Reality Shrunk

"I'm the only guy's who's spent his life in the real world."

-Mitt Romney, January 2012

Mr. Romney's words serve as an ideal vehicle for introducing this topic that has been swishing around in my mind for many months.  The terms "reality" and "real world" are used to excuse/exclude specific groups from participating in meaningful action.  Anthropologists know that words such as these, used in broad social patterns, are clues to deciphering underlying cultural attitudes about power and status.  

In my case, I've been paying close attention to the way in which "reality" and "real world" are used in school.  Students, parents, educators and administrators use these terms as synonyms for or allusions to "adulthood," "work world," "professionalism," and "financial worries."  When students turn in sloppy work, dress inappropriately for school, or arrive late to class, adults often chide them by saying something along the lines of, "You'll learn the hard way when you get into the real world," or "In the real world this would never fly!"

What troubles me about using "reality" in this way is the implicit message sent to everyone (students in particular) that what happens in school really doesn't really matter in the larger scheme of things.  The colleagues I have had a the pleasure of laboring with over the past eight years work incredibly hard to ensure that our curriculum both matters and is applicable to real world situations that will serve our students in a number of ways.  And yet, we sell ourselves short when we use the words "real world" in this way, entrenching in everyone's minds a series of deceptively oversimplified binaries: relevant and useless, empowered and powerless, center and periphery.

Also reinforced is the triad of life stages defined in U.S. culture: clearly defined childhood and adulthood, mediated by the shapeless in-betweenness of adolescence - the frustrating period of becoming that remains nebulous even two centuries after its debut.

The misuse of "real world" pains me further because in addition to giving both me and the youth I work with the appearance of being irrelevant, it also strengthens the resolve of many opponents of public education: one billionaire philanthropist declared schools completely irrelevant several years ago, then proceeded to prescribe that schools be re-designed to work more like businesses.  In this election year, not a single major candidate (including the incumbent) espouses policies that express a modicum of faith in public schools or that represent dialogue with the women and men entrusted to ensure that the next generation understand the workings of democracy.

By compressing "reality" into a reduced set of definitions, other hardworking persons (outside of schools, but too many to enumerate here) are suddenly relegated to meaninglessness.  

And the slope becomes terminally slippery when all of a sudden, not even years of civic service or political labor count as "real world" experience.  Mr. Romney's attempt to further collapse reality into so narrow a definition alarms so few because, culturally, most Americans are already comfortable with denying the value of activities that aren't directly connected to producing a monetary profit.  

As ridiculous as proclaiming, "red is the only real color."

Chicano vs. Chicana: Negotiating Identity

I was recently privileged enough to accompany a group of our school's brightest students to a conference at University of Washington.  Our gracious hosts, the students of MEChA de UW, fed us, provided comfortable accommodations, took us on a campus tour, entertained, and programmed a number of other unforgettable experiences for us. 
During one of the workshops, a presenter stood before us and made the following argument:

In our organization, we call ourselves Chicanas or Chicanos. We reject labels like Hispanic or Latino/a, because these words come from European Americans who do not have our best interests in mind.  The choice of calling ourselves Chicanas and Chicanos is about self determination, about not letting someone else decide our identity for us.

I've known about this particular label for years, and have been more familiar with it as a blanket term for people of Mexican descent who are born in the U.S.  The conscious decision to repurpose the word makes perfect sense to me: I absolutely agree with the right to self determination, and one of the recurring lessons I have learned from history is that hegemonic groups seek to cement their position by making their subjects perform a new subservient identity.  This is why during the presentation, I found myself nodding my head and glancing at my students in hopes of seeing some resonance in their body language.
But during all of this, my crap detector was stirring within.
I took my time thinking about the word, but it gradually began to slip from my mind until a couple of weeks ago when Angenette sent me a link to a glossary of slang terms from Buenos Aires.  Between classes, I casually glanced over the list, and there it was: Chicana.
To Rioplatenses, it appears that Chicana carries the meanings of "trap, snare, deceit, swindle, ruse, fraud...."
With this in mind, the task of persuading at least one huge group to re-label themselves as Chicana/o is suddenly much more complicated.  I wonder if MEChIstas have dialogued with Argentinos about this.
I realize, of course that the term Chicano was originally derogatory in Mexico and has since gradually been converted to its modern uses.  The origins of the word are disputed, but it is clear that it comes from one of the indigenous tongues of Mexico.

I welcome the sense of solidarity of purpose that could be achieved through a widespread adoption of a Pan-American identity.  But my greatest reservation against using the term Chicana/o is that it is so Mexi-centric, and I simply am not Mexican.  Sure Mexicans have borne the brunt experiences on the borderland between the U.S., but it seems that so many other experiences (including my own Chileno/Aymara roots) are swallowed up and assimilated into the Chicano term, and this kind of assimilation is exactly what Chicanas/os are fighting against.

Have any of you experienced trouble or confusion about when to use terms like Latina/o, Hispanic, or Chicano/a?  What do you prefer to call yourselves, and in what context?

Of Academics and Airhorns

The choir of a dozen or so students is just finishing up the first verse of a heartfelt, if slightly tremulous rendition of "Bridge Over Troubled Water." The sound system is still working well, and the weather has been unusually cooperative with the graduation 2011 agenda.  A few hundred students sit facing the stage, flanked by educators, families and friend in the football stands to the rear.  Smooth sailing. 

Enter the beach balls.  One of the graduates near the back smuggled one in her/his robes, inflates it, and begins passing it around.  A teacher sitting behind me murmurs, "and here we go!"  A few giggles escape the stands as a palpable tension descends over the proceedings.

All eyes are on Ms. Habermas, the quasi-autocratic building administrator whose policies and practices have regimented the school, agitating some in the process.  She glowers, hawk-like, weighing a course of action.  Only a few seconds go by before she acts: she shoots out of her seat, strides a good 15-20 steps off the stage, toward the center of the graduates, and grabs the beach ball, returning to stage.  She tosses the ball lightly into the air and smacks it, with the decisiveness of an experienced volleyball player, over the curtains to the rear of the stage and out of sight.

Boos erupt from across the audience - noisy, extended boos of the sort usually reserved for vaudeville evildoers.  Things settle down for the time, and the ceremony continues.