by Ilana Garon
Even if I were so inclined, I couldn’t attribute my students’ academic troubles more directly to any particular ethnic group than any other; there are kids of every different background in our school building. The majority are either Latino and black—American, from island nations like Jamaica, or from Africa. But a sizeable portion of my students are also from the Balkan nations. Then there are some who are Asian, some who are Italian, and some whose origins I can’t even guess. I see no discernible correlation between race and academic achievement in this school—there are top-notch students and students who struggle from every background. The common denominator that brings them to my classroom with reading skills that haven’t been well-developed isn’t their race; it’s their language gaps, their interrupted formal education, the distractions they face at home, and the underlying culprit of it all, their poverty. That’s what keeps them from engaging with a text like Beloved, but I sometimes think that saying so is akin to blasphemy.
______
In reading this book, some will certainly accuse me of perpetuating stereotypes everyone would rather avoid—ideas of minority students who are disruptive, fail to take advantage of opportunities, and do not succeed in overcoming the obstacles in front of them. I would argue that my goal has been to present a range of experiences (though some of them are undoubtedly cynical) that show the problems, joys, successes, and surprises presented by the students in an inner-city school. To whatever extent possible, I’ve tried to avoid “white washing” the situation, or as one of my mentors once cautioned me, to avoid presenting a “Pollyanna” approach to life in an inner-city school.
Does this make me racist or unsympathetic? I hope not. I would like to think that the fact that I have worked in the Bronx public schools for nearly ten years now gives me license to talk frankly and honestly about what I’ve seen, even if it doesn’t present the vision most outsiders would like to see.
I feel confident in asserting that my students would share this view. They would say that if I were to ignore the issues at hand, or to downplay the difference between what I’d like to see and what actually happens, I’d be acting in a disingenuous way. “Do you,” they always exhort me. “Just do you.” That’s the method I’ve tried to apply here.
My intention has never been to be prescriptive, or even idealistic, so much as realistic. I don’t have the answers. I’m not sure who does. This book is intended to be expository, to show what it is to be in these schools on a daily basis as a young, inexperienced teacher, and a high school student. To the extent that this book is more tragedy than comedy, that is a reflection of what is, rather than what I hope (and anyone who wishes to change education hopes) that the future might bring.
Lastly, I continue to believe in the institution of public school, against all odds. Free education may be the best thing America has to offer, and to whatever extent we can improve its quality and its efficacy in enabling our students to lead meaningful, productive lives, we must continue striving as a society to do so.
Epilogue
Where Are They Now?
I have lost touch with some of the students, especially the ones from my first two years. Here are the ones I have been able to keep track of, either personally, through other teachers, or through Facebook:
STUDENTS
Carlos lives in New York. He has a girlfriend, works, and attends community college.
Alex moved to Puerto Rico.
Kayron left Explorers, earned a GED, and currently attends one of the four-year colleges in the City University of New York (CUNY) system.
Felicia graduated from Explorers and enrolled in one of the CUNY schools.
Jonah lives and works in New York City. He has a girlfriend and has become a devout Catholic.
Adam began his college career at a private college in the Midwest, where he had a full scholarship, but left after two years. He is finishing school at one of the CUNY schools and working part-time.
Destiny enrolled in a high school with a nursery, from which she graduated.
Tyler is attending one of the State University of New York (SUNY) schools in upstate New York, at which he hopes to play football.
Tonya graduated from a private college in upstate New York, where she had a full scholarship and majored in dance. She is months away from completing an MFA in poetry.
Callum graduated from one of the CUNY schools, and is now working in a psychology lab and studying for his GREs. He plans to study psychology at the graduate level.
FACULTY
Alice still works in the small school as a social worker.
Dan still teaches biology, but in a public high school in a different neighborhood.
Ilana is still teaching. She is now in her ninth year in the NYC school system.
