Sunday, February 22, 2009

Mathematics In the City

When I came MSU last semester, I became well acquainted with an adjunct at the school of mathematical sciences — one Eliza Leszczynski. The course I took with Eliza was College Geometry — a high school math course masquerading as a math methods course. While the class presented an enlightening departure from my dreary Ed Psych course and its pompous instructor, or my nebulous curriculum course which dabbled in mysticism and how I might reach my students with meditation, it wasn’t until I went to meet with Eliza personally that I discovered the real gems of taking a course with her. You see, while in class she presented us with math proofs on triangular numbers, beguiled us with circle inversion, and tickled us with fractals, outside of the classroom she introduced me to two math ideas I wasn’t likely to encounter in a pure maths class: Ethnomathematics and Social Justice Math.

Ethnomathematics is study of both mathematics and culture, or more importantly it’s the way that mathematics and culture interact and the study of this interaction. If you want to read about ethnomathematics’ origins and such, wikipedia has an informative article on the subject. In essence, it is one way to make math relevant to students by bridging what is usually a cold, unsympathetic subject with an aspect of students’ lives. It makes math relevant and a necessary part of one’s being.

Social Justice Math, on the other hand, is a school of mathematics instruction that argues that you can use math to understand and learn about issues of politics, economics and social justice. Contrarily, it also argues that you can use an understanding of these issues to attain stronger math literacy — in effect, to learn math. While critics argue that this form of instruction proselytizes the youth with strong biases from the left, social justice math provides students with the opportunity to judge the fairness and necessity of decisions made by our society based on statistics and mathematics facts. For a more detailed understanding of social justice math, visit radicalmath.org. Similar to ethnomathematics, social justice math also makes math relevant, but in a different way. Here, math becomes a tool for enabling students to understand the world in which they live, and the basis for the decisions that our culture makes.

When I first heard of both maths, I was scoffed at their use. In terms of urban education, however, I suspect that of the two, Social Justice Math might be more useful. Therefore, for my CI project, I would like to discover how Social Justice Math can be used in urban education. To this end, I feel that it would be terrific to have developed a website that could serve as a tool to using Social Justice Math in urban settings as well as garnering a better understanding of this school of thought and its uses.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

I, Too, Sing America

I, Too, Sing America

by Langston Hughes

I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.


While the assignment this week was to reflect on the major influences that shape schools in urban centers, I thought that I’d begin with this Langston Hughes poem as I feel that the themes central to the birth of the urban schools are reflective in the poem, and in general, in the lives of lower-income nonwhites, in particular African Americans, Latinos, and indigenous Americans. One of these central themes is exclusion. As in Fruchter’s book, Urban Schools Public Will whether it takes the form of segregation, suburban growth, or globalization, exclusion is a central influence in the shaping of the urban center and its schools. There can be no argument that prior to Brown, nonwhites (or more correctly non-WASPs) were excluded from many walks of life. We are all familiar with the photographs of the restaurants that excluded “coloreds,” as well as the stories of separate drinking fountains for whites and nonwhites. Less familiar --but just as important-- are the hotels, businesses, and clubs that were “restricted” — a term that referred to those organizations that restricted Jews from entrance.

While this exclusion became illegal in schools after Brown, it spurred on resistance from the dominant majority, or as Fruchter decides: the white majority. While one cannot refute that there was resistance in the south which in turn signaled the beginning of the Civil Rights movement, I remain unconvinced that this struggle was as simple as Fruchter paints it. I wonder if it was in fact some subset of white culture — in particular WASPs— that resisted. I digress.

Fruchter further argues that Brown helped contribute to suburban growth. While unfounded fear of African Americans is evident in both Fruchter’s vignette of life in Camden, as well as in documents from the era (cf. Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun), I question his claim that Brown’s inclusion of nonwhites in “white” schools was responsible for the exodus of middle-class and working-class families from the cities and into the suburbs during the 1950s and 60s.

Whatever the origins of this flight, there can be no doubt that by abandoning the urban centers for the greener pastures offered by suburbia (in accordance with the construction of highways and roads that separated the suburbs from the city, both literally and economically), has had a grave impact on the development of the urban centers and those schools that are found within. In this case, exclusion has lead to a diminishing of local funding for education. The results are obvious: Lacking the funds for proper education, schools and facilities within the urban centers will erode and fall into squalor; lacking these funds and the facilities in which to teach, students will not be prepared with the tools necessary to succeed in the modern world; lacking these tools, they and their progeny will not reach a higher-income level and be able to better themselves. In effect, this exclusion has created a serfdom composed mostly of African Americans, Latinos, and immigrants.

