Abstract
The popularity of service-learning courses has dramatically increased in colleges and universities across the country. As these projects often require engagement with diverse communities of color, scholars of color in particular are faced with tension that requires a pedagogical balancing act of focusing on academic content while simultaneously attending to sensemaking of experiences. As sensemaking can be in part dialogic, this scholarship focuses on the critical readings of student journal entries and sensemaking of class dialogue at the end of the semester. I interrogate students’ discursive practices and textual representations by drawing on socio cultural theory and critical race theory in an attempt to learn how to critically structure future service-learning courses. Interpretations highlight that students’ discursive practices often omit views of how economic, political, and social structures impact individuals and communities. Unexamined discourses, varying ways of knowing, and positionality stances warrant disruption and engagement for the sake of civic participation in a democratic, justice-oriented, and culturally responsive manner.
Personal Reflexive Statement
In teaching an academic tutoring course with a service-learning component, I posit that students need to expand their thinking beyond reading and pedagogical strategies. As a result, emphasis is placed on the social context of schooling. Some of my students resist this and make problematic comments that as a Puerto Rican educator, whose life experiences are very similar to the experiences of the low-income, ethnic, and linguistically diverse children whom I work with in Boston Public Schools, are not only hurtful, but also steeped in problematic ideology. This has prompted me to establish counter spaces to meet, process, and analyze my pedagogical practice with like-minded colleagues. To facilitate our conversations, I decided to keep a journal of responses, my sensemaking of classroom interactions, and my critical readings of students’ journals.
Since the mid-sixties a great deal has been made of how language codes may affect early-schooling. These sociolinguistic issues involving racial and sociocultural backgrounds seem especially relevant for children learning to read.
When preparing undergraduate students to tutor at a local urban P-8 school and preschool through a Jumpstart Program, 1 a tension arises between the necessary time for teaching language acquisition and teaching strategies while simultaneously attending to students’ sensemaking of experiences. The training component is needed, as not attending to it can potentially undermine the very reason for engaging in a service-learning project in the first place: to help children acquire the literacy skills needed to succeed in school (Flowers and Temple 2009).
Although I believe that the focus on sensemaking is fitting, I am aware that it may come at a cost of not delivering enough course content. Additionally, focusing too much on sensemaking may risk alienation and resistance from multiple fronts based on another factor: who I am and how I am positioned in the classroom and in the academy. Nonetheless, I insist on focusing on sensemaking of experiences and not just on content. This pedagogical practice does not always align with that of my colleagues. Additionally, students, who may not immediately recognize the importance of examining social structures, power dynamics, and the saliency of race, may resist and at times even become confrontational. However, I see this as being integral to the learning process.
This content/sense-making balancing act highlights theoretical and pedagogical challenges to service learning (Butin 2010). The juxtaposition of focusing on academic content while sensemaking of experiences is a process that is often fraught with additional tension. More often than not, educational service-learning projects are in the backdrop of increasingly diverse communities of color that our students often describe as “poverty-stricken,” “tough/bad neighborhoods,” and “underresourced.” Such terms are often used to describe people who look and may even sound like how I used to sound prior to mastering the techniques of code-switching and acquiring the cultural capital that comes from formal education and rich social networks (Bourdieu 1977, 1992).
Most students are unaware that “new racism” 2 is an invisible system of dominion and power. Individuals may eschew being racist, but racism is built into knowledge production, institutional structures, and social relationships in insidious ways (Fazakarley 2009-2010; Fiske 1993, as cited in Cross 2005). Thus, in the context of the classroom I often face an “analogous dilemma” as some of these deficit oriented and stereotypical comments often leave me feeling vulnerable and can lead to conflict in how I respond to both verbal and written students’ responses (Butin 2010:53). A critical stance may also influence how students respond to me.
However, one particular semester the salient question for me was: “how do you respond to that?” At the end of the semester, I critically revisited my students’ journals to identify instances of “deficit thinking,” “color-blind ideology,” but also to highlight shifts toward “ideological becoming.” This article highlights moments that I felt warranted disruption and engagement in class, my sensemaking of the dialogic interaction that occurred and my critical examination of students’ journals after the seminar ended.
