Out of Darkness: by Amadeuz Christ Ơ

In this short video clip I speak with Amadeuz Christ, C.E.O Vigilance Records LLC., recording artist, producer, engineer, video director and newbie film director of the groundbreaking documentary Out of Darkness.  Out of Darkness is a three act documentary starred by some of the most genius sociopolitical, minds of the 21st century.   The framework is a visually stunning, intelligently introspective, archaeologically-sound masterpiece.  Act I, A War on History, vividly illustrates why so called African Americans (Pan Africans) continue to suffer daily injuries in every sphere of life.  I give you the architect: Brother Amadeuz Christ. 

Act I: African Civilization: A War on History – Why?

Professor Kaba Hiawatha Kamene:

“As we begin to look at who we are as a people and as we begin to look at the role Africa has played in the shaping of our intellectual world (our achievements historically) you will begin to understand why there is a war on history.  For a people to oppress another people there are three things you must take from them: their history, language and psychological factor.  The psychological factors are the values, interests and principles (VIPs).  Take their VIPs from them and then, superimpose your history, language and VIPs and no matter what conclusions they come to in the challenges they face they will always act in the interest of the oppressor who took their history, language and VIPs.  So when we wonder why the choices we make never serve our best interest, we have to change the paradigm. We have to study our history, our language and our values, interests and principles.”

Prof. Umar Johnson:

“Without question there is a war on African history.  The war on Black history is only a larger symptom of a much larger war against the opportunity for African people to resurrect themselves.  Knowledge of self is not the goal but, a means to become an independent self-sufficient people.”

James Smalls:

“The War against African people is about rulership of the world; it’s about rulership of the planet and access to raw materials and resources in the continent of Africa and parts of the world where African people live in Central and South America and, the Pacific islands.” 

In a November 20^th 2014 post titled: The Rise of Puerto Rico's Nationalist Labor Movement: The Politics of Resilience I wrote in honor of Puerto Rican Nationalist & Freedom Fighter Oscar Lopez Rivera.  Here I lucidly illustrate Professor James Small’s indictment of US Imperialism on African & Pan African people. 

“The North American ‘Fair’ Trade Act which (currently), installs corporate factory farms and insular governments in Mexico to protect US corporate interest while consequently, driving small farmers out of their own lands and forcing them to immigrate to the United States in search of work (where they are then criminalized, imprisoned via the private industrial prison complex or, forced to work in the “Black” market without labor rights) parallels the Jones-Costigan Act of 1930.

The Jones-Costigan Act imposed a quota on production and exports of sugar to the US causing 15, 000 laborers to lose their jobs and join 150,000 unemployed laborers in Puerto Rico. Small and medium growers were penalized by mills whom refused to grind sugar and by US banks who denied financing of their crops. As a result of the quota, sugar growers faced the possibility of losing their crops and land.   According to an article published by Emilio Pantojas-Garcia titled: Puerto Rican Popularism Revisited: The PPD During the 1940's "Throughout a five year period (1931 – 36) a total of 207 laborer and small/medium farmer strikes occurred; 91 happened in less than one year from July 1933 – June 1934." 

Puerto Rico’s radical politics has never been a part of (U.S) elementary, middle and high school text books.  I vividly remember illustrations of benevolent Europeans generously giving indigenous Native Americans corn, turkey and squash; child-like depictions of brown men and womyn docile, defenseless and dependent.  These depictions insidiously coded our consent to inferiority.  Why would my elders leave what they referred to as “La Isla del Encanto” (the island of enchantment) for inner city slums and humiliating welfare rations?  I never knew my people struggled against US imperialism consequently, I inherited shame.  I did not want to be associated with being Puerto Rican.  I refused to speak Spanish.  It wasn’t until my late teens when I began interacting with dark skin Dominicans (from the Dominican Republic) that I began speaking a little Spanish. 

Dr. Joy DeGruy, a renowned researcher, educator, presenter and author of Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome explains not understanding your history causes the psyche to experience cognitive dissonance: “Black Americans who are trying to distance themselves from anything having to do with Africa do so because they’ve bought into the false notion that African culture is not worthy.  Yet, it is not understanding your history that leads to the trauma we see which results in [“I just need to escape from this”…] becoming afraid of what you don’t understand.  When you understand it; you can navigate it.”

Fear blocks memory.  It’s hard to remember life before six or five yet some moments cut into your being like shard glass scarring the spirit.  “Esta jodia negra!” Nola growled.  Valeria wet the bed, again.  Shrinking with fear, the six year old braced herself for the blow hoping it would not find her face although, unlike the echoing “I regret the day you were born,” the sting eventually wore away.   Valeria had caramel skin, a broad nose, full lips and soft wooly hair; a lighter skinned version of her Afro-Taino mahogany-hued father, Joaquin.   Nola, an almond toned, curvaceous, curly mopped and petite statured island beauty said memories of Joaquin commenced and ended with the opening and shutting of an eye – literally.   One day, Joaquin came home from his factory job to an empty apartment; his family was gone. 

