Intent and Effect

Had dinner and had a long warm shower. I feel exhausted. I cried in class tonight, well, after class.

So there we were, talking about Conflict Theory and Functionalism - how the dominant class imposes universal norms on the subordinate class, creating false consciousness that fosters a hegemony. It was unavoidable, then, to talk about the different classes and how people who earn less usually go to schools that do not provide a curriculum that is as challenging and fulfilling as the curriculum of the schools where the more economically advantaged go. In effect, in a functionalist society, "poor" kids get "bad" education, and therefore land low-paying jobs; while "rich" kids get "good" education, and therefore land high-paying jobs. The "poor" remain "poor," the "rich" remain "rich." However, functionalists argue that if an individual tries "hard enough," he/she will eventually succeed. Conflict Theory (which yes, borrows a lot from Marxism) says that this isn't necessarily true, therefore the subordinate class must create conflict to instigate change.

The discussion turned into the role of education in our functionalist society and the roles we, as teachers, take in the propagation of one theory over the other. One of my classmates said that while it is unfortunate that class dictate who becomes successful in life, at the end of the day, she would prefer a surgeon who had good grades in school rather than a surgeon who did so-so in school - and in effect, choosing the surgeon who came from a "good" school.

Another classmate, however, felt that grades did not necessarily reflect the skill of a person in the real world. He gave himself as an example. He said that he did poorly in school, but he thinks he's doing pretty well as a teacher. He even went so far as to say, "I wouldn't want a teacher who had a 4.0 GPA in college to go near my kids. He wouldn't know how to speak to my daughter."

Well.

I might not have gotten a 4.0 GPA, but I did pretty well in school. I would've been excellent had Math not been a requirement (curse you, Mathematics!) and I am now maintaining a 4.0 GPA in grad school (whew, no more Math). But I don't want my performance in school to be held against me. Bad grades should not be used to make untrue and hasty generalizations about people's performance in the real world - and neither should good grades! I told him that it was unfair to make those statements, especially since it implied that I would not be an effective teacher. Schooling is not the only factor that influences a person's ability. I grew up in a third world nation where good education is a luxury, even though it is said that it is a right.  Does that not at least affect my effectiveness in the classroom with regards to being able to reach out to the students who are doing poorly in school? I think that that should be enough grounds to say that I would know "how to speak" to that that guy's daughter. Bad grades do not a person make, and neither do good grades. I refuse to believe that my being a good student deters me from being a well-rounded person! I told him that he should not be making generalizations about one extreme while desiring not to be held against the generalizations made about the other extreme.

Suddenly, Mark (not his real name), another classmate of mine said he had had it with the generalizations made in class. He took offense with how the class was using words like "They" and "Them" to stress how the subordinate class was this entity that was so separate from who they were ("they" meaning my classmates). As a teacher in a racially diverse school, he felt that the least the class could do was to name "them" if they were going to talk about "their" situation. African American. Latino. Asians. Poor.

Well, that opened a nasty can of worms. Immediately, my other classmates went on the defensive. He was telling the class the disappointment he felt and the others took it against him. Up until that point in class, I was limiting myself to the theoretical arguments about functionalism and conflict theory. There were a lot of generalizations going around and I chose not to play the race chip, even though there were only two other girls who were not white (one was African American, the other was Latina). I always find it interesting (to put it mildly) to watch white people talk about racism and class inequality and see them talk about it passionately. I often wonder what they would feel like if they were the ones who were different. But here was a white man (and in any society, that is the best representative of any dominant class: educated, white, male) and he was standing up for me and the other "people of color"! He was a virtual stranger, but I felt as if he knew exactly what I was feeling.

At one of the lulls that followed the heated arguments, I said that there is a difference between intent and effect. While the others might not have intended their words to have that effect, the effect is undeniable. Mark was offended, and frankly, so was I. He just had the chutzpah to say it, I didn't. And in the final analysis, I think effect is more important. Intent is debatable, effect is undeniable. I couldn't understand how my classmates' resentment over the perceived accusation of some mild form of racism takes precedence over Mark's real offense to the language my classmates inadvertently used.

The class ended soon after that because we really were at a standstill. Tempers were flaring and it was really very uncomfortable. When everyone was filing out, I shook his hand and said, "Thank you." I meant to say more, but I couldn't let go of his hand and I started to cry. I was so overwhelmed by his bravery to speak up for someone who was so unlike him. Finally, since I couldn't let go of his hand (because I could hardly stand anymore), he hugged me and he said, "Thank you."

Wow.

Dreaming A Nation To Be

School's definitely back. I wrote this as a requirement for a class. We were asked to think about "nation" - what it means, how is formed, etc. I ended up writing this. I wasn't bargaining on it being this personal, but there you go.

I can't wait to go back home.

Edited on: 1/15/2008. I added a few things to my paper so I edited it here as well. :-) Some parts from the original paper are left out, though, as they are very personal in nature.

