What I Learned from Attending an APS Board Meeting

During my summer position at KIPP Metro Atlanta Schools, my manager suggested I make a list of goals to complete. I likely would’ve done this on my own, as I have done in the past, but it was nice to work through them with her. The last goal I had to complete was to attend at least 5 events related to KIPP outside of my everyday work duties.

The events I attended were:

1. An Education Teach-In led by the Director of Advocacy
2. A concert by the (very cute, and talented) STRIVE school choir
3. KIPP Atlanta Collegiate’s inaugural high school graduation ceremony
4. Observing a middle school science class and… last but not least…
5. The August 10th Atlanta Public Schools Board of Education meeting.

For those reading outside of Atlanta, there’s a lot to catch you up on. To make a long story short, think of all the issues surrounding underperforming schools, educational inequities, standardized testing, and you can find them in Georgia. Recent hot topics are the APS cheating scandal and Governor Deal’s Opportunity School District (OSD), which voters will have the ultimate say on in 2016.

Now that the sentencing trials of teachers and principals is mostly over and the commotion has died down surrounding the cheating scandal, there seems to be a lot of energy focused on OSD. Attending the Atlanta Board of Education (BOE) meeting gave me a first hand snapshot of just how opposed community members are to the the state takeover of persistently failing schools. Community members from all across Georgia attended the August 10 meeting to express their opposition to OSD. However, I didn’t catch any seriously compelling arguments about why, specifically an independent school district would be bad for the students. Adding another level of government to an already broken, unpopular system – sure, that’s an okay point. The fact that the BOE is unresponsive, lacks transparency and continues to cut funding in the city’s poorest neighborhoods – of course those are problems. Then, there’s the fact that the BOE has not taken a formal stance for or against OSD… but throughout all of the well-practiced, slightly tangential, emotionally-charged 2 or 4 minutes each community member spoke, I can’t recall anyone who was speaking out against OSD mention one thing: students.

Recovery school districts don’t have the best reputations in states like Louisiana and Tennessee, but you have to at least give some credit to leaders who are genuinely trying to create change. Do Jindal and Deal fall into this category? IDK! But I have heard anecdotal stories from Georgia parents who are simply fed.up. with failing schools and support OSD for this reason. If the local districts cannot produce quality education, it’s obvious something needs to change, right?

Well –  If this meeting could serve as a microcosm of the democratic process, it proves true that people are more likely to speak up when they are angry than when they are happy. Of the few positive messages shared, one of the only groups of people who mentioned their genuine care for the students of APS was a group of transportation engineers and school nutrition workers. Yup, the bus drivers and the cafeteria ladies came to show their support for the Board and even presented them with pins to show their appreciation and dedication.

Of course the thoughts/opinions here are my own and do not represent any organization’s whatsoever. I have a lot of reading up to do on statewide turnarounds so I don’t have strong feelings one way or the other yet. But I will say that attending a local Board of Education meeting was an enriching experience for me – especially as someone who never really considered jobs in education and was even warned to stay clear of the over-saturated field of do-gooders. If you find yourself working in the public sector or are interested in giving to an organization, I definitely recommend attending a board meeting. All board meetings for non-profits and school districts are open to the public for good reason – go learn more! Go see where your tax dollars are going! And for an added bonus, count how many times people actually reference their mission or the people they are trying to help.

Just for fun, here’s piece of evidence that shows just one of the good things that can come from independent schools.

KIPP STRIVE Primary School, LOVE (Let Our Voices Echo) from KIPP Foundation on Vimeo.

To Be Continued…

After over 30 hours of traveling this weekend, I’m finally back home in Virginia. When I got home from the airport, I started unpacking my suitcase full of gifts and explaining each one to my parents. During the process, my dad asked me how I would describe my whole experience in South Africa. After taking a second to think about the question, I responded, “It was good. But it was incomplete.” I looked up to my mom, who was kneeling on the floor with me, admiring the hand-carved pottery I bought in Port Elizabeth and said, “That’s why I have to go back.”