In the first section of this article, I explore the ideological and political function of institutional discourses used to define and position/reposition individuals and families of color (Luke 2002). I attend to this form of structural positioning and repositioning by drawing on critical race theory (CRT) to examine engagement in dialogical practices that constantly reshape the service-leaning project based on responses that emerge from our own lived experiences. I also contend that critical dialogic engagement is needed to promote multiple sites of struggle and layers of dialogue that affect our collective existential condition in the classroom (McKnight 2004). CRT scholars who focus on discourse are intent on interrogating the system of ideas and categories by which our society constructs and understands race and racism. We are interested in examining the role of ideas, thoughts, and unconscious discrimination (Delgado and Stefancic 2001). We are interested in going beyond simplistic discourses.
In the second section, I turn to the journal responses to identify instances of “deficit thinking,” “color-blind ideology,” but also highlight a participant’s shift toward “ideological becoming.” Like grammar, ideologies are learned socially and the rules of how and when to speak become normalized to individuals socialized in certain contexts (Bonilla-Silva 2006). By critically interrogating the participant’s verbal comments and journal responses, I contextualize and highlight moments that warranted disruption and further discussion. The research questions that guided this inquiry are as follows:
Theoretical Influences
Over the years, I have found it helpful to introduce socio cultural theory (SCT), which is a theory rooted in an anthropological understanding of culture. I tell my students that this theory provides a view of learning as socially constructed and mutually negotiated, and emphasizes exploring and understanding how students from diverse segments of society experience education due to differential access, cultural and linguistic repertoires. SCT places individuals and families squarely in the social context that involves their cultural, political, and economic realities, and allows for the exploration of social relationships and political realities embedded in institutional structures (Nieto 2010).
As a raced actor in the classroom, I also contend that “race still matters” (West 1993:12), and thus seek to disrupt and engage “myths, presuppositions, and received wisdoms that make up the common culture about race and that invariably render blacks and other minorities one-down” (Delgado 1995:xiv). By introducing CRT, I discuss that in a post-civil rights era, most individuals no longer subscribe to the tenets of the racial structure of the Jim Crow era (Bonilla-Silva 2006). I feel that educators need to be cognizant of racialized relationships as well as attentive to their own positionality in and outside of the classroom.
Language usage is important as it is through the concept of “voice” or “naming your reality” that CRT scholars link form and substance in scholarship. In education contexts, Ladson-Billings (2000) describes CRT’s relevance in discussing issues of curriculum, instruction, assessment, school funding, and desegregation. Working from this tradition entails the use of parables, chronicles, stories, counterstories, and revisionist histories to illustrate that our society is still deeply structured by racism, a notion that many of my students resist and challenge in a post-civil rights era (Delgado and Stefancic 2001).
For me, working with diverse students and families is a very personal endeavor (Cross 2005). I teach from the standpoint of my lived experiences, thus the educational stories I share are in the interest of helping to craft spaces where authentic discussions can ensue. In my experience, this may initially make students uncomfortable, but it signals that theorizing emerges from a very real place, one that drives our research and teaching. I share stories that are helpful in constructing multiple, complex truths that are powerful in pedagogical practice, and that can help in contextualizing experiences for students, and open the possibility of exploring other perspectives.
The process of uncovering and listening to voices of one’s lived reality offers unique viewpoints and themes that can significantly transform students’ lives. For me, exposing racism often means exposing myself and theorizing from my positionality as a member of the community in which I both work and research. I insist on this stance because I believe in the importance of exposing the underlying racism that exists in the conceptualizations of families of color and in challenging deficit models of thinking (Hidalgo 1999). Discussing lived reality, culture, race, class, and gender experiences within certain contexts allows for meaningful classroom dialogue that pushes the binary of content and social context, especially in an era where the language of color-blindness is slippery, sometimes contradictory, and often times subtle, but heard nonetheless (Bonilla-Silva 2006). It is instrumental that students engage in dialogue with me not only as their professor but as a member of the community we collectively hope to “help.”
The concept of dialogism represents a theory and method of critical reflection that emphasizes examining how competing voices together can create social meaning. Such reflections represent the kind of thinking and learning students ought to engage in (Cruddas 2007). Sensemaking of ideas and observations are approached ontologically to emphasize standpoint and explore multiple truths. This requires co-structuring purposeful dialogic interactions which aim to create a space filled with contending views, and sometimes tension with the possibility that engaging in reflection and dialogue will allow our humanity to emerge and guide our learning together (Fielding 2006:312). This pedagogical stance is different from one in which a teacher may attempt to hide all of his or her ideological voices by appropriating what Huebner (1996) calls a technical language that claims moral and political neutrality; a language separated from the concrete individual who dwells alongside students in a classroom (McKnight 2004).