It was winter when Nola arrived to the new place with Magdalena her first born five year old, Valeria her three year old and Clara, her one year old.  Even though Joaquin did not know where they were, the fear and violence followed them.  “Why did you have to come out with hair like your father’s family!” slamming the handle of the bone-dense hair brush against the skull sent Valeria into a spastic squirm.  “Stop crying!” Nola threatened the six year old.  Self hatred dried her tears and swallowed her cry.  In the bathroom Valeria climbed on the toilet seat and pinched the flesh of her nostrils pulling the rounded tip of her nose upward.  “I hate you,” she said to the mirror. 

Winter released its grip and Nola no longer needed to warm their clothes in the oven.   The summer sun beat down on the concrete pavement outside. No trees on their street to shade them from the heat.  When the hot humidity became unbearable somebody would go outside and pry open the fire hydrant in front of the five story tenement building; the only edifice on the street.  One of the guys would place the hollowed shaft of a large can at the mouth of the fire hydrant funneling the water to ‘pump’ out fiercely in an upwards arch.  “The pump is open!” someone would yell.  Anyone, who came outside, a kid, a teenager (and depending on your relationship with the adult) and parent was game for being soaked; it forced us to laugh at and with each other.  Everyone jumped in and out of the water arch; gasping for air and chasing each other around. 

One summer day, Nola walked into the living room with a six foot two, larger than life dark skinned man in a police uniform.  “Pol,” Nola said in a heavy Puertorican accent “esta es, Valeria.” [This one, is Valeria.]  Arms crossed in front of her, Valeria refused to give him eye contact.  “Esta, hmm, tiene un jenio!” [This one, she has a temper,”] Nola warned.  Paul bent over and with his index finger playfully poked the six year old in the ribs.  “Stop!” she grudgingly giggled trying to stay hard-faced.  But, Paul picked her up, swung her around high in the air and dropped her back down onto the sofa chair, with a thud.  Before she could stop herself, Valeria laughed hard. Somehow that small act of pursuing her laughter let her know he cared.  

Paul, was the first man to earn the most precious gift she could ever offer - trust.  Months later, he carried a large musical instrument up five flights of stairs to our apartment; it was as tall as Valeria.  The long, oval shaped, wooden body made different sounds when he tapped the top with his palm or fingers.  Paul called it a Conga and when he left that night, the Conga stayed as if promising his return.  Nola changed when he was around; she smiled, laughed and played music while she cooked.  One evening, Valeria began to dance to Paul’s drumming; her timely movements soulfully synched trial and triumph, joy and sorrow.  “Oh, my God, look! This one, she’s African,” Nola pointed in shock.  Her arms, legs, head and torso flowed to his rhythm, like a river in its bed.  Valeria beamed with pride when Nola and her comadres said “Asta se parese a el…puede ser su hija.”

After two summers, an overshadowing sorrow darkened Nola's eyes and pursed her smile.  Valeria was awoken by Nola’s angry whispers.  Through foggy vision, Valeria saw Paul kneeling before Nola.  She faintly overheard Paul begging “por favor no me deje.”  “No, Pol! Ya son tres años que tengo esperando y tu no dejas esa mujer.”  Valeria drifted back to sleep.   Days and then, weeks went by without a visit from Paul.  With her head cocked to one side, now almost nine years old Valeria asked her mother “Mami, where is Paul?”   “Paul is not coming back,” she blurted without any explanation about the man she loved like a father.  Valeria’s heart took a free-fall leaving her numb and lost in bitter resentment.   

Magdalena, affectionately  called Maggie by family and friends was fair-skinned and had silky, curly, jet-black hair down to her waist; everyone said how beautiful she was and that she was the spitting image of Nola.  At 10 years of age Maggie was forced to get up early, make breakfast, dress and comb both Valeria and Clara’s hair.  Together the three girls walked about a half a mile or more through somewhat desolate streets, to school.  Nola’s migraines kept her in and out of a fog of pain.  When she was not in pain she was easily enraged.  If they woke her in the morning there was hell to pay.  She was Catholic but, never went to church.  Valerie didn’t have the language to explain church was never a welcoming or nurturing place.  Life size paintings of white angels shooting their arrows at brown and black demons caused her to feel suspected, accused and condemned to hell. 

In catechism class, one day, Valeria just couldn’t take it anymore.  She raised her hand and asked “why are all the angels White and all the demons brown?” The fair skinned teacher offered no response just a perplexed, indignant and disapproving look.  Just as she turned 10 years of age, Valerie completed her requirements for “communion”.  On graduation day she was fitted in an all white ensemble with a tiara, gloves and cape. After the ceremony Nola took Valeria to a photo studio and had professional photos taken.  Weeks later, Nola returned from the photo studio without the photos.  The owner of the shop told her he had been burglarized.  There were no photos to remind Valerie of her spiritual subjugation but the memory of God remained statically oppressive and estranged.  She never went back to Church and wanted nothing to do with “God”.      