When my dad asked me to elaborate on my response, I had to explain the missing pieces. Yes, I made great friends and had a lot of fun, but I feel like those are self explanatory. That’s not what was missing.

Our class was titled, “Social Responsibility Enterprise and Education in Post Apartheid South Africa.” The substance of the class focused on the education system in Grahamstown and the disparities created by apartheid. It was pointed out to me during my own presentation on the ANC’s Reconstruction & Development Program that I didn’t mention the experience of colored people (those who are not white Afrikaaners nor African people). I did have some knowledge of the geographical area colored people in Grahamstown lived in. I interviewed two faculty members at Rhodes University’s geography department for my research and one of them, lecturer Philippa Irvine was gracious enough to share her master’s thesis with me.  It was on Post-Apartheid Racial Integration in Grahamstown from a time-geological perspective. Within the thesis, she mapped out the “Apartheid City Model,” the spatial dispositions of each racial group and corresponding economic class in the city. With the exception of this brief overview, I realized that colored people were generally excluded from our class discussions as a whole. We spent so much time in the township, there was little to no interaction with the Indian, colored or Afrikaans communities.

On the one hand, the way we spent our time makes sense. Black people are the dominant racial group in the country (based on numbers, of course) and therefore, most of the people we met would be of color. One the other hand, the way South Africans define “color” and the way it’s played out in political and social systems was not explored to the greatest extent possible. Although I don’t identify as mixed race, I do find value in including those who do into the greater conversation on race, apartheid and the “Rainbow Nation.” After all, we know upward mobility and economic status are linked to these historical policies all based on the color of one’s skin. We know the South African democracy is 20 years young and the government is sorting out it’s kinks – some of which may be more valid than others. Some of us who are sports fans may recognize the country for it’s recent role as host for some major tournaments, which brings with it international attention, national pride and many teachable moments. So, when I spoke to Ms. Irvine about the political and economic state of the country, one of the things she said to me was:

The problem is that change requires cash for the individual and our political transformation was just a political transformation. It wasn’t an economic transformation. The government has worked in the constraints of what our country looks like and how our economy is structured, but that’s not radical change. South Africa isn’t seeing radical change and it probably never will.

Reactions to the above statement might label her outlook anywhere on the spectrum from completely false to pessimistic to refreshingly realistic. Personally, I see it as intriguing, a motivator to study more and understand this unique emerging national economy. Since I don’t consider myself an economist by any means, I don’t want to ignore the power of experiential learning and how valuable it is to academic, professional and personal growth. If I learned anything on this trip, it’s that there’s so much I want to know more about – and not just “know,” but to see, to study and to understand. When it comes to education, whether formal or not, there is always more to be continued. I don’t think change needs to be radical, but can be incremental and impactful with time. Hopefully the work I will soon begin in Atlanta at the Georgia Justice Project and a neighborhood revitalization firm will add another layer of depth to my experience, which will one day lead to change on a scale I have yet to fathom.

Struggling.

Thursday was a rough day for me. I’m not sure what exactly triggered it, but I suddenly felt the emotional gravity of the week bear down on me. Before landing in Johannesburg, we were all warned about the vast economic disparities we would see in Grahamstown. We were told we were staying in a part of town many of the Inkululeko students’ families would never afford. We would see extreme poverty on top of wealth. While I did notice this on our trips back and forth from the township (housing extensions where most of the black community lives in poverty) to our hotel on High Street, I didn’t fully grasp the way socioeconomic disparities affect the community on not only a systematic but also a very personal level.