Critical educators ask students “to develop their democratic capacities: to question, to challenge, to make real decisions, to collectively solve problems” (Bigelow, Christensen, and Karp 1994:4). However, how are issues or democracy and specific problems framed and discussed within the context of the classroom? Who raises the issues and how are such issues raised/framed? It is important to note that words are value laden and they conjure images and feelings that are at times hard to hide. Therefore, how, when, and for what reason we engage students in dialogue are critical questions to ponder.
In addition to exploring, who poses the questions? It is not lost on me that I am racially exposed the minute I walk into the classroom. I am cognizant of the fact that who I am may affect how students respond, how the content is framed, and how open the in-class dialogue becomes. We all exist within a nexus of ideological relations in which certain terms are perceived and experienced much differently. Gee (1986, 1999, 2004) makes a distinction between what he identifies as “d” and “D” discourses. “d” discourses refer to the grammar of what is said and written. Discourses with a “D” refer to the ways of representing, believing, valuing, and participating with all of the sign systems that people have at their disposal. This distinction stresses that the form of language cannot exist independently of the function of language and the intention of speakers (Rogers 2004).
As such, I intentionally set out to co-construct a dialogic project that required attending to my own inner rhetoric as well as paying close attention not only to what students said, but how they said it and how they textually represented their experiences. According to Bakhtin (1984), Life by its very nature is dialogic. To live means to participate in dialogue: to ask questions, to heed, to respond, to agree, and so forth. In this dialogue, a person participates wholly and throughout his whole life: with his eyes, lips, hands, soul, spirit, which his whole body and deed. He invests his entire self in discourse and the discourse enters into a dialogic fabric of human life, into a world symposium. (p. 293)
Dialogism operates from the principle that resolution is not possible. From this perspective, dialogue is a messy cacophony of various possible authoritative voices vying for dominance. Only once this has been acknowledged can there be a chance to promote self-awareness and continuous conversation (Bakhtin 1981) which are not stifled by an expectation of closure as it is sometimes dictated by a planned lecture or carefully constructed syllabus (McKnight 2004).
Sensemaking and Data Collection
Data do not simply go “untouched by the researcher’s hands” (Silverman 2001:159). From the onset, the seminar was structured with a critical orientation and theoretically grounded in sociocultural theories that require a commitment to social justice, CRT, and critical theories of language. This called for an inquiry stance that attended to issues of inequities and equality, barriers and access, and poverty and privilege. The service-learning project was constructed with the assumption that collectively we would all contribute to a research project through our participation in the weekly seminar, work on-site, and through our verbal and written sensemaking of experiences. The emphasis on co-construction is useful to an orientation to data analysis that (1) rejects claims of objectivity; (2) locates the researcher’s generalizations; (3) considers the researcher’s and participants’ relative position and standpoints; (4) emphasizes reflexivity; (5) adopts sensitizing concepts such as power, privilege, equity, and oppression; and (6) remains alert to variation and difference (Bryant and Charmaz 2007; Charmaz 2006; Clarke 2005; Clarke and Friese 2007).
In educational research, it is important to recognize assumptions and biases brought to the research process (Lincoln and Guba 1986; Mertens 1998). As Harper and Kuh (2007:6-7) maintain, “completely separating oneself from the research process is neither necessary nor possible; moreover, trying to be ‘objective’ often constrains one’s capacity to identify inequities and injustice, something sorely needed on contemporary college and university campuses.” As the semester progressed, I noticed that students glossed over issues of race, at times even rendering it invisible. I was surprised, given the topics discussed in the course and how much time was spent on asking students to consider and reflect on issues of race, class, gender, and privilege.
However, the “hunch” was that students had developed and adopted ways of discussing issues of race in what they commonly termed, “a PC (politically correct) way.” For example, it was not uncommon for students to qualify statements by saying “this may not be PC, but … ” I sought to disrupt this in class by asking students to pay attention to the language being used as well as to consider the myriad of ways language is used to position individuals and families, and challenged them to think of alternatives. This initial hunch prompted me to “push back” and take an even harder “critical stance” which often tended to silence students and was antithetical to my emphasis on dialogue. After a few sessions of intentionally bringing up issues from the journals, I opted to wait until all journals were submitted to conduct an analysis. Instead, I chose to rely on what the students were comfortable with sharing (stories from the field) and on our own sensemaking of those stories based on our collective experiences, knowledge of theories, and additional insight from the field placements, all while taking notes of how students shared their stories and responses.