The first time Valeria ever saw a Black saint was at Sarah’s house.  She shyly glanced at the altar of African figurines, with candles, beads, water, flowers and sage offerings.  Sarah’s honey colored skin was similar to Valeria's.  Her hands were pudgy and warm, loving to the touch.  Her laughter bounced off the wall and hugged you.  We lovingly called her Madrina Sara even though she was only Maggie's godmother.  Sarah would sing “Que viva Chango!....que viva Chango!” Valerie had no clue what it meant but, she loved the rhythm and transcendence in Sarah’s voice; she went somewhere when she sang that.  Valerie was so curious about this dually beautifully affirming yet, dark unspoken part of her culture and belief system.  She wondered why her elders, who prayed, received spiritual and cultural strength and guidance from these Black saints, songs and sagging practices also attributed negative or ugliness to being African or Black. 

During the late Spring, on weekends, Valerie would go up to the tar roof of the tenement where she watched the planes fly overhead; closing her eyes she imagined herself on them.  She didn’t just wonder; she (mind) traveled to distant places.  Twelve years later, while walking across campus Valerie was approached by her journalism professor.  He said his son was traveling to Cuba and that she should go too.  She didn’t know what made him tell her she should be going to Cuba.  His son never went.  Valerie did.  In 1998, Valerie traveled to Cuba to study Afro-Cuban culture.  In Santiago de Cuba, Chango the Yoruba Orisha, who opened the way for her when she only 9 years old became flesh and bone. 

Philippe Matthews author of SHOCK Meta physics writes: “We know that we must reclaim our original memory and become avid students, investigators, scientists, and researchers of our own history and not rely solely on society, educational systems and other races to teach us about our heritage and our contribution to all humanity.” 

I often asked myself: “what happens when we remember our past or envision (pretend) ourselves in the future? Are we time traveling?                                                     

Stay tuned for Act II of Out of Darkness: European Colonization by Ơ

AfroLatinaLivinMypassion

Mom, Dad...Are You Willing to Learn?

In the last two months, I have slowly released my angst about "Am I doing enough?"...I went from thinking I had to do curriculum for a certain amount of hours every day to allowing our natural thirst for discovery to guide our learning.  Yes, "our" learning.  I did not just rescue my daughter from the School to Prison Pipeline.  When I pulled Nani out of that hostile territory (school), I was saving myself, as well.  And, this is what most parents struggle with - understanding we too, must detach ourselves from "schooling" and be willing to learn.

How can you pull someone from a burning house if you refuse to leave the same house, yourself?

So many of us begin our journey with a terrible amount of fear, worry, anxiety and even, guilt.  We fear we won't competently teach our children.  Our irrational fear ignores the reason why we rescued our child in the first place; the current educational system of rogue memorization and standardized curriculum in the western world is failing.  We worry our children won't be properly socialized.  We have anxiety about how much learning our children are accomplishing so we set unrealistic or overwhelming daily, weekly and annual goals.  When we fall short of those goals, we punish ourselves or our children with guilt, anger and self-proclaimed failure.  Often times, at the Mulberry co-op my daughter and I recently became a part of parents (moms mostly) share our daily tears and triumphs which lead to in-depth discussions on our different and common struggles.  Most times, I find the core problem is we {adults} are trying to force ourselves and our child(ren) to process information at a rate (speed) or in a method (presentation style) that simply just does-not-work because - we are trying to fit a mold not created for our individuality.  With this understanding, I am allowing room for learning to happen as organically as possible.

I am beginning to meditate on truly allowing learning to happen naturally for my daughter and, in order for this to happen I have to accept this gift myself.  Liberated learning can only happen in a "judgement-free" trusting environment.  We have to allow ourselves the liberty of not having the solution to a problem - right away and trust everything happens for a reason.  Nothing is random, or coincidental.  We learn from what we do not know just as much as from what we do know.  Not knowing, stimulates our imagination; stretches our mind. Thus, we grow in this curiosity of wanting to know.  Our creative genius is triggered when we do not have the answer; we discover our hidden talents.

What we do or say to our children, we do or say to ourselves and, vice-versa.  You may be thinking "I never actually tell my child S[H]e is a failure or they are not doing enough."  Have you ever been deep in thought only to discover your child staring at you who with a concerned look asks "mommy (daddy) what's wrong?"  Perhaps you were contemplating some bill or family issue, or pending task.  It is humbling how intuitive our children can be; they know when we are beating ourselves up and it beats them up too.

Some of us struggle with letters, their sounds and meaning while others struggle with numbers, their value and operation.  Whatever your struggle, start with what you are strong at and build from this point.  For many reasons, numbers and math have caused me to feel insecure, unintelligent even.  Of the many blessings which have come from "liberated learning", one perfectly illustrates my point about allowing ourselves the liberty of not having the solution to a problem right away and welcoming this as an opportunity for growth.  

 Pride or, our ego is a massive barrier to learning and growth.  In other words, those of us who were told we just weren't good at math or any other subject (at a young age) feel insecure about appearing unintelligent or incompetent.  As a result, we might avoid situations, jobs, relationships, opportunities and even blessings simply because we did not want to be exposed.  For instance, we don't apply to a job because it requires a math test.  Perhaps we don't pay attention to our finances, implement household budgets, save, monitor our spending or even pass on dating someone because of their math acumen.  Eventually anything we are running from will determine how or if we relate to others - in our job, life's work, family and friends.

