming a teacher was not an easy journey but it was clear to me that it was the next logical step.  I wanted and still want to be able to show students that they do not have to sit in the back of the classroom and fail.  That knowledge and learning can make them stronger people.  It’s not just a phrase on a bumper sticker.  I learned the importance of having high expectations for myself because it produced results in a way I had never experienced before.  There was nothing for me to fear! 

These are some of the experiences and expectations I bring into the classroom:  high expectations = high results and the new 3Rs (Relationship, Rigour, and Relevance).  Teaching is one of those professions that is ideal for people who know how to work well on their own.  The whole nature of the school system is isolationist in practice and theory.  A teacher works alone in a classroom following a curriculum that is merely a guideline for what can be done in that classroom.  As long as the students in the room meet the expectations and/or outcomes at the end of the year, the teacher has done their job of guiding them toward who they can see themselves being.  Unfortunately, the process of learning is never as flat as the paper the curriculum is written on.  The curriculum does not factor in some of the distinctions that exist across the country, school districts, or classrooms.  Because that curriculum is so flat, it does not inspire or empower students, especially students from diverse backgrounds, to move beyond the outcomes and expectations.  Motivation of black youth has traditionally been a problem that the curriculum has failed to address.  We do not use a curriculum that is rich in diverse experiences and because of that, the experiences of anyone who is not white are not reflected in the classroom.  When students cannot take ownership of what takes place in the classroom or see themselves’ reflected in the textbooks, stories, or materials used, they become DISCONNECTED from the entire process.  A disconnected student is not an active participant in their learning but passively contributes nothing to the entire process.  An example of this is in the Grade 10 history course.  This course is a requirement for graduation under the new and old curricula.  It looks at Canadian history from 1900 to present.  A group of students from a community group that advises our school board (Community Council for Ethno cultural Equity or CCEE) described the course as “boring”.  One of the reasons they gave for this was their experiences were either absent or negative in the course curriculum.  This is just one example of what students of colour have to deal with in high schools all over the country and in a variety of subject areas.  Perhaps because they are invisible, black students can not see ownership in the course and it therefore becomes easier to do poorly.  The school system has done very little to guarantee that this group of students get a fair opportunity to experience diversity in education.  The lack of visibility in the curriculum has been detrimental to the success of Black students because as long as they never see the great things that Black people have done not only in Canada but in the World, they will continue to believe that they belong to a group who has contributed nothing.  

In response to the comments from this group of students, the board decided to make some changes to the course in order to better reflect the diversity that is truly part of the Canadian experience.  For one month during the summer I worked along side two other teachers haggling over what needed to be included as well as excluded.  Because of the time constraints of a semester system, it was not possible to include everything.  The argument put forward at that point was, how do we make teachers use this?  When the door is closed and a teacher stands alone at the front of the room, will they do something different from what they have been doing for years?  New teachers coming into the profession, will they be comfortable enough to tackle the issues of teaching an “Inclusive” curriculum?  

As the only teacher of colour at my school, my work environment becomes a place where every day I have to negotiate the pitfalls of what W.E.B. duBois entitled the “Double Consciousness”.  Between my co-workers and the students, I am constantly treading a thin line between the “Eurocentric” and the “Afrocentric”.  The Eurocentric is necessary for survival.  It goes against my nature but I hold on to it like a life preserver.  It’s my friend from eight thirty to three everyday.  I struggle to discover its secrets.  I try to open it like a walnut but find that I do not always have the right tools.  Afrocentricity is my true nature but I’m forced, at times, to hide it like an ugly child.  Every now and then I bring it out but most often it stays hidden.  I know that if people get a chance to see it, they would see its beauty like I do.  I always feel like I have to educate those around me before I let them see my Afrocentric brilliance, in order to prepare them to discover its beauty but alas, most often, they do not see it.  Everyday my exhausting job is to not only teach what is in the curriculum but what’s not in there as well.  