***

My family and I moved to Grand Rapids on 2001. I had just graduated from college and idealism was flowing quite healthily through my veins. I did not want to move to the States – at the point when we moved, I had already begun living on my own and I wanted to stay behind and do my own thing in the Philippines. Kicking and screaming though, I joined my family.

I never shared my fellow Filipinos’ fascination with the US. I have tons of kababayans (Filipino for “countrymen.” Bayan means “country.” The prefix ka- is the same as “co-" in “co-worker”) living illegally in this country because it promises more money, more stability, and more opportunities for growth. I, on the other hand, am afflicted with the haughtiness that comes with the city-born and bred upper-middle class. Growing up, I already had money, I already had stability, and I already had opportunities for growth. Instead of viewing America as a land of opportunity, I thought it was the land of excess. I resented it because my country always saw itself as inferior in relation to America.

When 9/11 happened, my heart went out to those who died and to those who were left behind. To combat the growing hatred against foreigners that came in its aftershock, I remember seeing an ad campaign airing over and over again. A diverse bunch of individuals were saying the words, “I am an American.” They managed to pick individuals that looked nothing like each other, and their message was clear: stop picking on the foreigners. Despite best efforts though, for the first time in my life, I felt horribly different. Suddenly, we were the enemy just because we were different. We live in Grand Rapids, and we couldn’t be more different than all the other Van Somethings and De Somethings.

I decided to go back home after just 6 months in the US. When I got back home, I embraced my idealism with vim and vigor. I was determined to make something of myself, and I tried to turn my back away from my bourgeoisie background. What I ended up doing was a compromise between my idealistic and pragmatic self: I became a teacher, I helped shape the next generation…in an exclusive, prestigious, and expensive Catholic all-boys high school. I was teaching boys who had pretty much the same hoity-toity background I have, but I wanted them to realize that they could and should go beyond that. I still wonder how effectively I was able to do that.

Now, I live here in Grand Rapids again, with my husband, as a full time graduate student. I still harbor the same resentments I had before, albeit now with a tinge of sadness. It was a sad day when I grew old enough to realize that my parents were human and made mistakes – it’s the same now that I see that America isn’t so great after all. I am more forgiving of the US and its citizens. Ignorance more than hatred fuels so many of its people and while it is a constant struggle to remind myself to rise above the situation, I know I need to; the scornful look, the hushed voices, or worse, the quasi-benign, overly-saccharine smiles of condescension notwithstanding.

Reading about Beowulf’s journey to Denmark, to help a nation that wasn’t his own, I started rethinking about the guilt I felt at abandoning my own country. When Beowulf and his company arrived at Denmark, Hrothgar’s herald and officer said, “Stoutness of heart / bravery not banishment, must have brought you to / Hrothgar” (337-339). Beowulf saw a huge challenge awaiting him at Hrothgar’s kingdom, and he took it, and ultimately, his success there began what was to be his great legacy. His experiences in a different country allowed him to be a better ruler for his own country. I could only wish to do the same as a teacher.

I believe that a nation relies mostly on its people for its identity and I struggle with this because I am trying my best to define who I am in the context of my home country and the country that now educates me – so that I may educate my own people. I am but one person, but I know I help define my nation; in the same way I know that one racist (insert swear word) does not define this nation.

But it is problematic to define what a nation is because people are no longer limited by borders. My being over and beyond the borders of my country has made me think more about my nation and my nationality more. I now look and think about my nationality in terms of how it is shaped by my being here. I am more known for my nationality now more than ever (pretty much the same way that Beowulf was the Geat who saved the Danes) and I find that I have to disconnect who I am from where I come from long enough to understand how those two aspects of myself are intrinsically joined. I live in a constant state of juxtaposition and while the situation may not be the most comfortable, the realizations bring much comfort.

Yes, too many of us are hungry for food, education, attention, and the chance to make a better life. I listen to my classmates who teach in cushy districts and they complain of inattentive students and I think about the children back home who have to make do with the shade of a mango tree for a classroom. And they have to compete with ants to sit on the muddy soil underneath it. I think of the teacher who teaches 50-70 students at a time for a pittance, who chooses to remain in the country to teach despite the exodus of other teachers to become domestic helpers in countries far and away. But we laugh, and boy how we laugh. And we dream, and we have big dreams.

It’s snowing again outside and I’ll probably have another bowl of cold cereal for breakfast and that’s about as un-Filipino as my morning can get (oh, to have the warmth of a muggy, tropical sun, and the smell of roasting garlic and rice!) This paper has also taken a life of its own – I did not intend for it to be thing long and personal. But this is precisely why I am grateful to be here: to study, to be outside my comfort zone, and to learn things I otherwise would never have learned had I not left home – so that I could go back home and hopefully be a better teacher. A friend of mine said that there is a resurgence of the desire to either go back home or give back to our country within our generation of Filipinos living abroad. Dare I say, we are going to be the ones who will define our nation.