So what is that blessing I mentioned earlier?  I am now more conscious of when I am functioning out of pride or confidence.

Pride tells you to reject anything (anyone) that will expose your insecurity - including yourself...
Confidence takes you by the hand, walks you right up to your fear and says "introduce yourself." 

Nani's lesson review on Angles.

Fourth grade math is where you learn how to divide and multiply numbers.  Many of us were told to memorize a times table then taught long division and perhaps, fraction operations.  But, if you learn how numbers are a part of each other - the basic function of relationships then you learn how to do mental math.  Liberated learning has given me the confidence to accept I am free to (re)learn how basic numbers relate.  Last Monday, my 11 year old and I sat for four hours going over mental math strategies.  We laughed at ourselves, celebrated ourselves and, I finally felt competent doing mental math.

Nani does not struggle with numbers, nor with reading; she is an avid reader.  Her struggle is with critical analysis of literature.  Like any kid she just wants to read for fun. The way reading, writing and grammar happens in schools however is very mechanical and focused on rubrics and metrics completely detached from any real creativity or study of the literary art form.  In other words, our children are not provided the space, time or instruction to develop a love of culturally-based written works.  What our children are reading at school is void of (relevant) culture or their history.  If schools are (in fact) teaching our children to read for meaning but, our ancestral foods, music, traditions, dance, art and sciences are absent then, our children are now severed from "reality" or, the legitimate story.  Consequently, the subliminal lesson is: you are not meaningful.  At an early age, schools program our children to NOT see themselves as meaningful.

If the programming is successful (the child learns to identify meaning from a written work of which they are never a part) the child learns to become okay with being invisible in every part of their life.

My child told me "mommy, we don't read books; we read booklets."  I was horrified.  My child wasn't being exposed to a canon of authors, to whole works but, to propaganda texts about The Patriot Act or isolated excerpts about individuals without past, present or future context.  It's sort of like giving a kid pizza without the cheese or sauce - a flavorless crust will never make a mouth water.  Similarly, reading short texts or excerpts about one particular person or occurrence within a culturally relevant context will never stimulate the requisite curiosity, imagination and creativity required to envision the plot, setting, characters and theme of a work of Literature.

Replacing the indoctrinating propaganda booklets with a well-rounded literary list of works became one of my top priorities.  While I am by no means a master...writing and reading (not) grammar happen to be my strengths; in fact, they saved my life.  I am ever grateful to my elders: The Nuyorican Poet and playwright Dale Olandersmith who stormed into my life and introduced me to Toni Morrison in 1993.  Entering the world of Morrison's literary work Beloved, could only be compared to taking the pin off a grenade; every page a bright, reverberating, jolt of sound, color, texture, flava' and the bitter-sweet aroma of trial and triumph.  Later, Maya Angelou, Octavia Butler, Jamaica Kincaid, Bell Hooks and Esmeralda Santiago's literary canon held up a mirror where I learned to develop meaning, in literature but also, in life.  So, of course, this is the heritage I pass on to my daughter, proudly.  And, here is our fruit...

I Love Freedom 
By Nani

I do Love
I Love the bees
I Love the birds
Yes, I do Love these
I Love the sound of my mother's powerful voice
I Love the strong wind
the crushing waves of people
Yes I Love these
I Love the sound of exhilaration while I scream
FREEDOM
I Love the marching feet of tens of thousands of people screaming FREEDOM!
Yes, I do Love these
I hate the fact people are evil enough to kill A BOY
But, I Love they don't know what they did only woke people up
That they only made us stronger
So yes, I do Love these and every one of these
Because I Love FREEDOM and I know that SHE Loves me.

This is my libation to my literary elders, rest in power.

#AfroLatinaLivinMyPassion

Dinner Under the Moon & Stars at the Springfield Science Museum: Building Our Learning Groove & Community.

What is pedagogy? 

Many discussions of pedagogy make the mistake of seeing it as primarily being about teaching...Pedagogy needs to be explored through the thinking and practice of those educators who look to accompany learners; care for and about them; and bring learning into life. 

"Often teachers fall, or are pushed, into ‘schooling’ – trying to drill learning into people according to some plan often drawn up by others. Paulo Freire (1972) famously called this ‘banking’ – making deposits of knowledge. It can quickly descend into treating learners like objects, things to be acted upon rather than people to be related to. In contrast, to call ourselves ‘educators’ we need to look to acting with people rather on them.

Education is a deliberate process of drawing out learning (educere), of encouraging and giving time to discovery. It is an intentional act. At the same time it is, as John Dewey (1963) put it, a social process – ‘a process of living and not a preparation for future living’. As well being concerned with learning that we set out to encourage – a process of inviting truth and possibility – it is also based in certain values and commitments such as a respect for others and for truth. Education is born, it could be argued, of the hope and desire that all may share in life and ‘be more’.  Smith, M. K. (2012). ‘What is pedagogy?’, the encyclopedia of informal education. [http://infed.org/mobi/what-is-pedagogy/. Retrieved: September 30, 2015].

