Multicultural Voices
in the Classroom
The following excerpts were taken with
permission from Ourselves as Students:
Multicultural Voices in the Classroom,
compiled and edited by The Broad Minds
Collective (Kaaren Ancarrow, Nan Byrne,
Jean Caggiano, Anita Clair Fellman,
Brigita Martinson). This compilation
of essays -- each written by a student
at Old Dominion University -- gives
voice to the thoughts of working-class
students, bi-racial students, students
who are also veterans, caucasian students,
and other students from a range of geographical,
ethnic, and other cultural regions.
We offer the perspectives encompassed
in this volume as a promising resource
for initiating student discussions and/or
organizing student writing sessions,
whether in dorm settings or in their
classrooms:
This collection of essays was
published by the Southern Illinois University
Press, Carbondale and Edwardsville,
Carbondale, Illinois, 62901. Telephone:
(618) 453-6616. Fax: (618) 453-3787.
Earning
a Living Always Came First
It is important to stand firm in the
conviction that nothing can truly separate
us from our pasts, when we nurture and
cherish that connection. --bell hooks
I come from a family of Irish; my parents
were the children of Irish-Catholic
immigrants. My mother and father were
raised in the same working class neighborhood
in New York City. My father left school
at sixteen to work carrying messages
during the Depression. My mother remained
in school until tenth grade, when a
defense job in a factory lured her away
during World War II. When I was a child,
these simple facts would startle me.
It is only now, as I look back, that
I realize that as a child I often wondered
at what grade I, too, would be asked
to leave school to help out. School
and learning were extras; earning a
living always came first. I was raised
in New York City and later on Long Island
where my parents moved to escape their
small apartment, the city crime, and
the streets where we played, the same
streets they ran as children. Before
I went to school, I believed that everyone
lived as we did--with Mass on Sunday,
fish on Friday, one bathroom, two to
a room, boys playing ball, girls cleaning
up and washing. We were isolated in
our ethnicity. In our neighborhood,
fathers worked as city cops, repairmen,
garbage collectors, or mechanics, some
hourly jobs that took them into Brooklyn,
Queens, or the city. Mothers had babies,
"as many as God let them,"
and stayed home if their husbands demanded
it or worked if they had no husband
or one who wouldn't. I learned early
from my religion, my parents, and my
neighborhood my place in society. It
was not until I reached school that
I learned there were different rules
for each race, class, sex, and ethnic
group. It was at school that I would
learn about the realities of my working-class
background and how it would separate
me from my classmates, teachers, and
my own academic aspirations. School
taught me about the desire to belong
and about the politics of economic exclusion.
These lessons in ambivalence taught
in the classroom I bring to everything
I do. The economic realities of my life
always provided the boundaries of my
education, drawing a sharp line between
my dreams for myself and what I was
actually expected to accomplish. I have
always felt that anything I have been
able to accomplish was due more to luck
and circumstances and my will to survive
than it was to any ability I had or
resources my mother and father could
provide. As a child growing up and later
as a young woman in college, I believed
that the classroom revolved around money--that
I could not learn without resources--money
for milk, school pictures, and field
trips at first. Later, money for books,
transportation, and supplies. The simple
fact that for some children there would
always be money for classroom "necessities"
was something I learned at school. It
was not until I had earned enough money
to support myself that I realized that
class was more than just money--it was
a boundary. I attended a state university
on an academic scholarship, and I remember
quite clearly how I felt in one of my
first college courses when I heard the
comments of my French professor about
the requirements for majoring in foreign
language. My professor maintained that
students who wanted to learn foreign
language could never truly be "prepared"
for college level study without traveling
abroad. I, who could barely afford the
living expenses at the university, was
excluded, for I knew I could have sooner
danced on the moon than studied abroad.
His perspective became the norm of study
in that classroom, and I knew that even
after five years of study in high school,
college-level French study would be
closed off to me. The classroom seemed
to be built around this type of inequality,
an inequality constructed by assumptions.
The influence of gender on my classroom
experience is not to be ignored. If
I were asked, I would be compelled to
name my femaleness as having the most
significant impact on my formal education.