And it gets worse. In the more recent world, Fruchter argues that globalization continues what Brown and suburban growth began in the 1950s. In truth, globalization is but the newest incarnation of exclusion in the twenty-first century. With the departure of different industries (whether they be in manufacturing or labor) either overseas or to suburbia, there should be no surprise that low-income areas whose constituents have been abandoned by commerce, by industry, by most of society, and who have no legal prospects by which to better themselves have become easy targets for crime and vice.

Thus, from this crucible of exclusion comes the creation of schools in America’s urban centers. They are poor, crime-ridden areas that seem permanently broken, and not at all to their own fault. This undeniable situation begs poignant questions: When will tomorrow come; when will America’s darker brothers will be welcome at the table; when will they be seen as beautiful? When will they, too, be America?

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Frames of Media

Before delving heavily into each form of media and what I gleamed from those interpretations, I wanted to mention that I grew up in Southeast Asia, and attended all International/American private schools, so my view of American Public School is entirely dictated by the media. I have no firsthand experience. That said, I tried to write about media that others have not, but have found it difficult at best, and a disappointment at worst. What I have discovered, however, is that the major difference expressed among rural, suburban, and urban education in the media is the source of their conflicts.

Generally, media that deals with urban education focuses on external conflicts from the community and how these act as social barriers, or hurdles, for students to negotiate in order to succeed in their lives. While these will often focus on a teacher or students, the main source of conflict is between the students’ lives in school and the demands of their lives outside of school. Generally, the external forces involve difficult choices for minors that could drastically dictate the course of their lives.

Suburban education as it is portrayed in the media dwells less on immediate external societal pressures — like working in a factory to support the family — and more on school-centric conflicts. Media that focus on suburban education tend to dwell on the conflicts endemic on students bound for college, on relationships, and on social participation (cheerleading, dancing, sports, or band). Regarding this facet of the media, the attention tends to not be on the external social status of the student, but the internal social status and how the student negotiates to the desired goal (college, a date, making the state competition).

Finally, rural education as it is portrayed in the media tends to be either an extension of suburban education, tends to focus on more traditional Christian values, abuse, or can be a blending of both urban and suburban issues juxtaposed against the under-developed regions of the United States. The theme that “townsfolk” of rural America are naïve, backwards, and bumpkins, appears as well.

Film

Urban: Hoop Dreams

Hoop Dreams is the story of two boys from the Cabrini Green projects in Chicago who are recruited to St. Joseph’s High School in the Chicagoland suburbs to participate in St. Joe’s outstanding Basketball program. While some might argue that this is less a movie about urban education, and more one about the struggle of two inner-city youths as they negotiate school-life in the suburbs, I argue that as it is about two students from the inner city, each of whom deals with a wealth of extracurricular activities pertaining to their lives in Chicago amidst attending school and experiencing the wealth of activities therein related, that it can be classified as a film about urban education.

Suburban: Ping Pong

Having not attended school in Japan, I wasn’t sure if this was set in the city or in a suburb. However, as this movie is more concerned with two students and their time on the school ping pong team, I felt that it was more indicative of suburbia, than of urban life. In this movie, Peco is a brash high school ping pong player with a lot of spirit and talent, but no discipline. His close friend, Smile, is also on the team, and is much better than Peco, but lacks his friend’s enthusiasm: It’s just a game to him. In this movie, their coach tries to inspire Smile, but after much enthusiasm discovers that he has a better chance of inspiring him by treating him as a person, and less so as a student.

Rural: The Music Man

The Music Man is the story of con man Professor Harold Hill who arrives in the quiet Iowa town of River City under the guise of a band leader. His goal: To sell uniforms and band instruments to the town, and skip out with the profits. In this musical-turned-movie, the Iowans are seen as gullible, but also conservative Christians who fear the results of gambling. There isn’t a lot of education or formal teaching going on in this movie, short of piano lessons as given by local librarian Marian Paroo, we do see Hill inspiring many youths to join his band.

Television

Urban: The Wire, Season 4

Similar to Hoop Dreams in terms of problems the students encounter at home, season 4 of The Wire delves into the lives of four boys living in the slums of West Baltimore and new teacher, Prez, who tries to reach his students. Unlike the TV shows depicting suburbia or rural America (see below), the stakes in The Wire are higher: This show follows the lives of these four boys as they are lured into the drug trade and the ramifications these choices will have not only for them, but for the lives of those that intersect with their own.

Suburban: Saved By the Bell

Saved by the Bell is an idyllic show from the early 90s that focuses on a multicultural cast of teens attending a high school in middle-class, suburban America. Unlike most movies, the show is more student-centric, focusing on the hijinks of Zack and his friend Screech, their friends A.C., Jessie, Kelly, and Lisa, and their oft run-ins with Mr. Belding, the Principal of Bayside High School. Although teachers do appear in this show, they do little to propel conflict which generally occurred between Zack and AC, Zack and Mr. Belding, or as a result of a date gone awry.

