Social Class Response

It makes perfect sense that amongst these different schools, kids come from a certain economical background in which they grow up in relation to their surroundings and parents. The teachers treat these kids with as much mental and physical independence that they believe they can successfully handle in relation to the world they live in outside the school. If students are encouraged to express creativity and free-thought, this would most likely mimic the abilities of people within their social class who use these abilities to go after their dreams and have an enlightened attitude of the world. Whereas students who are taught rote memorization most likely come from a lower social class where the basis of supporting one’s self relies on a job and outlook on life where they are told how to do something and need to memorize and practice until they can repeatedly do it very well. There is no idea of breaking down the barriers to strive for something beyond.

At the conclusion of Anyon’s writing, she states how the differences in schooling help to reproduce the certain systems of relations in society. I had been thinking that that was the purpose of the passage the whole time I was reading it. If a student in the working-class school is growing up in near poverty with parents working full-time minimum wage jobs, possibly without the consistent attention and care of their parents, the teacher caters to that lifestyle by restricting the student to what she thinks is attainable and realistic regarding his upbringing. Thus, he would probably grow up having only the capacities to achieve the same or little more than what his parents were able to. On the other hand, in the executive elite schools, the children are taught with extremely profound thought and awareness from obviously an early age, not just learning but analyzing and applying their knowledge, initiating a path for them to be able to have a superior edge in the working world, just like their parents who expect them to achieve as they have themselves. I think that this is a generally accurate approximation of education’s influence on society, which is why it is so poor in the country right now. There needs to be more balance, with equal opportunity presented to all students regardless of their current economic background. 

Memoir Reflection

Writing the memoir was not an easy thing to do. It was a challenge to try and go back in time, trying to identify the significance in past events and determine how they have influenced me. I think that I tend to brush off certain events and think that they are no big deal when they really do affect me deep down. It takes some effort to come to terms with these feelings and then write them out. In the end though, this process has made it very rewarding. I can see myself in a bit of new light by dissecting all of it in a memoir. When memories are written out in front of you, they suddenly become existent again. When it is just in your head, it’s almost like you can just pretend it didn’t happen, but in words it is concrete and present. Writing the memoir has helped me be more direct in opening my mind and thoughts. I’m not as nervous, yet more curious in connecting my memories to my current personality.

"I Just Wanna Be Average" Response

I have definitely come across teachers like those that Rose discusses in “I Just Wanna Be Average”. The teachers that have little interest in making education meaningful, and instead make it continuously dull. My high school history teacher, Mr. Banwart is a good example. None of us had the mental stamina to pay attention as he’d turn off the lights everyday and turn on the meaningless daily flow of usually sixty powerpoint slides that he admitted he stole from some other teacher on the internet. He was sort of a funny guy but was extremely conceited. He found enjoyment in listening to our ideas of activities to do in class and then shooting them down with a demeaning smile. Since he couldn’t understand that we were so bored and didn’t have the mental stamina to pay attention to his lectures, we’d get poor grades and skim by anyway we could. It was sad that we were craving enthusiasm that he wouldn't give, leaving us to believe that we just weren’t disciplined enough to follow our “grade-level curriculum”. We easily could of learned all he taught but his mindset wasn’t on what’s most effective, but what takes the least amount of effort for him. If he wasn’t going to try, why should we? Teachers don’t always care about how they teach or who they’re teaching to, even though it’s their job.

Students like Ken Harvey cope with the pressures of high school by ignoring them like they don’t care and it’s not important. Because they have never been able to make that connection with what they’re learning they are left in the dust, year after year. After so many failed attempts at learning, they feel like the don’t belong or don’t have a reason to be there and stop caring. They begin to just plan out getting a mediocre job and living an average lifestyle. They become so content with that and teachers misjudge all of it as laziness or carelessness. There is always reasoning behind everything people think about themselves and teachers like Mr. Banwart, that you encounter since first grade, don’t realize that they are the ones to blame!

"Becoming Members of Society" Response

Devor discusses how the “generalized other” influences our development of a gender identity. The term means that we judge our own actions against those of generalized conceptions of how members of society are expected to act. With this in place, we monitor and censor our actions so that we earn social approval. I thought it was interesting how he writes the “self” is composed by the more internal and private “I” and the more public and judged “me” I agree with this idea because the characteristics of “I” are what truly make a person who they are, but we morph ourselves to create a certain “me” to portray to others because we feel that our “I” may not be good enough or perceived well by others.