My perspective on my gender was shaped
by the rigid exclusionary policies practiced
by my church and the school system in
which I was educated. My school enforced
a rigid dress code for female students,
provided a second-rate athletic program
for girls, and actively advised young
women away from math and science courses.
My religion acknowledged my womanhood
with a white dress at communion and
a slap in the face at confirmation.
I was obliged to cover my head with
a hat or a veil, hope for a son who
would become a priest, and was often
reminded that children were a gift from
God over which women would have no control.
From my church, I learned about being
a woman with the power to create, but
I also learned of my own powerlessness.
My own powerlessness as a woman is something
that sits in every classroom with me.
It keeps me quiet when men talk; it
jumps me to my feet when someone needs
something; and it calms me when I fail.
This is difficult for me to acknowledge.
I feel not only powerless in the classroom,
but passive. My discomfort with discussion
is real; although I feel naturally inclined
to learn from other students through
a shared experience, I sometimes think
I have little of value to say. I am
like many other women who have never
felt our ideas or thoughts were taken
seriously in the classroom--I am uncomfortable
hearing myself speak. This year, though,
I feel like I have come full circle.
I am back in the classroom, and I bring
new expectations, but I come knowing
that I am still connected to my past.
--Nan Byrne
A High
Will to Achieve
I am an oriental female student who
has had most of my schooling in Shanghai,
China. In the Chinese culture, there
is always hope among families to bear
a son and not a daughter because a daughter
cannot carry on the family name. Population
is also a serious problem in China,
and each family may only have one child.
Therefore, I am an only child and have
acquired certain qualities that differentiate
me from other females. I am a bit tomboyish
and have a high will to achieve. After
I was born, my family was mostly a one-parent
family because my father spent most
of his time on the national aviation
team in Shanghai. During my father's
absences, my mother worked very hard
for our survival. I felt I had to assume
the male role of being strong and unyielding
to protect her from harm. I remember
one instance in which a neighbor bullied
my mother in the residents' kitchen.
During that time, there was only one
kitchen to an apartment complex. I could
not bear the site of her bullying my
mother and rebelled even though it was
not right to speak to an elder in such
a tone. My background has taught me
to be independent in all facets of life.
It also contributes to my continuing
perseverance in education. I believe
that my race has an effect on the way
I react in the classroom. In China it
is very difficult to enter a university
because there are so many people, yet
so few educational institutions. In
order to be admitted, one has to be
a superior student. Failure usually
translates into a life of hard labor.
Some people commit suicide because they
are not admitted to one of the few universities.
Shanghai is not like the United States,
where even the average student may attend
a suitable university. I had to constantly
battle this fear of failure in the classroom.
Fortunately, I was admitted to the University
of Shanghai and later was able to come
to the United States to study with the
support of my relatives in Hong Kong.
I had decided to come to the United
States and to study and to be better
than the average Shanghai student and
have a better future. This view of hard
work by our race has helped me to excel.
Our family in Shanghai is considered
upper middle class as a result of years
of consistent hard work. My mother is
a doctor, and my father is a professional
coach. In Shanghai, a majority of my
friends are in the same social class
and are all well educated. It is these
friends, my peers, who encouraged me
to do well in school. Most were very
active and all had high grade point
averages. I think that these friends
have also had a great impact on my view
of the importance of education. Upon
attending Old Dominion University, I
have found that my social experience
and the identities I assumed in the
past in China have contributed considerably
to my academic progress in the United
States. Being away from my home country,
my need to be successful and not fail
is greater. The only barrier in my major
field of study is one of language. Classes
containing mathematical problem solving
appeal to me more than classes such
as systems analysis, which require understanding
of complex terminology. This weakness
makes courses containing mathematics
and logic more interesting. I remember
taking a class in computer language
where these two factors were prevalent,
and as a result, I did exceptionally
well. This is probably the reason why
so many American students stereotype
me as a typical Chinese person who is
viewed as being gifted in math and logic.