When I stand at the front of my classroom, I see exactly where I use to sit, how I struggled as a student to maintain my own dreams and the dreams of my educated immigrant parents.  My parents told us that education was the 'great equalizer' in Canadian society.  That with a good education, white people would have no other choice but to give us a fair shot.  

As I look at the faces of my students I also realize that I am not very much different from them.  I too am underachieving in my professional life.  Since becoming a teacher I have failed to keep up with my own professional development and therefore remain overworked and underpaid.  I am very involved in other aspects of school life: coaching several teams, mentorship programs, Anti-racist and Ethno cultural Equity training for teachers, University partnerships, Black History month events, the development of an annual Black Youth conference, community engagement projects, curriculum development etc.  The reality is that I cannot be a classroom teacher for my entire career but I do not see a place for myself in this system.  After our Black history month assembly a student approached me to tell me how much he enjoyed it.  He said that there has been something that he’s wanted to tell me for two years.  He said: “Miss!  You are wasting your talents being a teacher.  Why don’t you find something else to do?”  He meant this truly as a complement (I think) and as I rode the bus home that day, I really considered what he said.  In many ways he is correct but what really bothered me was that he was a black student in one of my classes who was doing very poorly.  At twenty years old he is still in high school.  
  • Have I failed to reach him because I am limited by the tools that I am given?  
  • Do white teachers carry the feeling of having to save all the white students at our school?  
  • What kind of teacher would I be if I just stayed on the margins of my school environment and tried to climb to the top of the educational bureaucracy?  
  • Am I part of the problem?
  • Is this the only way?
  • Is this a way at all?
  • Am I just making this all up?
  • What if I fail?
On long days when I think that I have almost had enough, these are the questions that I consider.  

In my second year at this school the message that was sent to me by administration was that they do not know how to solve the problems for students of colour and their academic success in the public school system.  My principal at the time called me into a meeting to ask ME what WE should do about the problem of leadership among black students at the school.  As well, she thought that I should take a greater leadership role on staff.  My first reaction was to look around the room and wonder why the entire staff was not there.  Why should it be my issue only?  After discussing it for a few minutes, she asked me why I was not more active on staff.  

My answer unfortunately was, “I don’t know!” 

I am Black Bored! 








Friday, November 28, 2014

Numb, Dumb, and High!

The events of this week have been weighing on my spirit.  Not for any reasons different for most and many that are.  It's incredibly challenging to manage feelings for something going on in the world that resulted from injustice while living the results of the same roots of madness yourself.  Yes, I don't have the extreme of a murdered black youth lying in the street AND I do have the walking zombie whose spirit has already been snatched.  I heard Al Sharpton claim our spirit has not broken, just bent.  Bend how far before it breaks?  I think we have long ago past the breaking point and continue to show signs of our brokenness.  I think most of what we do when reacting to a broken system is how people respond when they are broken and don't know it yet.  Addressing that toll on the spirit, the rerun we are in that rarely results in something different, seems so shallow an expectation to hold after experiencing the tragedies black people endure in North America as a result of white supremacy.  Hearing the rhetoric that labels our feelings as irrational, or something we should learn to get over, seems exhausting.  I get why survival would have me just stay Numb, Dumb, and High in order to manage it all.

Why engage?  Why get involved?  Why bother?  Simplistically complex -- there are not easy answers to complex feelings, layers of upset that make the body, mind, and spirit physically react leading to a FIGHT or FLIGHT response.  I was saved from spiralling into depression this week by a Mexican Proverb:
"They tried to bury us but the didn't know we were seeds!"

With each generation, a contribution, a legacy has been left that forces movement, transformation.  If what I believe is TRUE, people can not remain blind to injustice forever.  For those who experience it, the pace of change will never be fast enough.  There will never be enough to anesthetize the pain of the festering wound.  There will always be allies who empathize and are activated into action.  There will always be young people, not yet cynical and jaded, still piss'n fire, whose back's the revolution will occur on.  There will always be those who will offer their sacrifices to the cause.  And the cycle and cypher will continue to present opportunity to defend the DREAM.