On August 31st. I purchased what I knew would be a basic 6th grade curriculum bundle package covering English Language Arts, Math, Science and Social Studies.  Just when I thought my journey had gotten a little bit smoother, I found errors in the curriculum.  Everywhere I've looked IE: Teachers Pay Teachers, Educents, etc. the curricula promoted is "standards-based" which I found to be incredibly frustrating since that is the very reason I took my daughter out of public school.  We want to learn; not memorize standards or rubrics to "pass" assessments.

After two weeks, I contacted the Educents folks who sell (not create) the curricula sources and they were very good about refunding my money and due to all the errors I'd found; they let me keep the PDF.  I am still using it as a compass (if you will) or outline of subject areas.  Some of the content I simply just ignore because the text is "disjointed" information geared towards test-prep or, I draw personal connections to the topic and together Nani and I give form to the topic.  I have to layer and augment with real-life experiential content.   The interesting thing is, I am developing a keener ability to identify when we are learning and when we are just memorizing facts.  

I want to first of all thank Kristina Brooke of "For The Love of Education" a secular homeschooling mom for extending her hand when I needed some guidance and enriching our lives with hers.  Kristina shared a wonderful reading list for our Literature, Writing and Reading studies which I will share more about later.

Many thanks to Stephanie Parrish, an awesome Science teacher out of VA who has taken her pedagogy online via Youtube.  Nani and I love her Metric System Conversions method; look her up if you're interested.

Unraveling Claire of the Sea Light's Plot

Understanding Main Characters

So far, Nani and I have gotten our groove for Literature.  Among the seven books Nani has read in the past two months I chose Edwidge Dandicat's latest work: Claire of the Sea Light to begin our study of the four elements of fiction.  This week we dissected the four characteristics of the plot: exposition, complication, climax, resolution.  I have to say studying Literature together with my child is like having cake (without the calories & guilt) - it is one of the coolest, most invigorating, youthful things I have ever done.  I love the art of storytelling.  Claire of the Sea Light was not on the actual book list; I actually chose it by mistake.  I was suppose to chose Eight Days: A Story of Haiti  by Dandicat but, when we were looking up her bio, her latest work (Sea Light) came up and the librarian said "Oh, we have that one...would you like it?" I got caught up and said "yes."  

The takeaway here: just because an author writes one book suitable for a sixth grader doesn't mean all her works are, so make sure before hand, by either reading the book itself or a review of the work.  Claire of the Sea Light is an amazing work however it was too "mature" in some of the topics covered.  For instance, one of the characters is raped; it just wasn't something I wanted my 11 year old to read (this year).   Not withstanding Nani did read the book and dissecting it together resulted in a sharpening of her comprehension skills. 

My elementary, middle and high school experience with math was horrific. I was told "you're not good at math; you are a good reader".  Math is not one dimensional; it is a left-side and right-side function.  For instance, when braiding, jumping rope, singing, playing music or sewing, the left and right side of your brain works together performing in exactly the same way it does when you are doing math therefore you are inherently good at math if you can do any of these.  That said, I have always been very insecure around numbers.  Taking on homeschooling I knew I would have to confront this fear of - "not being good at math."  I figured I should be okay in facilitating 6th grade curriculum to my 11 year old then, I found errors.  Needless to say, I panicked for a second.  But, I did not allow myself to be defeated by what I knew to be irrational fear.  I simply decided to seek assistance and make our math learning real-life experiential.  

So for example, when we did our lesson on Estimating Whole Numbers I used our grocery store receipts to bring our personal connection and reality to the math.  This was so much fun with the Metric System because we love to bake and Nani loves to sew.  As you can see in the picture below we used a Cupcake recipe to practice our metric conversions.  So, our learning does not stop when the lesson is completed but, we implement it in our everyday life.  

Nani's Vanilla Cupcake Recipe Conversions

Our science learning is happening in so many cool ways! Actually, the picture above is of our Science Metric Conversions lesson and it doubled as Math.  I want to thank the Whole Life Learners Homeschooling Group based out of the Pioneer Valley for their awesome lead on the Springfield Science Museum's events and clubs.  As a result of joining the WLLHG, I learned about the September 27th  Lunar Eclipse.  I followed my gut and took Nani to the event.  When you ask the Universe, it will always respond (so be careful what you ask for...lol) At the event, Nani and I 'bumped into' a community member who we do yoga with on Tue & Fri mornings in Springfield.  Our yoga buddy (we learned that night) is also a Science Astronomy buff and longtime member of the Stars Club which sponsored the Lunar Eclipse event.  To top our night off we met other homeschooling families and not coincidentally these are the girls Nani connected and played with all night.  We are now new members of the Mulberry Homeschooling Group, out of Springfield, MA and of the Stars Club.  Our Science curriculum grew exponentially in one fell-swoop.  Check out these cool pics..

Lunar & Solar Eclipses Presentation by Springfield Stars Club

Using my phone to photograph our 1st Lunar Eclipse through Telescope

Springfield Science Museum Slide Show

Libby, Nani & Delia

#AfroLatinaLivinMyPassion

Mulberry Jr. Art Class & Inst. Kristie

Breakin' the Afro-Latino Yoke in Western MA: Good bye In-House Suspensions...Hello Liberated Ho...