The truth lies more in the fact that
I do math better than I can utilize
English. I am mostly silent in class
due to the same problem, but I usually
talk to the instructor on a one-to-one
basis after class. I try to listen,
but a majority of the time I cannot
understand because of the fast pace
at which the instructor speaks. Therefore,
I must spend an enormous amount of time
reading the book with the aid of my
English-Chinese dictionary. In spite
of all this, I still do well in all
of my courses. Even though it is very
difficult for me to study in the United
States, I must study hard and be successful
in order to fullfill my parents' and
peers' hopes. Therefore, I bring all
the hopes, social experiences, and identities
into the classroom. --Ling Ling
I've
Always Felt As If I Belong
As I continue my education through
every class of every year of every school,
I am aware of three specific aspects
of my identity: older, white, and male.
The least consequential of these is
my maleness. One of my misconceptions
upon returning to school was that business
administration, specifically the accounting
field, is a typically male-dominated
industry. In actuality, my accounting
classes seem to be female dominated.
I don't have any problem with this;
it is just contrary to what I had previously
believed. I haven't noticed any difference
in the teaching practices or in my own
ability to feel comfortable with the
material. One part of my identity that
helps me feel more comfortable with
my classes is my race--Caucasian. I
had never previously considered how
much I take this for granted until I
encountered a particular member of a
racial minority in several of my classes.
This man would always arrive last, sit
in the very back, and never offer any
input to the lectures. It was not until
we had a class with several of his friends
that I realized he was not shy. I can
only speculate that the reason for his
silence was a feeling of not belonging.
I have always felt comfortable enough
with my surroundings to sit where I
want and to speak in class. Since many
instructors regard class participation
as worthy of credit, I could say I've
benefited because I've always felt as
though I belong. Because I was raised
in an all-white town, atttended an all-white
high school, and attended mostly white
colleges and universities, my knowledge
of black cultures and histories has
been severely neglected. Being an "older"
student has had the most profound effect
on my schooling. When I was younger
and attended Penn State, someone was
always looking to form a study group.
The same was true when I attended Tidewater
community college, where the average
age of the student body is twenty-nine.
But no one has asked me to study with
them since I entered ODU. I can only
attribute this to my age. Now, I study
more on my own, and it makes the learning
process harder. In contrast, being older
is a barrier to such distractions as
partying. The bottom line is that being
older makes it harder to feel as though
I belong to the academic community.
Being older, white, and male has its
advantages and disadvantages. My advantages
could be construed as someone else's
disadvantages. One thing I have learned
is that I may make others feel uncomfortable
without any knowledge or intention of
doing so. --B.W.S.
I
Would Do the Same Thing If I Were in
Their Position
Many people in my generation have been
raised to think of every individual
as equal regardless of gender, race,
religion, and so on. As a twenty-one
year old junior in college, I have found
that such equality is lacking, if not
absent altogether. Most people would
probably agree that much of the discrimination
today is against groups such as blacks
and women. However, I have been discriminated
against, as a white male, to the benefit
of these groups. The drive over the
past thirty years for the rights of
minorities has made those of us in the
majority (white male) the indirect targets
of reverse discrimination. I stress
that this discrimination is INDIRECT
in that it is ONLY a result of a push
for the rights of minorities. I first
became aware of this discrimination
when I was in high school and applying
to colleges. I found that my higher
SAT scores and leadership positions
were not enough to win acceptance to
a particular college. A few of my close
friends, black males and females, were
accepted to universities that I was
not, even though I was more qualified
(i.e., higher SAT, higher GPA). This
provoked a certain amount of resentment,
though I was not sure whom to be resentful
toward--my friends for being who they
were, or the "system" for
making what I thought was a mistake.
When I entered the university, I was
pulled to the area of study that is
still my major--criminal justice. However,
I soon learned that getting good grades
did not necessarily mean that I would
get a job. I was told from the beginning
that organizations such as city police
forces have a great need for black and
female officers. When I begin to apply
for jobs in the criminal justice field,
I may be secondary to such groups. I
can only concentrate on my schooling
to better my chances. I have found it
important, however, to regard such situations
from the minority perspective. If I
were a member of a minority group, I
would, without a doubt, take advantage
of any chances I might be given. I have
talked to many students in my college
courses who are doing just that. For
instance, numerous minority individuals
in my criminal justice courses are already
planning to go on to the graduate level
simply because they are underrepresented
in the master's and doctorate programs.