I specifically focused on students’ journals, as much has been written about reflective journaling as a pedagogical tool in higher education (Clift, Houston, and Pugach 1990; Ross, Bondy, and Kyle 1993). Journaling remains one of the most useful tools for students and professors because written journals can serve as a vehicle for reflection before, during, and after a learning experience. When structured around class readings, discussions, and activities, it allows students and instructors to think critically and deeply about issues such as race, class, gender, and privilege by examining their beliefs, values, experiences, and assumptions about the subject matter at hand (Dyment and O’Connell 2011).
Institutional Context and Data Sources
Although located in a large urban city in the northeast, my university is considered a predominantly white institution, not at all representative of the communities in which most of the service-learning projects take place. The course is a credit bearing, undergraduate course that is structured around a 35-hour service-learning requirement. The students have the option of choosing their placement site: a local P-8 school or a subsidized preschool program that works in connection with the Jumpstart Program on campus.
Typically, the students I teach in this course are predominately white, middle-class females. During this particular semester, there were 15 students enrolled in the course, but only 10 opted to voluntarily complete a demographic questionnaire and submit their journals at the end of the semester (Table 1). Data collection occurred from September to December 2011. Data included 10 journals that combined comprised approximately 50 pages of journal responses to structured and unstructured class exercises. Students were asked to write about issues of diversity, race, and racism in education. At the end of the semester, after grades had been submitted, they were asked if they were willing to voluntarily submit their journals in order to participate in the research study.
Background Information of Service-learning Students Who Submitted Journals.
Interpretations of Discursive Practices
Guided by Gee’s (1999) definition of discourse as “ … an association of socially accepted ways of using language, other symbolic expressions and artifacts of thinking, feeling, believing, and valuing … ” (p. 144), I sought to specifically identify instances in which students had adopted “deficit-thinking” and “color-blind ideologies” to dialogically make sense of the children/families. However, I also highlight an example from a journal where I noticed a student’s shift toward “ideological becoming,” whereby she developed a stronger sense of her ideological subjectivities as evident in her writing as she made sense of her experiences within the ideological environment in which those were being discussed (Matusov 2007).
Cognizant of the limitations of my subjective rendering, I acknowledge many possible interpretations. I purposefully situate students’ discursive accounts and provide additional information that includes my own sensemaking and in-class verbal responses as recalled and noted in my reflective journal. The data are organized into stanzas, which are groups of lines about a single topic, event, image, or perspective. The function of a stanza is to mark perspective. At the beginning of each stanza, a new point of view is taken either by means of a shift of focal participants or a change in time of framing of events, (Gee 1989). Due to my critical orientation, I push the boundary by going beyond textual representation and instead analyzing the data through a CRT lens as this offers the potential to contribute significantly to the analyzing of societal structures.
Deficit Thinking
Deficit perspectives must be recognized and analyzed, as they are detrimental and based in stereotypes. These perspectives ascribe individuals’ “failure” to the deficits and problems of people from marginalized communities rather than to inequities in access and opportunities (Rank 2005; Tozer 2000). In the context of the classroom, providing students with diverse perspectives to consider allows for the inclusion of additional semiotic resources, which allows for deeper discussion, dialogue, and debate that increases the possibilities for cognitive and critical thinking (Vadeboncoeur and Luke 2004).
In the following stanza, Amy, a white female student, commented on her first day of fieldwork at the P-8 urban school only a few weeks into the seminar; by this time, we had already discussed the demographics of the school. Additionally, we had begun discussing some of the larger debates with respect to linguistic diversity in U.S. schools. In responding to the prompt, “so, how did it go?” Amy commented, There is a lot of diversity in the classroom. However, all the students are great at speaking English.
There are no problems. [emphasis added]
While her comments may seem benign, when couched in the national debates over native language maintenance, her comments speak to the prevailing hegemonic ideology of English monolingualism as a keystone of Americanness that has come to dominate public discourse (Pavlenko 2002). This shift in language ideologies has given support to the English-only movement in the United States, including the state where this study took place. This is an issue of concern, as language is an essential part of culture and identity and the growing tide of nativist sentiments also includes immigration controls and restrictions (Delgado and Stefancic 2001).