Breakin' the Afro-Latino Yoke in Western MA: Good bye In-House Suspensions...Hello Liberated Ho...: June 2015 USSF - Philly BLM March Nani in the Middle Nani's 2015 Gardening The Community Summer Job Experience Nani Building ...

Good bye In-House Suspensions...Hello Liberated Homeschooler...

June 2015 USSF - Philly BLM March
Nani in the Middle

Nani's 2015 Gardening The Community Summer Job Experience
Nani Building Our Village One Brick-at-a-time...

After four years of being known as a "well-behaved" star student at Sullivan elementary school, my 10 year suddenly became a victim of systemic marginalization and policing.  Nani had never been disrespectful to teachers or students, even.  Nani, was beloved by all her teachers save Patricia Moriarty, her 5th grade homeroom teacher.  Moriarty blatantly targeted students of color and systemically removed them from her classroom, everyday.  

Nani said "Mommy, it's like watching my friends get shot everyday and not being able to do anything about it."     

So, my daughter began documenting the stifling stillness students of color are subjected to: they could not laugh, talk, whisper, giggle, socialize much less move around without being ejected from class.  Contrastingly, White students in Moriarty's class were given fair and even stern warnings that she would call their parents but, she never ejected them from class.   The disregard and intolerance Moriarty has for the Latino students in her class was blatantly obvious to my then, 10 year old. And Nani began speaking up about it, in class.  

Nani was in her third year of complaining about major deficiencies in music, art, gym and recess.  The physical, social and creative prohibitions coupled with incessant test-prep drill and watching her Latino friends be removed from class everyday simply for talking arrested any remaining dignity my daughter struggled to hold.   

I addressed all of my daughter's legitimate complaints through the proper channels, over a two year period.  None of our legitimate concerns were redressed.  When I decided to start blogging, I was ignored by the administration.  I became heavily involved with the Teacher's Union Reclaiming Our Schools effort which required I be quiet about racist teachers in the district something I was not prepared to do.  Only after informing local media outlets, did Holyoke Public School administrators and staff patronize me with red tape procedural emails and suggestions to meet with key committee heads which, never manifested.   

When I informed John Breish Nani would not be taking the MCAS he literally targeted her by creating an "MCAS dance" for the fifth graders.  One afternoon Breish pulled every fifth grader out of music and herded them to the cafeteria.  Breish proceeded to inform students

"Everyone who uses their strategies on the MCAS, will go to the MCAS dance," Breish announced.   

Distraught, Nani approached Breish after his pep talk. 

"Does that mean, I can't go to the MCAS dance?" Nani asked.  

"You can go but, I think it would be fair that you should do an essay about why you don't want to take the MCAS.  Don't you think it's only fair to the other students who are working hard?" Breish asked trying to shame or guilt my daughter.

A few days later my daughter called from school almost in tears.  Some of her classmates chastised her on the playground; they didn't think it was fair she wasn't taking the MCAS.  Breish essentially created a hostile learning environment and cultivated a culture of bullying among previously friendly peers.  

The final straw was drawn when Breish tried to have police officers escort me out of a public parent meeting held at Sullivan's cafeteria.  I was on crutches; fresh out of surgery.  My infraction? I was asking real questions and raising legitimate concerns about Holyoke Public Schools lack of transparency about the impending receivership.  That was our last chapter with the Holyoke Public School to Prison Pipeline.  

Nani and I have joined a national network of Liberated Learners, we are homeschooling.  We are happy and Life Is Our Classroom.

Check out these awesome pics from our summer of learning and our first weeks of homeschooling curriculum.

#AfroLatinaLivinMyPassion

1st ELA Lesson on Edwidge Dandicat: Interactive Journal
Reading to Develop Meaning

Harlem Yarn Bombin'

Nani's Chess Community at the Recovery Learning Center, Springfield MA

E.Harlem Urban Cmmty Garden

Nani's Summer Job Fundraiser- GTC Hadley, MA

1st Science Lesson- Hangman Science?

The 3 Branches of Science

11

Sis. Chiquita McCullough Veteran NYC Homeschooler & Hampshire College Student Amara

Intro To Interactive ELA Journaling

Part II of John Breish Lt. P. Clayre Sullivan School Principal Targets & Criminalizes Children and Parents of Color

I pulled up to Lt. P. Clayre Sullivan Elementary School and immediately notice the (out of place) police cruiser.

I slowly exit my drivers side and place my crutch for support. I was livid. Not just because my daughter's first amendment rights were being stifled.  Not just because my 10 year old little girl is being stigmatized as "disruptive" for speaking truth to power. Not just because my 10 year old little girl is being conditioned for the industrial prison complex or low-wage labor without rights.  My daughter is exposing the root cause of her peers mistreatment.  She has named it - racism.  She knows racism is stifling her.  She knows racism is conditioning her to accept prison-like environments.  And, now she would know what it means to be "imprisoned," criminalized.  

It was the 360th degree of poverty.  Mental poverty.  Economic poverty. Cultural poverty. Social poverty.  Political poverty.

Placing my daughter in a 'holding cell' in her "school" is not about correcting or restoring her behavior; its about silencing her voice - impoverishing her power.  In forcing me to leave work; Breish placed me at risk for losing my job.  Holyoke Public School officials are now playing a central role in perpetuating the cycle of poverty.