I always offer them my wholehearted
support because I would do the same
thing if I were in their position. Though
I feel I am not given the same advantages
in some situations as certain minority
groups in my field, I do not feel like
I am directly discriminated against.
If anyone is directly discriminated
against, it is the members of these
minority groups. I have recognized that
the majority of the material I study
comes from a white male perspective.
Therefore, I enrolled in the one criminal
justice class offered on campus that
provided a minority viewpoint and was
taught by a black female. Classes like
these, which offer a minority perspective,
should be offered in all fields of study
and should be required for graduation.
Such classes enable individuals in the
majority to better understand minority
groups. --A.L.
See
Me, Not My Clothes
We have all stared at people entering
a classroom because they looked different.
Difference could be color, gender, physical
handicap, age, appearance, or anything
else that made the person stand out
of the norm. I am a twenty-one-year-old
black male and a NROTC midshipman, and
I feel that these are the most dominant
characteristics that people notice about
me when I walk into a classroom for
the first time. I am required to wear
my uniform on Tuesdays, and this is
when I notice the different reactions.
On that day, I come into my classes
and people look at me differently than
when I walk into class on Thursdays.
On Thursdays, I wear civilian clothing.
Most of my civilian clothing is similar
to that of a hoodlum. I like to wear
loose fitting, baggy jeans, hooded sweatshirts,
sweatsuits, tennis shoes, fitted baseball
caps, and other things that "hoods"
wear. When I am in uniform, I guess
people see the uniform and not me. When
I am in civilian clothing, I guess people
see me and the "hoodlum" clothing.
While I am in uniform, people are more
friendly and considerate to me in and
out of the classroom. For example, people
I do not know will sometimes hold doors
open for me and give me friendly greetings.
When I am out of uniform, some people,
who I do not know, are less likely to
engage in a friendly conversation, and
they also try to isolate themselves
from me. At first, these situations
used to bother me. I did not know what
people in class thought about me when
I was in uniform and when I was not
in uniform. I have heard people in class
make comments about my civilian attire
as if to question whether or not I was
"fit" to wear the uniform.
I figure that "it is the person
who makes the clothes and not the clothes
that make the person." In my opinion,
people should be judged by what they
are capable of doing and not by what
they wear. We all have stereotyped and
prejudged people, but we should not
base our final judgement of people on
their physical appearance. As a young
black male, I have noticed that people
of other races tend to watch what they
say around me. For example, any type
of "black issue" that is talked
about in the classroom is usually discussed
in a very discreet manner so as not
to offend or arouse any of the black
students. When I was in high school,
I was urged to take a lot of math and
science courses that dealt with engineering.
I was not a genius in these courses,
but I had people telling me to stick
with engineering because I was a good
student and a black male. At that time,
I did not know what they meant. Now
that I am older, I understand better.
I have a serious problem with this type
of counseling, which has placed me into
certain classes and programs. Am I here
because of what I can do, or am I here
because of who I am? This sometimes
causes me to doubt myself and my abilities.
--V.H.S.
My
Money Is as Good as Anybody Else's
At a very early age, I became aware
of various limitations that people would
place upon me simply because I was black.
I attended a predominantly white high
school, and I noticed that many of the
teachers assumed that my college choices
were limited to only black universities.
I decided that my race should not be
an issue in choosing a college; therefore,
I took it upon myself to choose an institution
that would best suit my academic needs
and not just my racial needs. When I
chose Old Dominion as my college, I
prepared myself for handling situations
which black students have to deal with
while attending a predominantly white
university. Although times have changed
since the blatant racial discrimination
of earlier years, we still live in a
world where "white is right,"
and some people will never be able to
see past the color of my skin. I have
been told by many people that I was
born with two disabilities: first that
I am black, and second that I am a woman.
