The Unspoken Things

I didn't appreciate all the things my parents had imparted to me until I began to have my own children.  Suddenly it was important to think about what I wanted them to know and be able to do.  There were other things I wanted them to avoid like the plague.  With my first son, we were careful to talk to him in the womb and read to him regularly, everything from children's books to passages from the Bible.  Growing up, language acquisition was a critical skill.  My parents read to us as small children.  They read for hours to themselves and encouraged us to do the same.  To be honest, as one son became a toddler and the other was born, I could think of no skill greater than that of communication in both the written and spoken word.  

My husband and I spoke to our children in complete sentences from the time they were born.  We were determined not to be the parents who tried to mimic baby sounds or use choppy, incomplete phrases to communicate.  We believed our boys would learn to speak faster and better if we spoke to them as if they were already grown up.  In the same way, we believed they would learn to read by listening to us read books to them, watching us read books with complete sentences and mimicking us as we read stories for a second and third time.

It was not until we acquired my niece when she was six that I began to fully understand what my parents had imparted to me and what I had already imparted to my two boys without being at all aware.  The reality hit home when my youngest son came home from kindergarten one day and announced that he would be attending the University of Washington when he graduated from high school.  Wow!  What a lofty goal for such a young boy!  Although my husband was a graduate of Oregon State University and therefore a definite non-fan of UW, we were both impressed that Israel had already made such an important decision. 

That evening we were sitting around the dinner table talking about the day.  I asked Israel to share with the other two children about his "college plans".  He announced to everyone that he would be attending UW in the future.  I followed his statement with the question, "What to do you plan to study there?"  Now, I hadn't exactly expected a response to this question, but he responded with only a slight hesitation.

"Computers," he said.  He informed us that he was really good with them ("even better than you, Mom") and that's what he really wanted to study.

Of course it made sense to go around the table and let each of the children give us their current college plans.  You never want to highlight one child without giving the others the opportunity to shine as well.  Malachi, who was seven years old at the time, wasn't sure exactly where he wanted to go, but he was a big fan of Oregon State, his daddy's alma mater, and thought he would consider that.  As to what he would study, that was still "up in the air."  He was trying to figure out how he could play sports like his mommy and be a pastor like his daddy.  Was there some specific degree he could get that would allow him to do that?  Well, that lead into a number of discussions with the end result that Malachi was confident he would some day attend OSU and have a clearer plan for his future.

Next in line was Reneeka.  Unlike Malachi who had jumped in with little hesitation, Reneeka was speechless and a little perplexed.  "What was the question?" she asked.  We repeated the question and she sat in silence again, more perplexed than ever.  Before we could nudge her or give her suggestions, she said with much resignation, "I'm not going to college.  College is too hard." Her whole countenance changed.  Her shoulders slumped and she sank down in her chair, obviously discouraged by the mere thought of a future in higher education.

I was stumped, mortified even.  "What makes you think you can't go to college?  How do you know it's too hard?  You've never been to college," I said.

"My mom tried college and she didn't make it, so I figure I won't make it either." 

Suddenly I realized that some of the most important lessons we learn in our homes are learned not by being lectured but by watching the successes and failures of those around us - our mothers and fathers, our brothers and cousins.  I had seen my parents succeed academically - my mother with a BA and my father with a Master's.  I had seen the impact of my parents' education on the career opportunities that just seemed to present themselves when necessary.   Reneeka had seen her mother fail in her endeavor to become educated, as she had also seen her mother lose every job she ever acquired.  Reneeka had already "learned" by six years old that she would never become a good college student and probably never a good employee.  My boys, on the other hand, had plenty of examples of college and career success stories, from their mother and father to their grandparents, uncles and aunts. 

I was suddenly gripped by the magnitude of what our boys had already internalized just by being in our home.  Much of my husband's and my time in the past two years pre-Reneeka had been wrapped up in making sure my graduate work at Pacific Lutheran University was a success, making sure Mommy had time to finish her assignments.  Much of the adult conversations in our home had focused on the essays and textbooks I was reading to complete my teacher certification.  College was a regular part of our home conversation, and our boys had caught on that this was important, necessary even, for their future success.  Reneeka had missed out.  Her only exposure to college was the failure of her mother.

After the kids went to bed that night, there was an uneasy silence in our house.  My husband and I wandered aimlessly, our minds heavy in thought, our hearts heavy with the realization that Reneeka was already discouraged about something that had been such a great experience for us.  Eventually, we sat down on our bed and began to hash out our thoughts about what had happened at dinner that evening.  We were so proud of our Izzy who always seemed to be far ahead of his peers.  We were even excited about the prospect of Malachi following in both of our footsteps.  Inevitably we arrived at the conversation we knew must be had - what to do about Reneeka.  We knew something must be done.  We couldn't allow this six year old child to continue thinking there was no place for her in higher education.  We finally made the determination that we would intentionally make college a regular subject of conversation in our family.  All three children would know by the end of elementary school that college was not an option but an expectation.  The choice was "where to go", not "if I go."

That night as I lay in the darkness of my bedroom listening to my husband snore, the realities of Reneeka's struggle began to pale in comparison to the myriad students in my classrooms who had similar family experiences to hers.  How many of my students did I know whose parents had lost jobs this year or who had never graduated from college or who were in prison for drug trafficking of physical violence?  How many of the kids I worked with every day had already determined they didn't have a chance in college, so it wasn't even a consideration in their minds?  How many of my students had watched parents experience failure after failure without a hope of change?  I had begun to see a way that I could re-program Reneeka's mind, but I had her at my disposal for at least ten waking hours of the day.  I could control her environment to some extent.  I had to develop a plan that would work not only for my niece but for the hundred other kids I saw each day who deserved the same opportunity to succeed.