The notion that “there are no problems” supports an ideological belief that presumably problems would exist if the students were not “great at speaking English.” In response, the following prodding questions were asked: “Do you think all of the students are great at speaking English?” “If not, how do we attend to those students in an effort to support their language acquisition and thus English fluency?” “What do you think about the fact that too often students are classified as proficient in English on the basis of their oral rather than academic language proficiency?” “On average, it takes four to seven years for English Language Learners (ELLs) students to become proficient in the kind of language used in textbooks—how can educators then support their oral fluency while making sure they also have access to academic content?” “Can this truly be achieved in a state that has adopted a sink or swim policy when it comes to learning English?” (Nieto 2010).
The intent was on repositioning our roles in the construction of classroom discourse, opening a space where what counts as knowledge is shifted away from inert information passively received from books and toward dynamic understanding that is collaboratively constructed by attending to the social context in which the discussions are taking place (Cazden and Beck 2003). In the social context of this discussion, Latino/Latina students comprised the majority of ELL in the urban district. After the adoption of English-only legislation, traditional bilingual programs were eliminated and the majority of these children continued to lag behind academically. Therefore, insisting on a deeper exploration of what it means to be “great at speaking English” and social, economic, and political implications of this feat is one that all preservice teachers should engage in. This is significant, given the degree to which teachers are prepared to effectively integrate uneven language competencies while valuing/evaluating them as an asset in the context of standardized tests and other accountability measures (Lesaux and Pierce 2010; Stevens 2009). The linguistic diversity that ethnic minorities possess is often viewed as a deficit as opposed to a potential benefit despite reports that purport the importance of acquiring linguistic skills for twenty-first-century jobs.
Amy’s value judgment comment needed to be disrupted in order to engage more complicated discourses about the role of educators and the linguistic needs of students in a context where this issue has been highly politicized. Understanding and responding to deficit theories are important because they assume that some children, because of genetic, cultural, or experiential differences, are inferior to other children. This ideology is problematic as it places complete responsibility on the individual and ignores a systemic analysis (Nieto 2010; Pica-Smith and Veloria 2012).
In a written excerpt, Diana, a multiracial student, represents an epistemological orientation of what constitutes enriching literacy activities in children’s lives. The deficit assumption is that some parents are to blame for not enriching their children with linguistic structure and for not investing the time to figure out which repertoire of literacy skills would enrich their lives the most. In response to why she wanted to conduct research on literacy acquisition, Diana responded: Some children struggle with literacy especially due to the fact that their parents do not enrich them with vocabulary or structure. They do not invest the time in their children’s lives not even to figure out the best ways of enriching children to their upmost capacity. [emphasis added]
Unlike Amy, Diana worked in a subsidized preschool where the languages supported are English, Spanish, French, Portuguese, Haitian Creole, and Cape Verdean Portuguese. Despite the diversity of languages, most of the children at the center are racially classified as black, or what has become customary in educational discourse given the diversity of ethnicities: black and brown children. While there is no denying that “some children” do in fact “struggle with literacy,” the assumption is that this is due “to the fact that their parents do not enrich them” presumably with the rich “vocabulary” and “structure” that is valued in schools, institutions that operate as sites of subject formation of individuals that reflect larger state-driven, ideological goals (Althusser 1971).
“They do not invest,” the “time to figure out … ” these utterances signal a way of being and behaving that is valuable and marketable in a capitalist society, where class stratification is reproduced. Cultural reproduction theories concern themselves with the way class structures are reproduced through an analysis of processes and practices (Bourdieu 1977, 1992; Foucault 1972). Attending to her response begged the questions, that is, which practices are more valuable, enriching, and who decides? How do we work with children and families who may come from communities of practice where official knowledge is not the norm (Apple 1993)? Yet, these children and families possess sophisticated language skills that may not be recognized and worse yet viewed as a deficit. How can we reshape the discourse to include views of diverse literacy skills and multi-literacies an asset? (The New London Group 1996).
This interaction called for an example of what is possible when children’s linguistic repertoires are valued and acknowledged. I then shared my experiences as a child coming to the United States from Puerto Rico with a limited number of English words. “My mother has a third grade education,” I told them. “She did not read to me often. Instead, my learning came from ‘cuentos’ (stories), ‘rememoración’ (to elicit memories of something), and ‘dichos’ (sayings)—this is the way she bonded with me, helped me make sense of situations, and imparted ‘conocimientos’ (knowledge, wisdom). I did not grow up with Dr. Seuss … but, this was her way of investing in me.”