I rang the intercom and was buzzed in.

"Hello, Viviana," smiling broadly but, not looking me in the eyes Breish looked very relaxed.  He leaned back into the secretary's desk chair, folded hands cradling the back of his head.

My earlier protests over the phone to "Let my daughter out of that cage!" and, my insistence he

"Let me speak to my daughter!" were dismissed.

Breish smugly defied me.

"I am sorry Viviana, Nani will have to spend the rest of the day in the "student support room".  And, we are happy to provide a room if you would like to speak with Nani; she is in no imminent danger.  He taunted me.  In other words, if you want to even speak to your child, you need to drop everything, risk getting fired and leave your place of work.

The blatant defiant disrespect would send any parent into a frenzied, mentally distressing state.

"You are a racist pig and a coward; she's a good kid and doesn't deserve to be treated like a criminal." I told him to his face, returning the calm demeanor.

Breish was not moved.  "Viviana, I don't want to get into this with you, right now." he dismissed.

My daughter walked in.  Nani seemed nervous; her belongings disheveled.

"They gave me a pile of work to do, mommy," handing me a stack of ELA worksheets.  I took them and walked over to Breish.

Looking my daughter in the eyes I reassured her.

"You haven't done anything wrong, baby.  You told the truth about what you see happening in your classroom - you did the right thing.  Moriarty (my daughter's homeroom teacher) is a racist and so is he," pointing to Breish.

"My daughter doesn't need this," slinging the ELA sheets on the desk in front of him.

I turned my back and heard him say "Nani, here is your phone," standing up to hand my daughter the cell phone he confiscated.   Later, my daughter informed me Breish asked my daughter if she had her cell phone and if she had texted me.

"You know you are not suppose to have your cell phone and, I don't want you texting your mom!"  Breish bullied.

Principal John Breish and others like him want to target our children, criminalize them and take away their ability to report it to their parents.  Much in the same way defenseless working class and poor Black and Brown tax payers are victimized by judges and prosecutors who play the 'cop a plea' game.  Women and men of color are sighted, arrested and jailed (for lack of bail funds or proper legal representation) defenselessly unable to communicate with loved ones.   They sit in jail only because they won't cop a plea and want a fair trial.

My daughter and I walked out of Breish's office with our heads held high.  With my supervisor/comrade's permission, I brought her to work with me.  And although Nani had a fun day of hands-on learning; Breish had effectively removed my daughter from her classroom, her school and ultimately her learning community.

Three days later, on April 13, 2015 I responded to a notice to attend an open-door, parent meeting at the Sullivan School cafeteria.  The flyer which came home only two days before the meeting read: "Got Questions? Come get the 411 from Principal Breish."   The purpose of the meeting was to answer parent's questions regarding the state's hostile takeover of our entire school district.

Only under four weeks post-surgery on my right ACL and Miniscus and a full day of work I came home, exhausted.  We had dinner.  Still in a full leg immobilizer and crutches I made my way over to Sullivan's parent information meeting.  Before an audience of eight to 10 White working class mothers and three or four Latino parents Breish and Paez used slides with non-factual "data" to illustrate the importance of the MCAS scores, statistics on the underachievement of Latino students in the areas of ELA and Math and how this was affecting the overall performance of 'the district'.

In a paternalistic drawl Breish explained "Sadly, Latino students are failing...."  I could see and feel Latino mothers stiffen up in their healthcare uniforms.  It was shaming.  It sickened me.  I broke the inertia from the parent's side of the room.

"Will there be an actual Q & A period or, can we ask questions intermittently?"

"No, you can may ask a question now," Breish replied.

"School administrators have known about the threat of receivership since Jan. of this year.  Why are we just being allowed to have audience with school administrators and Superintendent Paez?" I asked.

"That's a great question.  I don't have a concrete answer.  It takes a lot time to put this information together?" Breish replied making direct eye contact with Superintendent Paez as he threw a bone at my question.

Pathetic. I knew that was a bold face lie.  Both Breish and Paez knew of the impending hostile takeover and did NOTHING to inform parents, students, administrative staff or, teachers.  Matter of fact, they did everything to keep parents, teachers, (who don't actively participate in the their union) supportive and administrative staff and of course students - completely in the dark about what could be done to protect our democratic rights to maintain local control of our publicly funded education.

As an engaged parent, when the announcement was first made in January, I moved to oppose the receivership collaboratively with other HPS parents, residents and concerned residents of the Pioneer Valley.  On January 10th 2015, my 10 year old daughter and I both testified before the Foundation Budget Review Commission before Congress women Sonia Chang-Diaz and others to oppose the systemic targeting of urban, inner-city districts with predominantly low-income families of color via financial divestment.

Superintendent Paez and principal John Breish were not present.  Alex Morse the Mayor of Holyoke was also NOT present.  I conceived The Rise of Holyoke Schools, a grass-roots parent-of-color-led group to oppose the removal of local control of our schools. I created a facebook page, spoke with various school staff and, teachers who responded with were all afraid to get involved for fear of losing their jobs.  Breish and Paez never supported my efforts to distribute flyers to invite parents to the first of a series of Parent Information Session RHS would be facilitating.