Rural: 17 Kids and Counting

17 Kids and Counting is one of many reality TV shows that allow viewers to peer into the day-to-day lives of the Duggar Family, a 19-person family in rural Arkansas. While the show focuses more on family life than on school education, the show does on occasion present the Duggars home schooling and interviews the children and their mother, Michele, on their views of home schooling. During these interviews it is clear that the children are fully indoctrinated into their insular and orthodox lifestyle, and that their parents limit what media their children are allowed to experience.

News

Urban: “Computers Sought for City’s Kids,” Courier Post, Feb. 2, 2009

This article from the Courier Post focuses on the philanthropy of 20-year-old, native-born Camden resident, Jeffrey Jones, founder of Miracles Global, Inc. According to Jones, the purpose of the new nonprofit organization is “to collect, money or computers that will be given to Camden schools and eventually … to other ailing districts in the state and throughout the country.” While this article does not focus on teachers or students, it does focus on a member of the community (Jones) and his corporation through which he hopes to aid the students of the inner city. As is he says, "We're living in a globalized economy, a globalized world, and inner-city kids are being disconnected," he said. "They're at such an informational disadvantage."

Suburban: “East Longmeadow girls basketball team wins eighth straight game,” The Republican, January 30, 2009.

This article also doesn’t address students or teachers, directly, but does remind residents that East Longmeadow High School’s girls basketball team is now the number one girls basketball team in suburban West Massachusetts. The article also presents the rankings and scores of other teams in the region, as well as in other sports (hockey) and among preparatory schools. This article exemplifies many articles about suburban education by focusing on a product of education that is highly valued by that society.

Rural: “Parents: Cuts Will Hit Rural Schools Hardest,” Daily Press (Richmond, VA), January 27, 2009.

This article from the Daily Press, a newspaper out of Richmond, Virginia, addresses the effects of the dwindling economy on rural education. This article highlights how the state of Virginia has proposed eliminating all field trips from the budget of Matthews School (a community school in rural VA) as well as eliminating the positions of non-teaching staff (secretaries, janitors, and IT). Residents whose children attend the school are outraged, declaring that slashing field trips will diminish the quality of the education.

Music

Urban: Another Brick in the Wall

While this song does not directly mention that it takes place in an urban setting, the tone of the song suggests an abusive, totalitarian environment where students are no more than bricks that need to be hammered into place. In this song, the students are depicted as victims, while teachers are depicted as bullies. Given the rough, no-nonsense environment typically indicative of urban education, I feel this song can fit under this category.


Suburban: 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

While this is a musical, and not a song, per se, I felt it would be appropriate to place it in this category, as no one song really captures to me the whole idea of the musical itself. Unlike the previous song, this set of songs is based in the school gym of a (presumably) suburban middle school, in which 6 quirky contestants are competing in a county spelling bee, while moderated by 3 equally-quirky teachers. Students in this musical are portrayed as being overly self-conscious, highly intelligent, and highly diverse in terms of their backgrounds. The teachers on the other hand are less uniform and more problematic: one is a former winner, re-living her glory days through the students, one is an apathetic ex-con, and the last is a nervous vice-principal who as feelings for the first teacher. While the play is clearly a satire of school, adolescence, and the characters in suburban school, it also represents a neat analysis of our frames of reference and how we view the education in suburbia.

Rural: Broken Heartland

Broken Heartland is a country song that depicts rural America as a place where everything is changing, and living is hard. The song focuses on a lone farmer whose children have left for college where they can get an education that will get them off the farm. The song also illustrates that rural America is being torn-up and put aside to make way for the hegemony of suburbia, evident by the foreclosure on the farmer’s land and the building of a new mall.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Frames of Reference

When I think of teachers, I do not think of community leaders, or of role models. I do not think of all the varied problems with which they must face daily, or of the tremendous responsibility that they wield. Instead, when I think of teachers, what comes to mind is not their great abilities, but their lack thereof. As a student, however, I did not harbor any such feelings. At that age, teachers were paragons of the community — they were the standards by which the community should elevate itself. Anyone who took it upon herself to teach another should be applauded for her philanthropy and selflessness. All of this changed, however, when I became an editor of mathematics.

As an editor, I discovered that most teachers are not the paragons of ability I had originally believed. It was like the day I had discovered that Santa Claus was not real. I was mortified. To my chagrin, very few teachers of math actually know the math they teach. In the realm of mathematics, many teachers cannot find pi on a number line, let alone understand the concept of irrational numbers— those of nonterminating, nonrepeating decimals. Many have trouble understanding the difference between fractions, rates, odds, and percents, further lacking the facility to explain this difference to students. Most teachers specialize in teaching, not mathematics, and so know little more of the subject than their students. This allows for conceptual misunderstandings which when transcended to their students, expounds errors further. Since coming to Montclair State, I have discovered this is not true for all teachers of math, yet the reality is clear: Teachers are no more special than any other specialized group of professionals — some know the field better than others; to be an exemplar of the group requires work, patience, and desire.