And the minds who will work to create anew from the ashes of the old will be revealed.  Justice cannot afford to remain blind to oppression being one of the greatest motivating and innovative forces in the history of the world.  Cigarillos, Toy Guns, Dark Hallways, Loud Music, Hoodies, Lousy Cigarettes, Skittles, A Wallet, Iced Tea, Wrong Turns, Wrong Neighbourhoods, Picking up Your Kids, Bachelor Party, Poor Choice, No Choice, Any Choice, Defending Yourself, can't stop the show.  They all stand as examples of one understanding so awesomely articulated by my friend Deborah Peterson Small:

"White Supremacy should be treated as a public health crisis that endangers all of our lives in order to maintain the status quo"

It comes with heavy doses of HISTORIC AMNESIA so we victim blame and we commit 'Wag-the-Dog' distraction techniques fanning the flames of hopelessness so we don't fight back in the ways we can.  Instead, we fight each other.  It cements us in our Privilege, ignoring TRUTHS we don't want to face building up our apathy so there is no fight at all in the century of self.

It's all an illusion.  You see, on many days I do wish I had taken the BLUE PILL so I too can walk around in the general malaise and apathy of blissful ignorance, numb and high inside of the Matrix.  But I didn't.  I took the RED PILL.  I chose!!!!!  I chose my right to DREAM.  To DREAM a world I have the power to make real.  Not for any other reason than my unwillingness to sacrifice another generation of young people to some BULLSHIT!!!!!

Revolution will happen on the backs of young people and I'd rather see young people ready themselves to stand in their greatness then to lie in the street helplessly believing this is their fate.  So, as I manage trying to find a home for my homeless feelings, I know,

"Justice is What LOVE looks like In Public"- Cornel West 


Sunday, September 28, 2014

Some Shit!




Shrimp/Prawns
Catfish
good healthy organically grown vegetables​/fruit
Shawshank Redemption

Short list of things that I love that grow from some shit! 
Andy Dufresne crawled through 3 miles of shit to get to his freedom. 
The perfect storm to wake the fuck up to the lusciousness that awaits me if I'm ready to walk through my shit,
some shit! 

Every morning, in the space of silence, I look at my shit to make sure I'm healthy. 
I know if I don't have that moment, my day will be full of shit. 
So I have to let the shit out. 
When I let go of some shit, I feel so much better.
When I'm not ready to let go of my shit, that shit stays with me.
Holy crap! 
I love this shit!
I love you all!


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#BeMoreCommUNITY

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Mc's Commencement Opening - Class of 2014

Every school year I hope there is a lesson that can be an opportunity for me to reflect on my own life.  This year, I was fortunate to receive that gift from two places.  One came from a former student who is living in Romania playing professional basketball.  The other came from a current student.

In the middle of the night, I received a message from a former student.  It has simple question: "How is good coaching good parenting?

My answer to him was the following: "It comes with the same accountability that balances providing someone with opportunities to be their greatness while at the same time nurturing that person to believe something that is only possible in the moment.  Coaches and parents believe what you say you want and then put you in a position to achieve it."

Can I ask the entire staff of Woodroffe HS to please stand?

These are the people who for four plus years have held you up, supported, and nurtured you toward a possibility that didn't exist when you said it.  These are the people who came to work every day with a commitment to provide you with as rich an experience as possible such that you could discover something about yourself along the way.  They coached you when there was no light in the tunnel and an end was far away.  They held you could do it even when it was only a possibility!  I am proud to be part of a staff of committed passionate people!  Thank you!

The other lesson came from a current student who after a turbulent time, she came up to me and declared, "Miss, I'm always under construction!"  We are all always under construction.  The Me I was when I walked through these doors 16 yrs ago is not the ME I am today.  The you you are now is not the you you were when you walked in these doors four or five years ago.  Four or five years ago when you were a fresh faced grade nine student, there was a hope we all held for you.  Each and every one of us.  It was a start!