That night became a turning point in my life as a parent and my career as a middle school teacher.  I realized that night that we cannot afford as parents or as educators to wait until high school to begin talking about the importance, no, the necessity of higher education.  As Reneeka showed me, children's beliefs about their potential and their dreams for the future are established so early.  For those kids who have grown up in a home with educated parents, the average elementary student has probably already heard hundreds of references to college or to the habits and skills that will be necessary to participate in that experience.  However, for most of our students in urban communities, we may be their only hope of hearing about the joys and struggles of an academic life beyond high school. 

I made a goal to do several manageable things that could be accomplished with very little impact on curriculum.  I began with something as simple as putting up college banners around the classroom or wearing a college t-shirt on Fridays.  I used examples for writing prompts that drew from my experiences in college, both as an undergraduate and a graduate student.  One year I even had students do research on the college of their choice and then make oral presentations using a large poster as a visual aid that we put up around the room for the last month of school. I spent several periods talking with students about the differences between public and private institutions, between liberal arts colleges and technical schools. All students need to recognize that there is a place in higher education for everyone, no matter the background or academic track record. 

Fortunately for my niece, she has been able to experience Whitworth University with me as I worked part-time as a trainer of urban students who would be making the transition from the inner-city to the suburbs, the large public high school to the small private institution.  When we moved to Spokane to support those students from a distance, Reneeka was able to meet them all and even develop strong relationships with several who began to serve as regular baby sitters.  She even talks about attending this prestigious university some day.  What a transformation!

I wish I could say I have had the same success with my students.  As I stated previously, five hours a week for nine months of one year do not compare to the hundreds of hours I have with Reneeka.  Reneeka is able to attend concerts and games at Whitworth or Gonzaga every other month.  Our babysitters take her to eat dinner in the dining hall every time they babysit the children on campus.  Although many of my students have had the opportunity to visit one or two campuses for several hours each, they do not have the benefit of such extensive exposure.  I can only hope.  The great news is that three of my former middle school students from Tacoma were selected as recipients for the scholarship program at Whitworth last year.  Three of my former high school students from Spokane were accepted at Whitworth for the next school year.  I may not have made an impact on all of my students, but I've at least helped to beat a path, along with my colleagues, for some to follow.

The story does not end here.  As I began to develop curriculum to help urban Tacoma students prepare for the task ahead - the transition from a non-academic world to a highly academic one, from a multiethnic world to a predominantly white one - I realized that getting students to believe they could attend college was just one part of the puzzle.  There were so many other pieces that contributed to a student's success or failure at college. As part of the process of developing this curriculum, I began to take a look at my background and the skills and habits I had developed during my K-12 years.  I realized that some of the most important skills I learned that prepared me for college were not learned in a classroom but in my home.  My mother had taught me to make lists of tasks and to keep an agenda.  My father had taught me the love of reading and kept a log of every book he had ever read from the day he met my mother until today.  My parents were willing to persevere through tough professional situations, even when solutions did not readily present themselves.  Daily homework was an expectation, and I wasn't allowed to hang out with friends until every assignment was complete.  Most of these elements were missing in the urban kids I was preparing to attend college.  Many of them would be the first high school graduates in their families.  Some had never read a book from cover to cover.  Others had parents who had lived on welfare their entire adult lives.  How could I prepare them for the daunting responsibility of college life in an environment completely foreign to their experience?

As I tried to develop a plan to prepare these scholarship recipients for the world they were about to enter, I was reminded that my own niece, who had now lived in my house for almost three years, had already been programmed for future academic failure, not because her mother was a failure but because she was never able to see the benefits of education in her mother's life.  The measly three years she had lived with us paled in comparison to the significant time she had watched her mother try and fail, get a new job and get fired. The differences between my boys' mastery of syntax and reading fluency and Reneeka's were glaring.  The ease with which she was able to give up on difficult math problems was suddenly a big issue.  Five years in her mother's home had left her behind, and it had taken me two years to notice.  Something must be done ... but what?   Could she ever catch up?  What about my middle and high school students?

The good news is that Reneeka is progressing wonderfully.  She has now been in our home for six years.  She is flourishing in school.  She may not be the best student in her class, but she is reading at just above grade level.  She may continue to say "brung" instead of "bring", but she's not saying "aks" anymore for "ask" or "that's mines" for "that's mine."  She is learning that reading is not a luxury but a necessity.  She now takes pride in completing books that are longer than two hundred pages.  She actually looks for them instead of avoiding them.  She is proud of the fact that she is on her 14^th book for the school year.  She enjoys talking about her friends at Whitworth University and can actually imagine herself attending there some day.

With my students, every day is a new opportunity to shift their paradigms. Every class period brings with it opportunities to practice the skills of organization and higher order thinking that will be required in college and the workplace.  Every set back is an opportunity to teach students to get back up and start over.  I may not have any more time with my students now than I had 14 years ago when I started teaching, but I have definitely become more intentional with students about what I want them to "catch" from me and what I want to teach outright.  Take your students on a journey into the unknown.  Be intentional with every word and every action.  Believe for your students when they can't believe for themselves. Change our nation one life at a time!