The view from the road on the way from the township into Grahamstown

Of course it is tough to see people living in tin shacks and no, I am not used to seeing high schools that may or may not have running water on any given day, but I didn’t take the time to decompress these experiences. It wasn’t until the second trip to Upstart, the community organization I’ll be working with for the next two weeks that I understood the deeper everyday implications of living in poverty. At Upstart, a handful of my peers and I met a young woman named Julie who had the opportunity to attend great schools while living in the township. Because of her educational background, she has what is called a Model C accent. In other words, she speaks clear English and her native accent is barely detected. This type of accent can be loosely related to code-switching in the US. Having a Model C accent makes a favorable impression on the population in power and may dissuade any questioning of one’s intelligence, compared to having a Xhosa accent. Julie told us stories of what it was like to take a taxi to school in Grahamstown, putting on her “White face” to be accepted by school friends, while at the same time struggling to find a level of social comfort upon returning to the township. She told us about similar identity crises township youth experience when they take responsibility for their education and try to break the cycle of poverty, yet are ostracized and bullied in their home communities for being “too smart” or “anti-social” for taking time to quietly read – an activity that was always encouraged in my own household.

The most jarring anecdote Julie told us was about a high school student who was applying to university but did not have a phone number to put down on her applications. Knowing she needed a cell phone in order to be reached regarding admissions decisions, the young woman “rented” a cell phone from a man in town. In order to keep using the phone, she had to have sex with him throughout the admissions process. Hearing stories of women using their bodies as a mode of trade is always a heavy subject and is not one to be taken lightly. The reason this particular story struck me was because this is what a young person felt they needed to do to apply for college. Though I know of students in the US who may have trouble paying for applications and might struggle to qualify for fee waivers, there is no way to picture such a thing happening stateside, at least not in any neighborhood I’ve been in. I don’t say this to emphasize how “unbelievable” or “crazy” people’s lives are in South Africa, but to try to put into perspective the physically and emotionally violent crimes accompanied with poverty. And in South Africa, poverty is inextricably linked to race.

With these thoughts in my head and with my heart heavy, I found it hard to get ready to attend the fundraiser dinner for Inkululeko. Although I knew I needed to be present at the event since I’m writing the copy for the organization’s annual report and had important people to meet, I didn’t feel stable enough to go out and mingle. I’ve been told many times that I need to work on fixing my face and hiding my emotions while in public and I realize this is a skill I need to work on. But at the time, it wasn’t a feeling that I wanted to ignore or put on a facade to hide. As odd as this may sound, I almost felt like I was having an epiphany of sorts. I desperately wanted to be alone and write, to sort out my thoughts and seriously contemplate the compounding issues I’d recently been exposed to. I found myself questioning a lot about my own life, systems in the US and SA, black consciousness, poverty and humanity as a whole. As both a writer and an introvert, I often find myself needing a lot of time alone and subsequently talk to myself very often. Unfortunately, I didn’t take the time to do so this last week, the week of my life I probably needed it most. Regardless, I got myself together and had a great time at the event. The timing of the fundraiser was aligned with my newfound realization of why it’s important to do the work we do. Although it can sometimes be easy to question the impact of non-profit organizations and philanthropic activities, it’s important to be reminded that the world will not change overnight. As Roger Domingo noted Friday on our visit to GADRA (Grahamstown Area Disaster Relief Association), change happens one person at a time, with the right person in the right place in the right time.

 

Sanele, Sino and me at An Evening with Inkululeko. Sanele is a native Grahamstonian, a student at Rhodes and head of the advisory board. Sino is a current Inkululeko learner.

My Introduction to Schools in Grahamstown

This morning marks my third full day in Grahamstown, South Africa. While I’m still trying to mentally compress everything I’ve experienced, I definitely want to share a little bit of what I’ve done so far.

The program coordinators have partnered with the Community Engagement (CE)  office at Rhodes University to help organize trips to volunteer/tour around the city of Grahamstown. Yesterday morning, I went to Luzuko Methodist Preschool outside of the township. On CE shuttle, I met a woman doing graduate studies at Rhodes and she was from Gwinnett County, Georgia – right outside of Atlanta, of all places. Speaking to her introduced the idea of going to graduate school overseas to me, but that is a topic for another day.