Class of 2014, Here you are again, at the 'Commencement' of a new opportunity.  Geared up to meet your new coaches who will support, nurture, and hold you in Love while you explore your potential once more wherever life's road carries you next.  Remember that you are always under construction, a precious work in progress.  Just like the Vanier Pkwy exit on the 417, the construction zone is ugly first.  We don't always see the final picture of what it's going to look like.  When the building is complete, the beauty that comes from what was created has us forget about all the work it took to get to the final product.  Don't forget about what it took to get here and always strive to be under construction, building and transforming the World!

Congratulations!

Miss Coddett

Monday, April 28, 2014

"The DNA of what we do will NOT change!" - Coach Dub

This weekend was an intriguing social experiment along the journey of coaching the lives of young men through basketball.  I'm not going to relive every upset associated with going 0-8 collectively, the events and decisions that brought us to that moment, and that we are soft as butter only pretending to be tough guys.  What's actually interesting to notice is how many times young men who lack confidence will use an excuse in order to never be required to fix what's really wrong - a slightly scary understanding considering that they believe basketball is part of their futures.  I liken it to what happens when there is a part of our body that stops functioning at full capacity.  We will create ways around it that provide the illusion we ARE functioning at 100% instead of the smarter step of seeing a doctor to find a cure versus just a fix.

This year's group of players has a huge case of that disease and their source of suffering lies in the gap (the gap that is created between where you think you are and where you actually are).  In practices during the week, they go through the training with similar struggle.  When they get in a game that translates into the experience of discomfort the comes from knowing how much better you could/should be but you're not.  Here's an example of what got me immediately present to the crazy this creates:

"Sir, why are you carrying your shoes in your hands when you have an almost empty bag to put them in?"  Answer: "I prefer to carry them in my hand because then they won't get lost."
WTF are you telling me?  Even when I said you're a rassoul and put them in your bag, he continued to assert his flawed logic and argument when it was met with another option.  He even may have had supporters for his flawed position who didn't possess the courage to back him up in the moment once they observed my freak out.  They would be, in that moment, choosing, like in the body example, to function at a lesser capacity then to be more efficient.

His was seemingly unable to even acknowledge the ridiculous of what he was doing as it was being pointed out.  This is just the tip of the iceberg for this group and generation of player.  There are always going to be moments given by life to test where you are at along your journey toward your own ideas / concepts of success.

DUMBNESIA - inability to acknowledge/ remember / recognize that what you did or said was dumb! (Source - #AfuaDictionary)
This was the word I created right after that child told me his dumbness.  It was the answer from the universe I had been requested in order to language what I have been experiencing from this group/generation of players.  His ridiculous was the inspiration but the experience of the whole team this year can be credited for the inspiration of the word.  He was just that moment's lesson.

Choosing.....

Scared over Courage
Failure over Success
Safety over Risk
Old over New
Bullshit over Sense
Not Try over Try
Easy over Hard
Self over Team
Bravado over Confidence
Fake over Real
Deception over Honesty
Lies over Truth
Take over Give

Somehow the consequences of Dumbnesia have supported the illusions that allow this team to be stuck in a place, faking a belief they are where they want to be OR they are going to get what they say the want OR they are going to get where they want to go.

The true sadness of a case of Dumbnesia is that many of these young men WILL get some of the things they say they want while never realizing how much they have missed because they were unwilling to challenge themselves beyond the pain caused by staying the same as they've always known.

If the fear of being NEW and BETTER is greater than the pain of staying the same as you've always known, then you will never get ALL of what is possible.  I actually know that.  Like KNOW it.....I think even a greedy person can see the logic of that so what would really be going on with a group of over 25 young men who seem unable or unwilling to see the bigger picture for their lives?  Why would I choose Mediocre over Greatness when Greatness is available?  Because it's HARD!

Well here's the NEWs FLASH - Important things are at stake here and we will not suffer a fool lightly.  "The DNA of what we do will not change." I AM Phoenix and I can say that because I WANT to be Great!  We are Phoenix.  We always RISE from the ASHES!



