This
spring semester 2012, I participated in the Honors 479 Cultivating Global
Citizenship course. This course
had a service learning aspect, which involved working with children, or
"dreamers", at the Asheville chapter of the I Have a Dream Foundation
(IHAD). The course also required
weekly blogging, which served as a reflection for the service learning and for
all of the reading material we covered in class. The class structure allowed other students and me to make
the best of it based on what work we were willing to put it. Ultimately, we had a very good class
that was very focused on the goals at hand and on having critical conversations
surrounding the material.
For
me, personally, I didn't feel as connected to IHAD as I have previously with
another tutoring group I was involved with in high school. In high school, I tutored Hispanic
children at El Centro Hispano in Durham, NC. It was super fulfilling and really interesting to me since I
was able to practice my Spanish speaking skills. It was harder for me to get into IHAD and I think so for
several reasons. This semester was
loaded with work for my Spanish senior thesis and packed with studying for
microbiology. I applied to nursing
school and had to deal with the stress of organizing everything for that on my
mind too. It was difficult for me
to focus on making connections with the participants of IHAD. I'm also more interested in working
with adults and senior citizens.
So, I conclude that a combination of all these things led me to feel
distant to the service learning this semester. However, just because I felt this way doesn't mean I didn't
find any importance in programs like IHAD in children's lives or any relevance
in our class's readings. It sounds
cliché, but children will eventually be the next adult generation and in order
to ensure a positive future for our country and citizens we need to make
certain that our children are educated, in the traditional sense, and in the
importance of human dignity.
Both
of my parents worked hard and, with the upper-middle class behind them, earned
graduate degrees (M.D. and Ph.D.)
I was born into the privileged world. We lived in a nice house and always had food on the
table. I knew I could entertain
any interest I had and I never doubted that Santa would bring me tons of
presents at Christmas. Thankfully,
I wasn't sheltered. My parents
could have sent me to private school, and almost did, but instead put me in
public school because they felt I should be exposed to the real world where I
would interact with people of every socioeconomic class. I never realized how important my
public school experience was until high school rolled around and I went to the
"nice" public high school and my friends went to the "bad"
one. That was the first time I
realized I was privileged and that my privilege was big enough to alienate me
from my friends who lived in or near different, "sketchy"
neighborhoods. It was a harsh
reality for me, but talking to my parents about it made me feel better. They are the people that I admire the
most. My mom works for a state
psychiatric hospital and my dad does drug research for a nonprofit. They are the ones that told me to use
my privilege to help others the best I can. I'm not trying to sound like a super hero or sound
self-important, but it's like what Kwame Anthony Appiah said in his book Cosmopolitanism: Ethics in a World of
Strangers, "If you are the person in the best position to prevent
something really awful, and it won’t cost you must to do so, do it” (161).
This
Appiah quote is a modification of another philosopher's
argument/principle. Appiah’s
principle doesn’t call for extremes and it doesn’t require that a person sit
down and “reduce all values to their contributions to the badness in the world”
(161). His principle, I feel like, relies on and trusts people’s
sense of morality. I like to think that most people do choose to act
responsibly and do good in the world.
However, and this has always been the case, I have a little bit of mistrust
in other people's sense of morality because humans aren’t always rational and
don’t always act the way our society would deem correct. I guess this is why we have been
exploring different theories and social injustices, so we can think critically
about how we act toward other humans and help them live dignified lives. Ultimately, I tried to connect each of
our readings to IHAD and how they affected my beliefs.
I
Have a Dream is located in the Pisgah View Apartments in West Asheville. When you arrive, you can instantly tell
that it is lower income. Paint is
peeling off of the siding and unit numbers are either missing or barely hanging
on. Unlike fancier neighborhoods, the Pisgah View neighborhood is located
almost on the freeway and tucked away from downtown. Because of economic
struggle and perhaps other prejudices, it is easy to see that the dreamers need
the program because their parents or guardians might be busy with more
immediate issues (like putting food on the table and paying bills) other than
worrying about the long-term benefits of a complete education. The dreamers come from low-income families and marginalized
groups (racial or economic minorities).
The I Have A Dream (IHAD) program chooses
motivated children from such backgrounds and follows them through middle and
high school (sometimes elementary school, too) with the promise of financial
support for college if they do well and graduate. IHAD provides a daily structured environment for its
“dreamers” (participants) where they can complete homework and have supervised
recreational time. I think this is
phenomenal because all children crave structure and, often times, the dreamers
come from unstructured homes where they don’t get the motivation and guidance
they need. The importance of
programs like IHAD is magnified by Jonathan Kozol’s information in his book The Shame of the Nation and in David
Guggenheim’s movie Waiting for “Superman.”