This is an example of the personal tension I sometimes feel when responding to students from the standpoint of lived experiences. Moments like this are raw and elicit strong emotional responses, but students need to be confronted with what is possible, as no amount of theory can match an exposed, in the flesh self. For decades, multicultural educators such as Banks (2006), Gay (2000), and Nieto (1992) have called on educators to employ culturally relevant pedagogical methods. These methods draw on strengths students bring into the classroom by incorporating powerful stories, narratives, and counternarratives—as opposed to focusing on perceived deficits.
Color-blind Ideologies
According to Bonilla-Silva (2006), Color-blind ideologically refers to the way students adopt discourses to engage in dialogue that supports and defends social structures that privilege and normalize certain types of practices and knowledges. The central components of any dominant ideology are its frames or set paths for interpreting or making sense of information. Such set paths operate as “cul-de-sacs” because after people filter issues through them, they explain racial phenomena following a predictable route … dominant frames, therefore, provide the intellectual road map used by rulers to navigate the always rocky road of domination … (p. 26).
As customary, at the beginning of each seminar, I asked students to comment on a critical moment, a salient observation from the field or a journal entry before they engaged the assigned reading for the week. Usually, students responded with a litany of mundane routines. Occasionally, however, students told complex vignettes that prompted the deviation from the weekly agenda to attend to the issue at hand. In the following excerpt, Lisa, a white female student, comments on something she “thought was odd” in the subsidized preschool: The only thing I thought was odd is that at one point we all put our hands in a circle, and the teacher went around saying, you are brown, you are brown, I’m brown, etc. going around in a circle, and when it was my turn she told the students I was brown
and told me that everyone in the classroom had to be brown.
I was not necessarily offended
considering I was the only white girl, but teaching the students everyone is brown, when they can clearly see other people aren’t I would think would be confusing to them. The second day, it was basically the same thing. [emphasis added]
When Lisa recounted this journal entry in class, she exclaimed, “I guess we are all brown during circle time,” with a sarcastic laugh. At that moment, it was hard to ascertain if this was due to her preoccupation with the preschool staffer adopting color-blind ideologies or to feelings of indignation she may have felt at being referred to as “brown.” She commented that “she was not necessarily offended,” which signals that there was part of her that was indeed offended, but why?
In the context of the classroom, this led to a conversation about color-blind ideologies and how they can be detrimental to all—including the children at the preschool. As it was highlighted by Lisa, “they can clearly see other people aren’t,” and she seemed to be concerned because it might be “confusing to them.” We discussed the need for additional training for preschool staffers who are often the lowest paid educators and who often lack the least amount of training in educational and developmental theories.
Like other white female participants in the study, Lisa also identified herself as “the only white girl.” Bonilla-Silva (2006), discusses whiteness as being “normal.” This discourse on white women may be related to normalization of race rather than the way in which some people of color view whiteness. White students may see themselves as raceless which why being classified as “brown” would have affected her. The possibility also exists that she felt indignant labeled as “brown,” which may speak to a larger issue with respect to the politics of phenotype.
Another example of a journal entry comes from Amy. When Amy commented on this journal entry in class, we took the time to not only discuss the incident and the societal implications but pedagogical approaches that would be helpful in their future practice. Last time I was at the P-8 School there was a problem with the teacher and a parent. One of the parents got upset because her daughter colored her portrait with a light crayon when she has dark skin. The mother thought that Ms. Gonsalve’s
3
should have corrected the student have her change her skin tone.
This really confused me
because I was unaware of what to think.
I do not think it was Ms. Gonsalve’s fault
and she shouldn’t have to tell her student to change her skin color. This shows how girls portray themselves as white females. Maybe this is because of society?
I don’t think it’s really a big deal that the student colored herself with light skin, because that is how she portrays herself.[emphasis added]
In this vignette, Amy is trying to make sense of “a problem” between the teacher and the parent. She was “really confused” and “unaware of what to think” about the problem. She brought up the issue to our classroom community where we had a responsibility to help her make sense of the “problem.” However, before we could broach the topic, she arrived at a partial resolution, “I do not think it was Ms. Gonsalve’s fault.” Amy then surmises that this is indicative of “how girls portray themselves as white females,” but ponders “maybe this is because of society?”
