On placing heart before efficiency

For what links us are elemental experiences--emotions--forces that have no intrinsic language and must be imagined as art if they are to be contemplated at all.--Joyce Carol Oates

Last week I learned my term of the year. Efficiency engineer. Professor Celeste Watkins-Hayes taught me this phrase while giving a talk on her new book about welfare case workers. Her research shows that today's welfare bureaucrats frequently embody two competing professional identities: the social worker who attempts to respond in holistic ways to the clients before her, and the efficiency engineer who focuses on enforcing policy benchmarks, such as limiting families' access to resources when they break the rules. In Massachusetts, for example, individuals can only receive  cash assistance for 24 months of a 60-month period (see the Urban Institute for more on this state's welfare policies).

The efficiency engineer ensures that individuals get their butts out of the welfare system. Stat. And the system rewards those case workers who not only get clients off the state till accurately and quickly but also sanction those who are too incompetent to find non-existent jobs in our terrible economy and/or insufficiently entrepreneurial when it comes time to do something with the kids while they work.

The aspect of Watkins-Hayes's talk that really got my wheels spinning involved the complex ways that race plays out in case worker-client interactions. More and more case workers are people of color, and Watkins-Hayes argues that racialized politics imbue their professional identities. For example, one male African American case worker emphasized the ongoing racial discrimination in the labor market that he--like his clients--faces. As he said (and I paraphrase), "I don't care if I have an eight-piece suit on. I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting certain jobs or promotions."

Several of the case workers of color in Watkins-Hayes's research also sought to promote racial uplift via solidarity with the clients. They understood the structural barriers to landing and keeping a decent job. As one African American case worker and previous welfare recipient stated, "The old saying is pull yourself up by your bootstraps, but suppose you don't have any shoes?" When helping clients navigate the welfare system, then, these case workers sought to be more culturally responsive and empathetic than the strict efficiency engineer who asserted, "Policy is policy, regardless of whether you are black, white, green or whatever."

Although I immediately wanted to celebrate the more culturally competent bureaucrat, Watkins-Hayes slammed the brakes on this impulse. She pointed out that even those who deviated from the professional script so as to better meet the needs of their clients still engaged in morality policing. As vested members of the system who wanted to keep their jobs, these case workers often "helped" clients by demanding that they modify individual behaviors. "Hang around people you want to be like," one advised. "Why is your boo at home sleeping rather than pounding the pavement?" another admonished. Unfortunately, such prescriptions did not challenge the institutional rules that ultimately sustain poverty and racism in the U.S. (Having trouble believing that racism and poverty are structural problems? Check out the Poverty and Race Research Action Council's studies for evidence that will make your head spin, unless your head is wedged so willfully in the sand that major sensory pathways are thoroughly blocked.) What is more, and as Watkins-Hayes noted, cultural insiders who want to raise the status of their group in the larger society may actually engage in more rigorous and harsh policing of individual members' lives than outsiders.

Leaving her presentation fairly depressed about the multiple, subtle mechanisms that prevent us from acting up in the name of justice, I was thankful to attend Jay Winter Nightwolf's talk later that day. Called "Reality at Pine Ridge Reservation," the presentation included Nightwolf's stark narration of the extreme poverty that many Lakota people presently face. (The reservation has an unemployment rate of about 80%, and 49% of its inhabitants live below the federal poverty level.) However, he also brought a message of hope to the university-based folks in the audience.

Underscoring the inextricable connections between all members of the human family, Nightwolf asked us to accept the responsibility of being each other's keepers. This particular appeal immediately reminded me of an utterance by a new bureaucrat of color in Watkins-Hayes's study: "I am my sister's keeper." Watkins-Hayes emphasized that such keeping can serve as a kind of surveillance--you better shape up and not behave like a low-life who gives "our" people a bad name. In contrast, Nightwolf spoke of extending our hearts, not our intellects, to those we encounter. The most judgmental thing I heard out of his mouth that night was (and again I paraphrase), "Some people make it so difficult to love them, but we've got to keep trying because separation and division are what lead to war." No wonder my chest tightens and my stomach convulses when we academics adopt both social worker and efficiency engineer identities in our discussions about what constitutes "good education." Elemental experiences linking us. At least Oates, a professor at Princeton University since 1978, gets it.