Children from marginalized groups become disenfranchised
as soon as they reach elementary school.
One of the primary reasons why is how school districts are drawn. More often than not, children from
poorer neighborhoods get funneled into one, less funded public school, while
children from more wealthier areas get funneled into another, well equipped
one. David Guggenheim calls these
poorer public schools “dropout factories” and the chances that a
disenfranchised student will actually graduate from such a school greatly
diminish with each grade. Not only
is district an issue, but also some public schools require an entrance exam to
even be considered for enrollment.
These entrance exams can cost up to $200 and those parents unable to pay
send their children to underfunded schools and the “dropout factory” process
begins. The dreamers of IHAD, many
of who live in the Pisgah View Apartments, find themselves in this
situation—the same situation that their parents were in. Without IHAD and similar programs
intervention, this social situation is perpetuated for generations to
come.
It is absolutely crucial to get students excited
about learning at the earliest possible stage and to provide them with a
positive learning experience.
Without motivation and people pushing them to do well, students fall
behind and get pushed through the school system until they give up and settle
for the idea of “going nowhere.” It has been proven time and time again that
encouragement and long-term support almost guarantee a child’s completion of
high school and acceptance into college.
This is something I think many adults (parents, teachers, school policy
makers) need to know and understand in order to truly make a difference in a
child’s quality of education. This
is about as far as I want to talk in depth about disenfranchised children and
volunteer programs because the class mainly made me excited about pursuing my
interests in becoming a nurse practioner and helping disenfranchised
adults. Ultimately, I want to work
at a public clinic or in geriatric psychiatry. In a public clinic, I could help people who normally don't
have access to affordable health care and in geriatric psychiatry I could help
people age in a dignified manner.
There were several works that we read and watched that related directly
to my interests and past experiences and made me excited to really get out in
the world and start doing stuff.
One week we watched “Arts:
A Film About Possibilities, Disabilities and the Arts.” It featured
various types of artists from different disciplines and different types of
training. Many of the featured artists had some type of disability (Geri
Jewell has cerebral palsy and there are others on the autism spectrum), but
they were very passionate about how their disability contributed to their work
and to their sense of pride.
Overall, I thought the film was a little cheesy and, at first, hard to take
seriously because of the spotty camera work. However, I think the
positive message that the film portrayed shined through well enough.
I think it was wonderful to hear from the various artists what art meant to
them and its role in their lives. To some of the artists, their work
meant everything to them and was very personal (like the woman with autism who
HAD to cut out a piece of every painting she made before selling it), while
others just thought it was fun creativity. No matter the meaning, I got
the feeling that it was important for all of the artists to create something
that made them happy and made them proud.
It really said something about the human soul, or human essence, that
people generally have the urge to create and put a piece of themselves down for
the world, or just themselves, to see.
While I was touched by the documentary’s focus on people with disabilities
loving the arts, I was more moved by the idea of art as a form of
therapy. Art therapy can work for anyone of any age, gender, race, social
class, etc. In my opinion, art therapy, or just art, is a form of
meditation and reflection. It's a way of soothing the mind and making
sense of its inner workings. In
high school, when I volunteered at the state psychiatric hospital where my
mother worked, I had the chance to shadow one of the art therapists and later
help her set up an art show of patients’ creations. During art therapy
sessions, it was amazing to see how easily patients opened up about their lives
and their experiences—making art was a way of calming down and being able to
think rationally. When it came to setting up the art show, I was very surprised
at how many pieces each patient (artist) had and I was equally surprised at how
impressive the art was. The level
of talent each patient had was astounding and varied from detailed sketch
portraiture to colorful abstract watercolors. I was only 17 years old, so you have to forgive me for
thinking the art of psychiatric patients would be like toddler finger painting
or creepy, ominous drawings like in the movies. My volunteering experience taught me that just because
someone has a mental illness doesn’t mean they are completely out of control or
untalented or incompetent or infantile. A mental illness doesn't define
someone and it doesn't mean they aren't worthy of love and recognition. My time volunteering at the psychiatric
hospital opened my eyes to a different set of people who needed dignity and,
until that time, I hadn't once critically thought about the people my mother
worked to help. Also, I'm aware
that, although I was very excited about volunteering then, I only just now have
the vocabulary to describe why it is so important to help others.
I
think out of everything we read and watched in class the film "Waging a
Living" had the biggest effect on me because it was the most relevant to
our present day socioeconomic situation in the United States. Our economy is in the dump and the key
players in the government (both at the national and state levels) can't seem to
agree on a way to alleviate the stresses on the people most affected by the decisions
made (or not made).