I have refused to let myself be discouraged
by others' ignorance. There are professors
and students at this university who
would like nothing better than to see
me fail. I have had professors discourage
my future plans, and students who refuse
to acknowledge my presence and ideas.
There are often times when I feel as
though black perspectives and female
perspectives are not part of course
material. Sometimes, it is difficult
to get myself to share my ideas in class
for fear that they will be rejected
by the majority of students who do not
share my experiences and do not understand
them. In relation to my race and gender
and its effect on my participation,
I have noticed that I am less likely
to voice my opinion on black/white issues
than I am to voice my opinion on male/female
related issues. This is probably because
there is usually more of a support system
for me on male/female debates simply
because there are more females in the
class. When I am speaking on a black/white
issue, there are usually one or two
other blacks who can empathize with
the position I am taking. My social
class has an impact on my role as a
student; although it plays a smaller
part than race or gender, it is still
an important component. Coming from
a middle-class background, I was more
prepared for university life. I realized
that, in order to function and to succeed
in this world, I would have to be able
to understand how to work with more
than just black people. My middle-class
values seem to be in accordance with
many of the professors and students
at this university, so that has not
offered a big disturbance in participating
in class discussion. There will always
be those people who make it their business
to make sure that I know that I am not
welcomed and do not belong at this university.
But it is my philosophy that my money
is as good as anybody else's, and as
long as I can afford to go here, then
I belong. I belong here for the simple
fact that it is my choice, I make good
grades, and I am secure in my future
plans while attending this university.
There are definitely aspects of my identity
which enhance my sense of belonging.
For example, my religion tells me that
I am no different from anyone else and
that I should not have to be subjected
to the judgement of others. It is very
important for everyone to take a step
back and try to see a situation from
the viewpoint of another. I am forced
to take that step every day of my life
in order to function in a predominantly
white university. I believe that it
is time for others to try and see where
I am coming from, and then they may
be better able to understand my struggle.
--Tonya Anderson
Regaining
My Spanish Heritage
My name is James Gracia and I am a
male Hispanic student at Old Dominion
University. I was born in Barcelona,
Spain, and my parents and family moved
to the United States when I was seven
years old. My first language was Spanish,
and it still is the primary language
we speak at home. My parents came to
the United States in search of a better
life for themselves and our family.
I remember from a very early age my
father stressing to me the importance
of learning the English language and
becoming familiar with American culture.
His thinking was that this was essential
in attaining success in the United States.
Consequently, most of my school-age
life was spent at boarding schools in
the New England area, while my older
brothers remained in Virginia working
in the family business. I remember as
a young student the horror of entering
school and facing a classroom with my
limited command of the English language.
I was usually a very able and outgoing
youngster, but in the classroom I was
much too uncomfortable to even open
my mouth. In fact, I had one teacher
who tried to keep me back in the third
grade because he thought I was stupid.
The truth was that I understood all
of the material perfectly well; I just
had a hard time verbalizing it in English.
If others had made me more comfortable
speaking my broken English, I would
have learned it more quickly. That is
why I take extra care to try to befriend
and put at ease the foreign exchange
students I encounter in class. I just
wish others would do the same. As I
was growing up, my father insisted that
I go by the surname Grace instead of
by my real last name of Gracia. His
reasoning was that Gracia was too confusing
for Americans to pronounce and spell.
It was not until I entered the university
that I went back to my original last
name, Gracia. Much to my father's chagrin,
I have chosen Spanish and philosophy
as my fields of study. It was my father's
dream that I be the one to take over
the family business, but that is just
not going to happen. All that study
and all that schooling backfired on
him as my instructors and my friends
encouraged me unconditionally to pursue
what interested me most. Furthermore,
I wish to regain some of the Spanish
culture I missed out on growing up.
It is my hope to major in Spanish studies
and then go to Spain to live for a while.
After all, I have relatives in Spain
whom I have never even met. At the university
level, I have experienced, for the most
part, unconditional acceptance and encouragement
from fellow students and professors.