On getting involved: In support of the DREAM Act

Sharing our stories is what makes the movement happen.--Matias Ramos

Thanks to a motivated graduate student, activists/educators Kent Wong and Matias Ramos came to our education building this morning and asked audience members to weigh in on--that is, to make a difference in--the passage of the DREAM Act. But Wong did not immediately dive into the problems confronting undocumented college students.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=MqgOSWv75xc

Instead, he started with immigrant worker issues. After all, and as Wong noted later, undocumented students, even if they do manage to graduate from college, cannot work legally in the United States under current laws.

I appreciated Wong's unabashed language as he spoke of the "wage theft" and "unregulated work" experienced by many undocumented laborers in the United States. He asserted (and I paraphrase),

Unscrupulous employers can get away with basic violations of labor law, including offering no overtime pay, paying workers less than the minimum wage, and breaking public safety codes, because immigrant laborers do not have legal status. Not only do they have few avenues to pursue their rights, but they also fear being fired, deported, and/or raided by ICE in their workplaces, or worse, their own homes.

Enter an innovative UCLA class wherein students studied undocumented youth's experiences. As Wong noted in the book that resulted from this class, Underground Undergrads, the students, both documented and undocumented, "researched legal and legislative issues, conducted interviews, and collected photos, poems, and spoken-word pieces." The students' powerful and horrifying stories appear in this book as well as the short film, Lost & Found, available for free on YouTube.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=jI7J2b3t4WU

I have a hard time imagining how policymakers and lay people alike could support the deportation of these "extraordinary young people," as Wong rightfully calls them. Even our more conservative brethren would be daft or downright evil to blame these youth for arriving in this country through no decision of their own.

Oh wait! I forgot about Tom Tancredo, that oh-so-venerable representative from my home state. Wong recounted the story of Tancredo appealing for Tam Tran's immediate removal from the Capitol--as well as her arrest, and deportation--while she testified in support of the DREAM Act. Tran, who came to America at the age of six as a Vietnamese refugee, is currently pursuing her PhD in American Studies at Brown University. (She is also the creator of Lost & Found and a contributor to Underground Undergrads.) But no matter. According to Tancredo (via Migra Matters):

I call on the Immigration and Customs Enforcement Agency to detain any illegal aliens at this press conference. Just because these illegal aliens are being used for political gain doesn’t mean they get immunity from the law.

His words would be humorous if not said in earnest and if they did not reinforce a sentiment incessantly heard on the airwaves.

Wong observed that the voices of students who are immediately and negatively impacted by our current immigration policies have the power to drown out this "fierce anti-immigrant sentiment." He also emphasized that in times of economic recession, U.S. citizens and institutions have historically scapegoated poor workers of color. Nothing new there. What is new is Blingee.com. This website allows me to highlight one of the people whom I wish would get more airtime when discussing contributors to economic crises and subprime mortgage lending.

Alas. Until that day comes, I will take solace in knowing that Ramos and other young activists have successfully organized a 26-state coalition called United We Dream. I will also become more involved.

On "Who decides?": Lessons from Professor Rebecca Tsosie

"If we don't change our direction, we're going to wind up where we're heading." So concluded law professor Rebecca Tsosie, borrowing from The Wisdom of Reuben Snake, in her talk, "The Challenge of Pluralism: Native Nations and U.S. Justice." This exceedingly thoughtful and spunky woman asserted that anger is the driving force for her work. I immediately liked her.

Tsosie repeatedly asked provocative questions, like, "Do we have a right to culture in the United States?" She subsequently offered historical evidence of such unconscionable laws as the Code of Indian Offenses. In the process, she roundly ruled out a positive answer to this question. I learned, for example, that offenders of the Code, which banned native religions and healing ceremonies among several other things, were imprisoned, without due process, until 1934.

Unfortunately, our provost had already left the scene (she spoke as part of the Provost's Conversations on Diversity, Democracy, and Higher Education) when I asked my question from the audience: "You have presented legal contestations of and remedies to hegemonic democratic and neoliberal economic principles in the present-day U.S. I am curious what you think of a multi-pronged approach to social justice that includes grassroots activism and coalition-building?" I added, "You might have heard about the student organizing on this campus during the past week."

Tsosie first responded by stating how proud she is of our students. She then explained how the adjudication process of many tribal councils transcends narrow legalistic notions of righting wrongs. More specifically, Tsosie highlighted the councils' commitment to inclusion and harmonious relationships. These councils do not demand that participants meet particular criteria before they can come to the table and weigh in. Rather, a desire to create a collective solution to a problem signifies the sole "requirement." She concluded that such a framework represents a way to heal the injustices of the past and linked it to the Dalai Lama's universal moral principles.