Acknowledgments
There are so many people without whom this book would never have been possible—and now I’m going to tell you a little bit about them all, in no particular order. Nicolaus Mills, at Sarah Lawrence College, was the first person to ask, when I showed him a story about teaching, “Do you have more of these?” He made me see that the sum of my experiences could be a book, and then pushed me to stop navel-gazing and make it happen. Nick—the Talmud says to find yourself a friend and teacher; you’ve been both.
Other teachers at the Sarah Lawrence MFA program who helped me variously to shape this book are Gerry Albarelli, Susan Cheever, Lee Edwards, and Jo Ann Beard. All of them encouraged me to take risks as a writer. I am deeply grateful. At Barnard College, before I even knew I was “creative,” Anne Prescott, Timea Szell, and Peter Platt pushed me to be a better English student and to love the printed word; through their efforts, they informed my reading, my writing, and my teaching.
I would not have started writing without the encouragement of Eli Muller, who brow-beat me into submitting my first articles to the school newspaper at age sixteen, and then kept brow-beating me for sixteen more years to keep doing that. Jora Stixrud LaFontaine and Rachel Prunier, two of the most accomplished women and best friends I’ve ever known, have offered me inspiration to achieve my goals and reassurance in times I needed a friendly voice. Scott Jones gave me computer tech support, cold beer, a filing system, and helped me to feel “like a boss” again whenever shyness or self-doubt got in my way. I love all of you.
I also love my strong, beautiful Barnard (and Columbia) women: Ilana Greenberg Kurizki (my name twin and friendship lobster), Chava Brandriss (who also taught in the trenches with me), Adrienne Rose, Tami Wallenstein, Batsheva Glatt, Laetia Kress, and Marla Lemonik all saw me as a writer before I ever did.
I couldn’t have written half this many chapters without the buttkicking and feedback of my mega-talented writer-friends: Jeanne Alnot, Adrienne Friedberg, Adam Chandler, Barbara McGuire, Maris James, Lillian Ho, Mike Stutzman, Mira Ptacin, Emily Zemler, Bernadette McComish, Aaron Epstein, Avi Mermelstein, and especially Michael Robin, who read or listened to umpteen drafts of each of these stories, and helped me to make them better in ways that I couldn’t have thought of on my own. At the same time, my “OTP”—Original Teacher Posse—lived through the trials and tribulations recorded herein with me. Arlene Yiadom-Daley, Matt Daley, David Wade, Jenny Rosenthal, Kristina Kirtley, Ben Caraballo, and Robert Harrits helped me see humor amidst many frustrating situations, and showed me how to be a better teacher through their examples.
Nicole Frail at Skyhorse Publishing took a chance on a book with a crazy title and, in doing so, helped me to fulfill a giant life goal. Her eagle-eyed reading and incisive suggestions have made this book better in every way, and her patient fielding of my many frantic emails has helped me to be a more sane person. She is everything a writer could want in an editor. Thanks also to Danielle Ceccolini who created a fun, awesome, and quirky cover for this book—it is a perfect visual representation of everything contained herein.
Family is everything. My cousin and de-facto sister, Becky Cooper Nadis (a.k.a. the “best lover of my fun”) helped me to “worksh
op” these stories in her living room, and usually fed me dinner. Aunt Sally, Uncle Bruce, Aunt Ilka, Uncle Fred, Aunt Carolyn, Uncle Herb, and cousins Lisa, Ben, and Dina, as well as numerous other members of my huge family, have been faithful readers and Facebook promoters of anything I’ve sent them, and brought me everything from Persian cucumbers to article clippings to knitted wool hats.
Lastly, my immediate family: My wonderful and witty brothers, Haskell, Jonathan, and Isaac Garon, with whom I share cherished memories of everything from full-contact chess, to toiling in the Virginia sun for $0.05 a weed, to joining a family cell phone plan. There are no “snakes” next to whom I’d rather fall asleep in synagogue than you guys. Mom and Dad, you are the very pillars of my life, which you have helped me to build through your love, encouragement, promotion of literacy (along with other good life skills!), and willingness to take my phone calls at 2 a.m. My gratitude is endless, and I love you more than I can say.