Unlike my view of teachers, I view school and students with more of a balanced frame. In an ideal world, school is the stage upon which the future (students) begins. It is a crucible into which students arrive with preconceived notions, where these students challenge orthodoxies, and are challenged by tenants that may run orthogonally to their own views; as graduates, these students exit as young leaders ready assume their responsibilities in civilian life. From my experiences as a student, however, school is far more complicated. While schools can be benevolent centers of possibility, they are also troubling locales where bureaucracy rules, where internal politics can prevent the occurrence of good teaching, and where strife between administrators and unions can interfere with the main purpose of the institution — the education of the student. Open a local newspaper sometime, or stop to talk to the disgruntled teachers picketing outside the local train station; schools, despite their austere appearance are centers for internal brouhahas and political scrimmages.

At the same time, students are a complicated lot. Amid all their potential, there is equally the likelihood that they may turn to vice, to crime, or to apathy. Middle school and high school are self-conscious periods in students’ lives. For me, middle school was a period of fights, of visiting the principal’s office, and meeting with the school counselor. High school was about discovering who I was and what I wanted from life. Both were periods of great transition. Truly, students’ search for meaning to life and their part in it begins here. They want desperately to belong to something of their own making or choice. At the same time, they are unsure if they can trust the opportunities presented at school. Some students seize these opportunities with great excitement. Others examine them hesitantly, skepticism eliminating their curiosity. Many depart school, drawn away by more appealing —or necessary— opportunities that lie outside of the realm of academics. Taken altogether, it is an upsetting picture.

At the heart of all these topics —teachers, students, and schools— is the urban center. Referred colloquially as the inner city, Random House Dictionary defines this area as “an older part of a city, densely populated and usually deteriorating, inhabited mainly by poor, often minority, groups.” It is more than that. It is the culture where students live, where the school resides, where teachers work. It is the society where teachers and students come together under the auspices of a school. It is full of possibility, even if it exists amid congestion, crime, broken homes, and low-income families.

Examining all these factors together, one might assume that I would shy away from teaching in the inner city — many of its teachers lack the necessary education to enable learning, the schools do not engender learning, the student drop-out rate is staggering, and the neighborhood has been abandoned by the municipality to drug lords, gangs, and other vices. It paints a grim picture, indeed.

Knowing that teachers in the inner city may be ill-prepared to teach, you might guess that I would look down upon my cohorts in teaching. On the contrary, I see it as a call to aid my future peers in teaching. As a fellow teacher, I hope that I can be the peer whom they can call upon to garner a better understanding of mathematics, while also learning from them what it is to be a teacher. After all, no amount of theory and methods can completely prepare a pre-service teacher for actual service. Further, I know that my opinion of teachers will propel me to be a better teacher in terms of instruction, accessibility, and support of my students. This leads me to my feelings on students and how I will interact with them.

Knowing of the struggle that many students face in secondary school, I see it as my duty as an enabler of learning to provide content and an atmosphere conducive to their needs. It is my feeling that many students turn from school due to inaccessibility and lack of structure. Not only does much of school seem irrelevant, it does not address their needs. When your parents are absent, and your younger sister is pregnant, homework seems trivial, especially if it has no relation to you, and seems to provide you with little assistance to your troubles. Without the necessary support from their teachers, it is no wonder students drop out.

It further seems necessary to negotiate a fair structure and topics with students. Mathematics is generally considered the hardest of subjects, mostly due to its inaccessibility. It is a language that never gets the same level of attention in its mastery as English or Spanish. Due to this lack of facility, many students “check out.” They decide that it is too difficult to learn. Who can blame them? Most textbooks and instruction show no relation to the real world. It is all about symbols and numbers. It is all about people getting on-and-off a pair of trains, each traveling 60 miles per hour in opposite directions. What does this have to do with their lives? I feel it my duty to make that connection with students. Math is more than just irrelevant facts and common story structures. It is a way of thinking. Therefore, it is my duty as a teacher to negotiate with my students what we study in mathematics within a natural frame such as algebra, or geometry, or trig. It is further my duty to bring meaning to the subject so that they might see how it relates to their lives, and how knowing it can provide them with an added edge in life.

Taken together, I believe that these assumptions and beliefs will help force me into a nurturing professional that strives to make mathematics accessible, meaningful, and useful. It will force me to create classrooms that are reflections of the society that my students will someday help to create. It is my hope that these will be unique classrooms where my students will engage in projects that relate both to mathematics and to their lives, enabling them not only to appreciate mathematics’s place in the world, but also arming them with the tools they will need to be active, thinking members of society.