One of the central consequences of the high levels of social and spatial segregation and isolation from people of color is what Bonilla-Silva (2006) identifies as “white habitus,” a racialized, uninterrupted socialization process that conditions and creates whites’ racial taste, perceptions, feelings, and emotions, their views of racial matters, and even standards of beauty. It was great that Amy felt comfortable sharing that she was “confused”—not only was this a plea for help, but it spoke volumes of the dialogic space we had constructed. Additionally, it signaled a deeper reflection and an attempt to gain greater knowledge of her social surrounding. However, if left undisrupted, she would have left the classroom space with what she had already dialogically concluded, “I don’t think it’s really a big deal.”
Instead, she was both challenged and supported to revisit that conclusion. “Why do you think the parent was upset?” “Do you think it has anything to do with Ms. Gonsalve—who she is and her decision not to interfere with the girl’s creative process?” This last question needed to be unpacked because it was asked in an attempt to get at two issues previously discussed in class: that teacher’s racial background matters in a racialized society and that teaching is a political act (Freire 1970). Ms. Gonsalve is a light-skinned African woman and her pedagogical decision not to “correct” the girl has implications beyond the classroom. This vignette offered an opportunity to disrupt the black versus white binary and enter a conversation of social hierarchy based on phenotype, and which was the issue attended to first.
In an attempt to incorporate other voices and to support Amy’s sensemaking, a broader question was asked, “Has anyone heard of the term colorism?” Not everyone was familiar with the term, “it is also commonly known as the light versus dark skin issue, and that it had historical roots dating back to slavery,” I commented. At that moment, I knew that the students needed help in unpacking this further as those familiar with the school could make the connection to one of the previous questions: “Do you think it has anything to do with Ms. Gonsalve … ”
Amy, very courageously asked, “What if it was me?” “As a white teacher, I would not know what to do.” This question signaled to me that she has picked up on the critical issue of phenotype. This opened the door for us to embark on a pedagogical discussion that included the importance of understanding the social context in which one teaches, connecting instruction to the state-driven standards and exploring possible responses should students be confronted with similar types of situations.
Ideological Becoming
Ideological becoming can be usefully understood as a socially mediated process, in which individuals appropriate culturally constituted discursive resources. This can help explain how individuals develop a strong sense of authority in their writing and the various discourses they begin to appropriate (Matusov 2007). To illustrate this point, I decided to center on Taylor, the one student whose journal was most indicative of ideological becoming. The following vignettes are from Taylor’s journal.
She is a white female student who from the onset was very outspoken about her struggles to make sense of the racial discussions as it countered some of her previously held beliefs, and it challenged her to explore racial issues and tensions more deeply. Her journal exemplifies shifts in her thinking, salient moments that propelled her to expand on her standpoints, and her movement toward ideological becoming. At the time, Taylor was also enrolled in a culturally responsive course. It was very common for her to bring up issues from the other course into the service-learning project. She also participated in university-sponsored social justice trainings and lectures. Therefore, I highlight the following stanzas with the understanding that Taylor was engaging issues of race in multiple spaces, which may have influenced her in myriad ways. Early in the semester, Taylor wrote in her journal:
I try so hard not to offend
or see people for their race. Yet, they view me as some privileged white girl
who doesn’t know anything.[emphasis added]
Initially, she was very careful and guarded with her language, “I try so hard not to offend.” Her great intentions may have led her to adopt the language of color-blindness, “or see people for their race.” However, she distances herself by commenting that “they,” presumably people of color, view her as a “privileged white girl.” Ironically, she renders herself as raceless and intersects class. The “doesn’t know anything” comments come as a result of some of the pushback she was getting in the culturally responsive course due the language and the manner in which she described her involvement with the Jumpstart Program at the subsidized preschool.
An avid supporter of the program, she was always eager to talk about the program, her involvement with the program, and the children. She would often describe the program’s mission as “helping at-risk children.” When challenged on the use of such language, she struggled with how to frame her work and wrote about the need for alternative language, but more importantly, her willingness to acquire it. In ways not yet explored, she began to identify instances in which children and families were discursively framed as deficient. Midpoint in the semester, Taylor wrote in her journal: Working with Jumpstart I hear that style of thinking all of the time.