There was one staff member at the preschool named Pam. Although she said there were three full-time staff members, one woman was maternity leave and the other hadn’t reported to work in some time, so that left Pam to manage two classes by herself: one pre-K and one class of 2-3 year olds. The absence of the other staff members also meant Pam couldn’t perform her full job functions, which were supposed to include home visits with parents when appropriate situations arose.

The Luzuko Methodist Preschool

I spent about two hours with the class of 2-3 year olds and it goes without saying that they were absolutely adorable. Earlier in the day, my peers and I had a first hour-long Xhosa lesson so we had very minimal verbal communication skills. Although the language barrier was frustrating at times, we eventually realized it wasn’t necessary to communicate via verbal language. Matt, the Deputy Director and Curriculum Advisor of Inkululeko was with us in the classroom and he started leading songs and activities with the children with ease (he’s lived in SA for about 7 years, but is originally from the US). Seeing the comfort Matt had with the children started to rub off on the rest of the group. Although I couldn’t understand the words to the songs, it was easy to follow and I eventually caught on: these are the days of the week, these are the months of the year, this one is head-shoulders-knees-and toes, etc. With leadership from Matt and one of our community liaisons who served as a translator, we taught them the Itsy Bitsy Spider and head-shoulders-knees-and toes in English.

 

Pam provided commentary throughout the period, noting many recent years of classes have had trouble remembering some days of the week. For example, they remember Monday, Wednesday, Saturday and Saturday, but could not remember the others. She’s observed this trend for some time, but isn’t sure what the explanation behind it is. After reviewing the material, Pam said the children would dance to one song, have snack, use the toilets (there was no indoor plumbing in the main building,) and then have recess. When she put on the CD, Katy Perry’s “Roar” was the song that started playing, which we all enjoyed. Some of those little girls were really getting into dancing. I was so impressed.

At snack time, some of my peers were excited to see the children pull out healthy snacks from their backpacks: juice, apples, bananas and simple sandwiches. There weren’t any potato chips or fatty foods in sight. Michelle Obama would’ve been so happy. One of the little girls sat next to me and started chatting away. Without remembering any Xhosa besides molo for “hello,” I couldn’t do much but smile and nod. I noticed one of the girls sitting in a corner eating a boiled egg, but didn’t think twice about it. However, Pam said something to the young girl, and explained to us that she was from one of the more well-off families in the group. The school recently asked all of the parents to only pack fruits and simple foods in the lunches because the poorer children would not eat their own food if they saw students with better food than them; they were embarrassed. Receiving this information from Pam made me think of the most simple ways class is seen in society. I never would’ve thought an egg would draw attention as a sign of money, but these children noticed. Even at such a young age, they knew what was different and seemingly better. In what I interpreted as a similar attempt to ameliorate the display of class within the school, they also asked the parents to purchase uniforms for their learners. If they didn’t or couldn’t purchase the uniform, the parents were asked to take their children to another school. But all of the other preschools in the area implemented the same policy, so it was basically ineffective and the students went back to their original schools. The parents wouldn’t buy the uniforms regardless. I only observed a few learners wearing the black and purple uniform, but the girl with boiled eggs was one of them.

---

Today, I spent two hours at the Amasongo Career School, an alternative school for “street kids.” We received a tour of the school from the principal and met with the pottery teacher and one of his pupils. Many of my peers, including myself, purchased mugs, teapots, and other ceramic pieces. Half of the proceeds went to the Friends of the Amasongo School charity and the other half went to the student who made the piece. We all thought this was a great cause and the pottery was awesome. Although I have much more to say about my experience at Amasango, I will leave this link to further explain the school itself and perhaps elaborate more on the trip later.

Amasango Career School Seeks Adequate School Structures: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0K8cj-fUaa8