To quote His Holiness,

I believe that one of the principal factors that hinder us from fully appreciating our interdependence is our undue emphasis on material development. We have become so engrossed in its pursuit that, unknowingly, we have neglected the most basic qualities of compassion, caring and cooperation. When we do not know someone or do not feel connected to an individual or group, we tend to overlook their needs. Yet, the development of human society requires that people help each other. (See complete statement to the 1993 UN World Conference here.)

If more of us tapped into the courage and strength shown by Rebecca Tsosie and the Dalai Lama, I have to believe that the question, "Who decides?" would have a decidedly different answer than the currently restrictive one so many of us accept. Moreover, we could move onto the important work of deciding to better the world we leave to future generations.

On the subtlety of white supremacy in the classroom: A parent's letter to a principal

Dear Ms. S,

Per your request, I am writing you a detailed account of the conversation that my daughter and I shared last night (11/4/09) before bedtime. S came to me, very confused, and asked me, "Am I a slave?" I wasn't sure where she was going with the subject, so I assured her that slavery is a state of mind and as long as her mind was free her soul would never be held in bondage. When I questioned the source of this question, she informed me that Ms. C said "a long time ago, I would have been a slave" and in S's words, Ms. C then pointed out all of the brown kids in the class and said "you would be a slave, you would be a slave, you would be a slave" (etc. ad nauseum). I was DEEPLY disturbed by this conversation and regardless of Ms. C's intent during this "lesson," the perceived intent and comprehension by my 7 year old daughter was not one of historical reference, but rather one where any person of color in her classroom must be less than their white counterparts because brown people were once slaves.

However, for the record, I have taught and will continue to teach my children that there was a very ugly period in American history when Europeans kidnapped and savagely murdered and beat people of African descent into a forced indentured servitude which later became a systematic system of slavery which persisted well into the 20th century and the residual effects of that system is still evident today in the horrifying display of so-called lesson where children of color are still ostracized and stigmatized into believing that their history began and ended with slavery.

I am asking your help in resolving this matter and if needed, I will be available on November 11th to discuss this in detail with the administration, as well as the teacher in question.

Thank you so much,
K.

And thanks to Tara Mack of the Education for Liberation Network for passing this along.

On diversity: E-mail to the provost

May 11, 2009

Dear Provost,

I am an assistant professor in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction who is writing to express my concern regarding the University response--or lack of response--to a prospective student. I fear that this non-responsiveness greatly undercuts this university's stated commitment to diversity, and I believe the anecdote that I describe below speaks to institutional rather than individual issues. I am therefore writing with the hope that you will invest in improving our institution's treatment of "non-traditional" students.

I recently read through the online diversity plan recommendations. There I found the statement,"The Provost said we should help students who are willing to work hard and have talent." Someone close to me is such a person. She is 32 years old and comes from a working-class family that has instilled in her the value of hard work as well as the right to be treated with respect and dignity. I would call her an "organic intellectual" given her curiosity about the world, self-education about social and environmental issues, and voracious reading habit. Her parents did not attend college and when she graduated from high school, various factors, including her sexual orientation, influenced her decision not to pursue a higher education degree at that time.

Now she is ready to pursue an undergraduate degree and has a meaningful [academic] vision...I thus encouraged her to contact the UMCP undergraduate admissions office. She did so and did not receive a response. She also contacted the academic program in which she was interested and was told to contact admissions. Therefore, she contacted the admissions office again. She still has not heard back from this office. What is more, she discovered and contacted the Returning Students Program and never heard back from the person who was supposed to return her call. Understandably, she is now frustrated and unsure that College Park is the university for her.

Due to her experience, I am left wondering how many prospective students have received this sort of treatment from the institution in which I work? I have no doubt that she would make wonderful, significant contributions to a department and the larger campus community. Accordingly, if she decides to look elsewhere, our university loses an excellent student as well as an opportunity to walk its talk on improving campus diversity.

I am committed to improving our university's diversity plan and hope we can work together to ensure that we do not lose capable, talented students because we fail to respond to them. I would be pleased to discuss this issue with you further and look forward to seeing you tomorrow at McKeldin Library.

Respectfully,
C.E.N.