In fact, they are responsible for helping
me to find the confidence to pursue
my goals. However, I do have some friends
within the university who affectionately
refer to me as "wetback" or
"chinchilla breath." I realize
that it is all in good fun,but it's
still disconcerting at times. For the
most part, I let these statements roll
off my back like the waters of the Rio
Grande. --James Gracia
Society
Tells Me That I Am White
I am a single, white female attending
Old Dominion University. I am a senior
majoring in English with a journalism
emphasis. The majority of students in
my journalism classes are male. Fortunately,
I did not feel that certain major fields
of study at Old Dominion University
were closed off to me because of my
gender, race, or class. I changed my
major three times, going from business
administration to art to English. Each
department was more than supportive
and seemed to welcome me with open arms.
I felt very comfortable. I was drawn
to women's studies courses, however,
because of my gender. This is apparent
when observing any of the women's studies
classes at Old Dominion; the students
are predominantly female. Another class
that I chose because of my gender was
"Literature of the Developing World."
It gave some very good insights into
the lives that people from other parts
of the world lead. After reading many
of these novels, one finds that the
lives of people in the developing world
are not quite as different as we think.
Although I can identify with the writings
and philosophies of minority writers,
I am often told that I cannot really
know what they are thinking or how they
feel because I am white. This disturbs
me very much. And why should my understanding
of certain subjects depend on my gender?
Why should women feel hesitant about
breaking into "the man's world
of engineering," or the "male
dominated world of politics?" What
should it matter? Understanding comes
from within. It has nothing to do with
the outer shell of the human body. Sometimes
I struggle with my own identity. Society
tells me that I am white. I am not ashamed
of the white race, but I feel like I
am in some ways slighting my true ethnic
heritage. I am not a white Anglo-Saxon
Protestant, but a white European Catholic.
My parents did not come to America on
the Mayflower, and none of my ancestors
ever lived in, or anywhere near, England.
My father's grandparents immigrated
to the United States in the late 1800's;
my mother immigrated in 1962. The society
in which I have been raised is full
of harmful stereotypes. Whenever I check
"white" in the box on any
form that asks what my race is, a whole
identity goes along with my little check
mark. It is assumed that I come from
a privileged background and that my
ancestors were Pilgrims or plantation
owners. It is also assumed that I am
fair-skinned, blonde-haired, blue-eyed
woman. I am actually brown-eyed, brown-haired,
and olive-skinned. My family may be
from Europe, but until another box is
created for my specific ethnic group,
I will still be called "white."
It is unfortunate that so many people
hold me and other white individuals
accountable for the mistakes of the
past. My ancestors were not even living
in the United States during the time
of slavery. But besides that, we do
not live in the past. We just need to
try to make sure that it is not repeated.
No one should feel that he or she needs
to be silent in certain conversations
because he or she does not have ancestors
who came to America on the Mayflower.
America is a melting pot. It is made
up of a mixture of many great races
and ethnicities, but we all have one
thing in common: we are Americans. We
should all feel equal, and we should
all feel as if we "belong."
One of the reasons that I feel that
I "belong" at Old Dominion
University is because of my class background.
I am lucky enough to come from a privileged
background. College was always expected
to be a part of my life. In December,
I will be the last of four children
who will receive a college degree. If
my parents were not financially secure,
things would probably be different.
I would have had to work twice as hard
so that I could get some kind of financial
assistance. Luckily, I was never faced
with this dilemma. I can't say what
it would be like to be the only woman
in an engineering class, or the only
African American in a sociology class,
because I have never been either. I
do know that no one likes to be the
outcast or the one who just doesn't
blend in. Sometimes being generic is
such a blessing. --Marian Del Donna
The preceeding excerpts were taken
with permission from Ourselves as Students:
Multicultural Voices in the Classroom,
Compiled and Edited by The Broad Minds
Collective (Kaaren Ancarrow, Nan Byrne,
Jean Caggiano, Anita Clair Fellman,
Brigita Martinson). This compilation
of essays by Old Dominion University
students was originally published by
the Southern Illinois University Press,
Carbondale and Edwardsville, Carbondale,
Illinois, 62901. Telephone: (618) 453-6616
. Fax: (618) 453-3787.
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