Left to right: Adam Grabowski Sullivan School Parent, Leida Andino Holyoke resident, Sherri Jourdain & Jacky Jourdain, Sullivan School parent and student having lunch at Rise of Holyoke Schools 1st Parent Info Session.

Marly Torres, Sullivan School Parent Testifies at Rise of Holyoke School's 1st Parent Info Session her son Victor is Targeted with in-house suspensions. 

Knowing all of this, I pressed further.  "Why hasn't Paez every returned any of my emails or calls or granted any of my requests to meet in person?"

The cafeteria was still; you cold hear a pin drop.

"Viviana, we have to let other parents ask questions, as well." averting my question.  No parents had their hands raised - he just wanted to shut me down.

"You are a liar! Paez is also a liar!" I asserted.

"They think we are stupid," stated a Latina mother who sat across from me.  We weren't invited to be heard, much less informed.  We were invited to be brainwashed about how OUR kids are failures and receivership wouldn't be "so bad."  Another Latina parent and her now adult daughter who attended Sullivan school as a child confirmed they too felt completely abused and neglected by the Holyoke Public School system.  

"I felt the same way your daughter feels when I was a student at Sullivan. That was many hears ago," confirmed Cristal, now a parent, herself.  

"We need to protest," Cristal's mother grumbled.  

It was clear to me many parents, students and former students now parents in the system were feeling lied to, betrayed and circumvented by HPS previous and current administration.  As we chatted quietly, Breish and Paez became visibly upset.  I noticed Breish come over to our table.  

"Viviana, if you keep this up, I'm gonna have to call the police and have you escorted out," whispering his threat.  

"Do what you have to do." unmoved by his cowardly intimidation tactics.  

Moments later, four police cruisers arrived to the front of the school lights flashing through the front of the cafeteria.  The cafeteria exploded in a wave of murmuring.  Breish walked out of the cafeteria and began speaking to the officers.  

A few of us Latino mothers sat in awe of the blatant ridiculousness of Breish's actions.  Four police cruisers rushed to an elementary school parent meeting where NOTHING illegal, criminal, or even dangerous was happening.  What a waste of our tax dollars. What a blatant show of White Supremacy, Racism and how the Holyoke Public School district criminalizes students of color and their parents. But it wasn't going down like that; not this time.

"Maam, can we speak to you outside." the officer asserted.  It wasn't a question.  

"No." I replied.  

"We just want to speak with you outside so we don't disrupt the meeting." he offered.  

"No," I repeated.  "This is my daughter's school.  This is a open parent meeting and I am a parent here.  I am not getting up." I closed.  

"Just two minutes," the officer insisted as the another white female officer approached.

"This is disrupting the meeting," the White female officer stated in an irritated tone.  

"No, you are disrupting the meeting." I said.  

"Am I being detained? Otherwise you are harassing me and I will call the media."  I clarified. 

"Go ahead, call the media," the officer hissed as he walked away and out of the cafeteria.  

My daughter was playing in the playground when she  saw the cruiser lights in front of the cafeteria.  

"Mommy, you okay?" Nani asked looking very scared.  

"Yes, baby I'm okay," I assured her knowing everything about what has happened, is happening and will happen in this school district, is not okay.  


Two days later, Monday, April 15th 2015 I receive another text from my child: 

"Hey mom.   Guess what happened today?  I'm in 'inhouse'.  You know why because Shanis was talking this morning just like everyone else was. And, Ms. Moriarty yelled at Shanis and then I jumped in and said well she was doing the same thing as everyone else.  The next thing I knew Shanis called Ms. Moriarty a racist and me and her are in 'inhouse'.  Sooooo sick of this school crossing fingers that I won't be there for long.  Not doing the work. Don't leave your job!  If you don't want me to be here send another person ok?  Love you, bye."  

In a matter of five days my daughter had been displaced from her classroom and learning community twice for nothing other than speaking truth to power, defending her freedom of expression and calling out her teacher's racist practices.  

This time when I arrived at Sullivan School pick up area (in front of the cafeteria) Jim Desautels one of the assistant principals at Sullivan stood chatting with a police officer who sat in his cruiser. Breish stood on the sidewalk in front of the cafeteria waiting to deliver my daughter as if to say "we don't even want you coming into the school." 

Make no mistake, Holyoke Public School Officials will continue to criminalize children and parents of color until WE decide to UNITE and FIGHT BACK.  

How long will WE allow them to treat us like this?  I don't know about you but, I'm done.

This year, I opted my child out of the MCAS; she will NEVER again be a piggy bank for greedy, racist, wealthy capitalists.  

IF you want to learn more about how to fight back and protect your child's right to an equal, holistic, safe and nurturing education respond to this post.  

If we don't have each other's back; they will continue picking us off - one by one.

If you would like to obtain the formal Opt Out Parental Form please click this link: The Rise of Holyoke Schools  you can find the forms in the thread of posts just search MCAS Opt Out Forms.  

Also, feel free to share your own account of the criminalization of you or, your child by HPS.