Addressing inequities in our own backyard

I have just returned from an intense qualitative research course session in which I pushed my students to acknowledge and work through the stuff blocking our ability to "dialogue across difference." I am blessed, teaching where I do for the remainder of this academic year, to have a students with a range of ethnic, national, racial, class, gender, ability, linguistic, religious, and sexual identities show up each week for our three-hour seminar. This diversity affords a range of perspectives that, when we are not rolling our eyes at one another or totally clueless about how much time and space we are taking up, allows us to think more critically about our own assumptions and behaviors. Yet, I mostly just feel exhausted. Not energized. The institution in which I work and, perhaps more appropriately my department, do not want to spend time and energy figuring out how we can create meaningful learning opportunities from this diversity. Rather, we seem obsessed with rankings, program requirements, and budgets. These are lean times, and we have to figure out how to survive through them. Yes. But if the goal of a university is also to expand horizons--to think about vantage points we have never considered, to venture into the world of ideas to help us resolve real-world problems, to envision different ways of thinking, being, and feeling that could benefit our communities, societies, and Earth--then I feel like we have seriously gone awry. We have reduced conversations around the water cooler to money, enrollment (which also, baldly, means $), and the continuation of individuals' pet programs. How did I get here, again?

I have admittedly consumed a few beers and could suitably be accused of venting. But I sincerely wish at this late hour that more of us would stand up and say, "NO! We reject the bottom line as an adequate measure of our work. We will not allow our class sizes to exceed a certain number because of how large classes compromise our students' learning and our own ability to have a life beyond work. We will not take on another class, another student, another committee, and/or any other additional work-related responsibility because such an action will undermine our ability to be present to our colleagues and students." Then, a student comes into my office. She begins to cry out of frustration, a very similar frustration--I surmise--to my own. And I realize that all of this "rightsizing" most deeply affects those we are (I am) here to teach, mentor, and advise. Now I'm back to the realm of actual human beings, and all I can say? This sucks.

One reason to go: budget cuts = loss of "fluffy" people and programs

As our public institutions continue to take a beating in the seemingly endless U.S. quest for efficiency and an easy buck, I am not surprised at the firing of Assistant Provost of Equity and Diversity Cordell Black at the University of Maryland, College Park (link to student newspaper article here). I agree with Black, however, that honesty from administrators about their clear hierarchy of priorities (#1: reach the level of our "aspirational peers" in the U.S. News & World Report rankings) would at least alleviate the outrage felt by many. Sometimes I wonder where this neoliberal regime is ultimately going to lead us. In my more hopeful moments, I think people are going to stand up and demand decent wages, worker protections, and respect. After all, even if 1% of the U.S. population holds a ginormous amount of the wealth, we non-gated community members hold a lot of power in our sheer number. Plus, I really don't think people enjoy being exploited or treated like inferior colonial subjects. On the bad days, when I fear that hyper-individualism has replaced a desire for solidarity and sustainability, I imagine a generation of self-absorbed, consuming workaholics who will be (are?) too distracted to pay any attention to the harm we are doing to our youth--the next generation. And then? The fall of Rome, twenty-first century style. I blame my mother for the dramatic flair. (JK, JDN.)

On quitting...

I intended to start this blog for months but apparently needed to utter three words to my dean to make that plan a reality: "I am leaving."

Academe is a funny thing. Granted, I have only been a "doctor" for two-and-a-half years and an assistant professor for one-plus. But, anecdotally at least, I have surmised that far too many of us in the university are simply good students. Multiple role models along the way--parents, teachers, coaches, religious leaders, school counselors, our own professors--patted us on the back and told us that we were smart. "You have such good ideas." "You're really a talented writer." "Have you thought about graduate school?" "The university could really use a mind like yours." With enough positive reinforcement, a well-lit path follows.

To paraphrase a teacher whom I know and love, success is a self-perpetuating phenomenon. Failure, on the other hand, sparks some of the most fruitful learning opportunities. I cannot really say I am a failed academic since I have consciously chosen to go. A quitter, perhaps? I can live with that title, as some of my most meaningful--and beneficial--lessons in life resulted from walking away. To maintain the title "confident quitter," however, one definitely has to ignore the naysayers who repeatedly fire doom and gloom messages, especially those who elected to stay in the fold. My favorite admonition as of late goes something like this: "Must you really pursue such a radical solution to this problem?"

I understand that 20+ years of schooling means I may very well have lost touch with reality. As a result, my eminent departure from the echelons of higher education raises doubts about about my ability to survive beyond the cinder-block and bathroom-tiled world of the university, which is the modern day, public version of my ivory tower. (More on the takeover of the neoliberal regime to come.) Thankfully, I come home to a partner who states matter-of-factly, "You're leaving a job you don't like. What's so crazy about that?"