Friday, December 06, 2013

"I cry for Me!"

Yesterday, after anticipating it for most of this year every time he was required to enter the hospital, NELSON MANDELA Made his transition after 95 years of life in this form. 

"I cry for myself. The struggles we faced before today in a world that included you makes me scared for a world without you. Can I be as strong as you? Can I be as fearless and clear in my goals? Can I face the crazy with even an ounce of your humility? Can I face down hate with LOVE like you? I cry for Me and I SING that you are free!"

It was 5 pm and I was in deep sleep during my afternoon nap. My spirit woke me out of sleeping unconsciousness so I could get conscious to President Obama giving his remarks. I have to say it was quite awesome to watch the 1st Black President of the United States eulogize the 1st Black President of South Africa (representing two things I said would never happen in my lifetime). He said something about him being a figure for the ages. Perfection!  

After that I remember being overwhelmed by sadness. If the world filled with Racism and Hate, White Supremacy and White Privilege was like that with him, what are we going to do without him?  Will he become like the long list of other 'iconic' figures - MLK Jr, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, Medgar Evers, Toussaint L'Ouverture, Viola Desmond, Matthew Decosta etc - that history depicts as sanitized versions of themselves, trotted out as examples by the white elite for why the status quo should continue to be accepted. Examples used to fool us into thinking "racism is over", so why can't the rest of you get your act together?  For me that flies in the face of why they are 'iconic' figures in the first place. And at the same time, I'm clear that HISTORIC AMNESIA should have a pill that can fix it.  

A great example for why my fear existed in that moment was triggered by a 'slave auction' being used as an activity to engage students in something I can't figure out. Not sure how that would be fun or funny. 

Even as people who were opposed to Mandela originally, express today their sorrow for his passing, I'm challenged at finding and seeing the 'forgiveness' I know people say he would have given them. Not sure even if sitting in a jail cell for 27yrs could allow me to find it. I'm clear about what kind of work I would need to do in order to transform that trigger such that I can be my vision fulfilled. 

Standing in the shadow of what IS Nelson Mandela's legacy and contribution to the world, I add my voice and commit to being in action. Inequity, Injustice, Prejudice, Stop and Frisk, Racial Profiling, Inequity in Education are feed by Racism and a conscious and unconscious desire to maintain a privilege and supremacy that is ending ---> The Storm Is BEFORE the CALM. I can imagine the feelings of others throughout history who also experienced the death of an important individual who would later become 'iconic'. Will the legacy of their work continue to inspire? Do we need to idolize an individual in order for it to continue? Those of us who have been empowwred and inspired, can we put together what we need to move forward and with courage, speak truth to power? 

I cry for ME!

I SING YOU ARE FREE!

I SING TO FREE ME!





"Difficulties break some men but make others"

Standing in that knowledge for myself, I know there is HOPE, even for me....

"I came to accept that I have no right whatsoever to judge others in terms of my own customs."

"Great anger and violence can never bold a nation. We are striving to proceed in a manner and towards a result, which will ensure that ALL our people, both black and white, emerge as victors." 

NELSON MANDELA 


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#BeMoreCommUNITY

Saturday, July 13, 2013

TM...I

I came outside and the evening is still,
like nothing is different,
like the world has not been dramatically changed.
Just another day!

I want someone to acknowledge my pain
after all,
it's written all over my face. Maybe the chocolate covering
hides it too deep.

History has shown
I've had this feeling before more times than I care to mention.
Sometimes I acted. Sometimes I didn't.
Each a choice of preservation.

I want my psychology to be free too
AND
what's done does not change the path or direction I'm headed in
a Proactive overstanding.

Maybe others will see the value that comes from
never waiting for terrible to arrive
BUT to celebrate the urgency of NOW!

I can not tweet my way to freedom
BUT I can be my vision fulfilled.
I can #BeMoreCommUnity
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