The “patriarchal schema” that Devor explains is widely in use in North American society. It shows how males are highly attributed and are the dominant person in a family and in the world. They display features of innate maleness through aggression, body presence, and speech. On the other hand, women are known to be dependent on males because they are ones who have a warm and soft personality, gentleness, and motivation to care for children and work in female roles only. Furthermore, the way both genders dress is a huge characteristic that separates the male type from the female type. The schema reinforces and perpetuates the idea that when it comes to gender roles, males are superior to females.

Memoir Blog Post

The hot Florida sun was setting as my brother Mikey and I, in our swimsuits, climbed up the steps into the line for the orange, corkscrew waterslide. I was thirteen years old, which would have made him about eleven. Another family vacation, this time to Orlando for Universal Studios. We stayed at the Nickelodeon hotel which was a colorful and cheery place, surrounded by Spongebob and every other cartoon character you could think of. Mikey loved it. He’d go off walking around the whole place, laughing as he gazed up at the life-size pictures of every funny character he saw on TV.  My dad would follow behind him twenty steps back, keeping a distant eye on him since every time he’d try to catch up with him, Mikey would shake his head and shoo him away. Then keep walking as he wanted his independence as he explored the place. 

My parents do a great job of handling Mikey and not putting any stress on my sister and I. Often, that’s how it went. When Mikey wanted to go somewhere else or got upset, either mom or dad would go with him and the other would stay with us while we did whatever activity we had planned. I didn't have to worry about being stuck in a predicament with Mikey where I wouldn't know what to do. Mom and dad knew what to do, not me. In public, I admit I have anxiety when it comes to the unexpectedness that goes along with a brother like Mikey. What if he started screaming in the middle of a crowd? I’d know I’d walk away and let my parents figure it out. They tell me that’s what I should do. I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with that, I don’t what to do so why should I hover around the situation. Yet as I walk away, I wipe any feeling I have off my face as if I am not associated with the scene I am escaping from. 

As Mikey and I come to the front of the line, the lifeguard tells us it is our turn. We climb up the net crawl going upwards to the top of this monstrous playground, continuously being soaked by tipping water buckets. I laughed as I appreciated that Mikey and I were having fun together doing something exciting in a new and unfamiliar place. It doesn’t happen too often. I didn’t think he would be up for a big waterslide like this, instead maybe just floating around in the pool with my dad like usual. 

We lifted our feet from the scratchy rope climb and stepped onto the platform. We walked to the slide, gazing out to the huge pool that sat below where my mom waited at the bottom of the slide. We were on top of the world, I was proud Mikey wanted to do this. He stood at the opening of the slide, smiling and giggling, looking all around. “Go Mikey! I’ll be right behind you.” I said. He didn’t move. I kept encouraging him to go, but he stood still. He wasn’t scared, just taking his time. My heart started to race. I didn’t expect this. I looked down as the lifeguard was saying something and motioning his hand forward. The line of kids behind him just stared up at me. They were all waiting on us, what do I do? I kept telling Mikey to go, each time getting less friendly. He kept looking around and up at the sky, smiling. I nodded my head to the lifeguard, and looked away like I had it under control. The clock in my head kept ticking, and it felt like hours standing up there. The number of people in the pool watching us seemed to suddenly grow, although it was probably just in my head. Were we going to have to climb back down, come on already Mikey! I was angry at my parents that this was happening. I was embarrassed. I guess I just have no hope in any other people that they could possibly have the ounce of humility to understand anything. Finally, he slid down joyously in a split second. I breathed in deep. I didn’t wait to watch him splash into the water before I slid down behind him. I couldn't stand up there any longer. 

When I hit the water, I swam to my mom and her face was glowing as Mikey twirled around in the water next to her, probably ecstatic after what he had just accomplished. I was still calming down from what was probably in reality merely 90 seconds of what felt like torture. I looked around and business was as usual, no one looked appalled or whispered about the hold-up that we just put all those kids through. Not until now, am I able to look back and realize how much of that moment was blown up in my head. Why was I so embarrassed? Not because of him, but because of the inconvenience I thought we were causing. Because of what I thought people were thinking on the inside. Because of what I thought people would view us as: different.