Showing posts with label Mexican-American Studies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mexican-American Studies. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Where Do We Go From Here?

Watch Banned in Arizona on PBS. See more from Need To Know.

United States Circuit Judge Wallace Tashima recently upheld portions of HB 2281, an Arizona state law that prohibits Mexican-American Studies (MAS) from being taught in the Tucson Unified School District (TUSD). This is the same law that allowed school officials to remove books, such as Sandra Cisneros' THE HOUSE ON MANGO STREET and Sherman Alexie's TEN LITTLE INDIANS from being used in classrooms (See Librotraficante for an essay and complete list of books by Elaine Romero).

Every time I've asked myself how the government and our courts could specifically prohibit the teaching of Mexican-American Studies (MAS) I've been reminded that fear stemming from ignorance, intolerance itself, and book burning are older than the bubonic plague. Anybody remember the great Library of Alexandria (A.D. 391), where mountains of knowledge were destroyed in religious fervor? There, original manuscripts of literature and history were lost forever. Luckily, HB 2281 has accomplished the opposite.

Banning books and killing ethnic studies is only going to further flame suspicions that those in positions of authority in Arizona seek to disempower minorities for political gain. Rather than be so afraid of our country's history that erasing it is the only plausible solution, why not accept it with all its blemishes, discuss it honestly and openly, and learn from it? It's revisionist history that engenders anger and resentment. 



Here are my responses to what Arizona believes it's outlawing:



I need to see tangible evidence of this. If discussing historical events makes certain people uncomfortable, then so be it. What's important is that students be allowed to talk about how we can avert making the same kinds of mistakes in the future, and MOVE ON.



Courses such as the Mexican-American Studies (MAS) program and others like it are needed to fill in gaping holes in a curriculum that is not culturally relevant to the majority of the students in many of these Tucson classrooms, particularly when these same classes have been shown to narrow the achievement gap for Latino students. And, please, let's not promote the reading of only one kind of literature. Our students should be reading literature as diverse as our country's/world's population. 



Tucson Unified School District (TUCSD) officials say they want a curriculum that treats students as individuals and that does not "promote ethnic solidarity." Great, let's see a proposal for a revised curriculum that is factual and inclusive. I'd like to see a curriculum that shows through examples that we can be individuals and still be part of a whole -- our country's history of immigration.

***


Two final thoughts:

1) Scholars should be the ones writing our students' curriculum, not politicians.
2) Moving forward, I'd like to hear civil dialogue and see respectful behavior.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

#BanningHistory: Reading From Cisneros' Classic THE HOUSE ON MANGO STREET

In protest of the recent book banning and dismantling of the Mexican-American Studies program in the Tucson Unified School District, I've recorded myself reading from a book that conveys many of the feelings I experienced growing up a bicultural Latina. Incredulously, Sandra Cisneros' THE HOUSE ON MANGO STREET, a book that explores Latino identity, community, family and poverty, is one of these books that's been banned. (To view a complete list, which includes Shakespeare's THE TEMPEST *you heard right*, follow this link.)

Please visit www.banninghistory.com to learn more about the book banning and to view readings by others, like my friend Bella Vida Letty, who reads from Laura Esquivel's LIKE WATER FOR CHOCOLATE, and where I contributed a poem entitled I WANT TO BE EDUCATED, when this news first broke.

Friday, February 3, 2012

I Want to Be Educated


by Ezzy Guerrero-Languzzi

I want to be educated
Chapters in books
Pages, words
Sounds, thoughts, emotions

Discovery

Who's free, really, in this country?
I never had the right, apparently
What you cannot, will not, refuse to see
I promise will never cease to be

These chapters in books and pages, words
Voices from the past, a warning to the future
A salve for wounds undiscovered

These chapters in books and pages, words
Tell me that in humanity I am not alone
I have brothers and sisters on the same journey
Finding our place in this world and our communities

Go ahead
You may take them
I give you permission to confiscate them
Ban them
Burn them
Hide them in boxes
Do what you must
But know -- try as you may, you cannot hide or change history

You will not conquer me.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

HUNGER OF MEMORY: The Education of Richard Rodriguez



"A primary reason for my success in the classroom was that I couldn't forget that schooling was changing me and separating me from the life I enjoyed before becoming a student."

Hunger of Memory Resonated With This Reader

I could not take my eyes off this book when I first saw it, with its romantic sepia-toned image of a mestizo young man, staring off into a dream. It captured my imagination. What were his thoughts? I wondered. What did it mean to "hunger of memory?"

Nothing could've prepared me for it.

I read Richard Rodriguez's autobiography, a collection of six essays, with a constant churning in my stomach, feeling all-the-while, as though I'd stolen the man's diary and invaded his deepest, darkest thoughts.

Rodriguez's story is one threaded with guilt, regret, and longing for his Mexican culture, language, his private (home) life. The one he had no choice, but to give-up, in order to assume his place in public society. 
"For the first time I realized that there were other students like me, and so I was able to frame the meaning of my academic success, its consequent price -- the loss." 
Reading HUNGER OF MEMORY, I came across three central issues that have left my brain in knots (still):

  1. Private identity vs. Public identity -- what have we (who've assimilated) given up of our private identities (culture and language) to assume our place in public society?
  2. Bilingual education -- does bilingual education do more harm than good? Does it take away a child's right to assume their place in public society by teaching them in their "private" language?
  3. Affirmative action -- is there a point at which affirmative action in education gives an unfair advantage to somebody who may be a "numerical" minority, but not a "cultural" minority, someone who's already assimilated?

I don't think I could've picked a more provocative book to read for the Multicultural Awareness Blog Carnival. I'm afraid that instead of finding answers for myself, I've dug up more questions.

So I have to ask...

Whoever said we couldn't hold onto our individual ancestry, culture, language, and be members of public society? Does it have to be all-or-nothing? I certainly don't, nor will I accept it.


Video: Richard Rodriguez on Books Learning

In this hour-long video, Richard Rodriguez explains why he does not consider himself a cultural "minority." He also addresses "multiculturalism" from the perspective of groups who silo themselves at the expense of having an expanded world-view.

Be sure to stay for the Q&A. In it he talks about the beauty of Octavio Paz's poetry, how he believes that U.S. television will feature "brown-skinned" actors who look like him, mestizo (this video is dated 1999), long before Latin America does, and his views on justice in America.

Richard Rodrigez is a complex thinker. He identifies himself as a Mexican-American, while at the same time acknowledging that he has a little bit of everybody else in him, too.

Listening to him is definitely a mind-bender. And although I don't agree with everything he says, I do appreciate his perspective.




"Once upon a time, I was a 'socially disadvantaged' child.
An enchantedly happy child.
Mine was a childhood of intense family closeness.
And extreme public alienation.
Thirty years later I write this book as a middle-class American man.
Assimilated."