“Waging a Living” proved that it’s
impossible to live comfortably, without excessive worry, on minimum wage.
All of the interviewees worked full-time to support their children. One
woman was a divorcee, had two children, worked as a waitress (something like $2.75/hour
plus tips), and was $15,000+ in debt.
She didn't have enough money to pay for her divorce and necessities and
the only way she could pay for things was by continually maxing out credit
cards. Another woman had multiple children, worked in a girls' home, and
attended community college part-time. She lived on her wages, Medicaid,
and food stamps—at least that was until she got a $3 raise and magically made
too much to qualify. Her state housing rent also went up in price.
She called it “hustling backwards” because the more she made, the more she
stayed behind, stayed stagnant. Making more money meant she would be
spending more money (no health care meant she had to spend $175 on her son’s
allergy medication and choose some other necessity not to pay). Her
situation was so dire that she couldn’t even buy her family a Christmas dinner.
One man, Jerry, barely made enough to eat and pay rent and only after ten years
was he able to afford a plane ticket to see his children. The financial
situations of the other film participants were similar to each other: good
people working hard, long hours, but staying socially stagnant.
This
film created the class discussion that I remembered the most. The question that challenged me was
about the American dream and if we are owed or if we deserve everything it
encompasses. In class, we pretty much summed the American Dream up to be
the ability (or the idea of the ability) to be able to work hard and move up
and out of your social class and to have all the benefits that come with that
class. The fact that our country was more or less founded on this dream
is the primary reason we deserve to have it and the reason we are owed to live
comfortable lives with our hard work. The answer is definitively,
unequivocally “yes”. We do deserve the American Dream. We shouldn’t
have to “rethink” the American Dream. We need to find ways to make it
possible. As human beings, we deserve dignity and comfort. We
deserve to have enough money to take a vacation or to visit family. We deserve
to be able to buy food for the holidays.
We deserve to give our children a quality education. We deserve to
have easy transportation to and from work (having a car shouldn’t feel like a
necessity). We deserve to pamper ourselves and to indulge. The
question, “What are we really owed?” bothered me for this reason: if we don’t
have these pleasures, abilities we are merely existing and if we’re just
existing, we lose the beauty of being human. All of this being said, I don’t understand why someone wouldn’t
want a more socialist, educated society (socialism doesn’t mean communism or
less capitalism). Why would anyone want to deny another human being the
right to live a comfortable life? A life of dignity and value? I will
admit that possessing these ideas is a privilege because I obtained them
through higher education and being economically comfortable. I have
access to these ideas and access to the discussion of these ideas. More
people need access to these ideas, so that upward social mobility is possible.
If
I take one thing away from this class, it would be that human life is precious
and each one deserves to be cultivated and nurtured. By this I mean that everyone deserves to have a happy life
and the opportunity to make it as positive they can. But now, reflecting, how will I contribute to the
world? I'm graduating in less than
two weeks and I'm waiting to hear back from nursing school. I know that I mentioned that I want to
be a nurse practioner and either work in geriatric psychiatry or in a public
clinic. Up front, I know that this
profession will directly help people.
But how will I use the things I've learned in class to positively affect
the lives of people I encounter?
I've
learned that my privilege is unique and that it was no accident. I'm a white, upper-middle class
woman. Paulo Freire stresses in Pedagogy of the Oppressed that in order
to make a true difference in oppressed lives we have to be positive and active
in reconstructing social order and acknowledging that no one comes from a
neutral position. Now that I know
where I stand in that social order I have to analyze how my position affects
others and how they interpret it.
I also have to think about other people's situations in life and their
experiences. As a future nurse, I
can't walk into the doctor's office and assume that every patient thinks like
me or has had the same medical experience. I have to understand their needs because the doctor's office
is often an intimidating place and the last thing patients need is to feel like
their health care provider is looking down on them. I know I'll encounter people, not just in the health care
world, that are from lower socioeconomic classes than I am. Sensitivity and tolerance is necessary
to elevate people to a dignified level.
When
(if) I have children, I'll have to keep in mind what I have learned in this
class and in my personal experiences.
I want to make sure that my children are exposed to different kinds of
people from all over the world. I
want them to know people of different races, cultures, sexualities, and
socioeconomic levels and that certain kinds of people are unfairly favored over
others (namely in the USA rich, white people rule over ethnic minorities). It's important that they learn to
respect people different from them and that they develop, like I have, the
vocabulary to talk about prejudice and oppressive social constructs. No one is a perfect, nonjudgmental
human being. However, with
patience and an open mind, we can begin any dialogue and create peace (on the
global level and in individual interactions).