I believe this needs to change. [added emphasis]
The above-mentioned stanza was recorded in her journal after she attended a lecture during which deficit-oriented language was discussed as language that usually encodes for other factors such as race, class, and even pathologies. Throughout her journal, I noticed instances in which she began drawing on alternative language and even began adopting social justice oriented language. Subsequently, she comments on her “journey,” although in other sections in her journal she specifically refers to a “process” of becoming. My educational journey involves getting a better understanding about racism and how to best approach it. Though it saddens me to say I can’t help but to think and question
how deeply race is engrained into our entire society. [emphasis added]
Although saddened, Taylor wrote about her thinking and more importantly, questioned “how deeply race is engrained into our entire society.” She appeared to have made a shift from exploring race on an individual level, to a more systemic level. I was pleased to see this shift considering that Taylor will be working as an elementary school teacher at an urban school. The hope is that the intent on constructing a dialogic process in class has helped her move beyond the rhetoric of social justice to action by disrupting and engaging problematic discourses that affect how we work with children and families.
Discussion
Overall, traditional college age students have very limited background knowledge of and experiences with people who are culturally different from them, including teachers and professors (Chang, Astin, and Kim 2004). More problematic, however, is that research indicates that white preservice students have stereotypical beliefs about urban schools, communities, and children (Shultz, Neyhart, and Reck 1996; Su 1996, 1997) and possess very limited knowledge of racism and white privilege (Cochran-Smith 1995; King 1991 in Carter-Andrews 2009).
From my experience, students in my service-learning course are no different—including students who identify as students of color. At the beginning of the semester, I asked them: Why are you taking this course? Many expressed excitement about taking a service-learning course that would provide them with “real-life” experiences. Prior experience has taught me to proceed with caution, as there is an assumption that such experiences will automatically help them build identities as competent and engaged citizens in communities of practice beyond the classroom. My years of experience have taught me that this is not the case (Swaminathan 2007).
Others students ascribed their willingness in the following ways: “to do something meaningful,” “to work with ‘at-risk kids’,” and “to help out in some way.” While all of these are noble reasons for engaging in service learning, often embedded in these discursive rationales are deeply held assumptions, varying ways of knowing, and positionality stances that warrant disruption and engagement (Belenky et al. 1997). As a social and political movement, a critical stance should provide resources that include reflexivity, critical analysis, and interrogation (McLaren 2002). These resources should aid in the interrogation of Discourse models that help shape and organize important aspects of experiences for individuals and communities (Gee 2004). However, I often wonder: Can I really attend to all of the moments that warrant disruption? How can I better co-construct projects so that we all collectively share in the responsibility of pushing, stretching, and disrupting our thinking?
Beverly Tatum (2007) inquired, “what’s the relationship between wisdom and social justice?” (p. 107) Like her, I believe that justice seeking requires the recognition of multiple perspectives and the opportunity for thoughtful reflection and dialogue. Helping students expand on their ability to understand society from diverse perspectives lies at the heart of teaching (Roberts 2008 as cited in Massengill 2011). For me, this means co-constructing a strong discursive community whereby multiple voices enter into a space, in which they can be heard, acknowledged, affirmed, engaged, and contested (Matusov 2007).
Although I recognize the pedagogical importance of disrupting and engaging preconceived notions, I also recognize the tension this approach causes, as engagement in this type of practice emerges from a very personal place. This requires a delicate pedagogical balancing act, one that I am willing to engage in nonetheless with the hope that such a practice will lead to dialogic spaces where we struggle together to create new conceptualizations that are more reflective of the kind of communities, the kind of world, and the kind of changes we want our students to be part of (Cruddas 2007). I engage in this work with the hope that thoughtful reflection and dialogue can propel us to meaningful action beyond the walls of academia. I have learned to practice self-care by acknowledging the tensions embedded in my practice and by finding spaces to make sense of my classroom interactions and solicit critical feedback.
I now know that the answer to “how do I respond to that?” varies from time to time and is based on context and factors outside of the classroom. However, I have also learned that I do not always have to respond and can rely on the community of students. Despite tensions, there is no denying that power relationships exist and as the professor, I hold a lot of power. My intentions for future service-learning projects need to be on producing and negotiating shared meaning with the hope that the dialogic process will lead to a heightened understanding of complex social issues and an expansion of multiple standpoints (Bakhtin 1981).
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
