A Time for Celebration

On Monday my brother will graduate from Oakland University. While I can’t physical be there…I am definitely there in spirit, proud that he’s graduating after having such a profound and significant college experience…full of college classes, microwavable popcorn, packaged oreos, lawsuits and victories, tons of smiles, exams and presentations, and whole lot of community building and community re-imagining.

As I travel and learn about education in another country, I carry Micah’s story with me because I know that inclusion is not just a “U.S.” thing or something that only “certain kids with certain issues” should be exposed to…inclusion is about rethinking success, rethinking testing, rethinking what schooling is all about…and this is something that should be (and in some place is) happening all around the world.

(Below is a blog I wrote for an organization, Special Quest, that advocates for inclusive practices in early-childhood settings. They are doing a series on Micah’s journey and the people who were impacted by this…check it out at: http://specialquest.org/inclusion/category/micahs-story/)

Growing up with my older brother, Micah, was not always easy—I mean how many siblings actually get along with their brother or sister all the time! We sure didn’t. Sometimes I wished he wasn’t my brother. And other times, we had a blast together—playing basketball, debating politics, watching funny movies. Having a brother with the label—intellectual disability—meant that our relationship was also different. At times I was embarrassed that my brother didn’t seem like my other friends’ siblings. Other times, I was worried about what his future would look like and I felt that other siblings didn’t have to worry about these types of issues.

However, Micah’s drive for an inclusive education meant that I grew to love and value Micah for Micah, for who he is. Inclusion became fundamentally important for the me as well as Micah. Inclusion meant that a community was being created around Micah. When I was in first grade, I saw Micah at recess with his peers—laughing and playing. Throughout my middle school experience, I saw Micah involved in peer groups. That meant that on some weekends, he’d leave home for overnight excursions with his friends. In high school, my older brother encouraged me to go to school dances and ultimately, the prom. He knew how important prom was for his high school experience and he wanted me to have that same “good time”. When I went off to college, I told my new college peers that my brother went to college too. I didn’t always have to explain the advocacy side of him; he could also just be my older brother who was studying at the university. Inclusion normalized his disability. The tangible results of inclusion meant that I could see others value Micah, I could see Micah participating in everyday activities, and in turn I could value Micah.

Now a junior at Mount Holyoke College, I am studying the intersection of disability and education issues. When I graduate I will have my teaching certificate in Early-Childhood Education. It is important that I teach in an inclusive classroom—so that the siblings in my classroom will see other individuals with disabilities participating, engaging with their peers, and ultimately being respected. My hope is that, they too, will be able to learn to appreciate their brother or sister with disabilities.

Most recently I helped Micah move into his dorm room. This was a powerful moment for me.

May all siblings of a brother or sister with a disability be able to help their sibling move out of their home into a home that they choose. May they be able to feel mixed emotions of over-protectiveness and excitement. May they be able to talk to each other in a new way because now they both live away from home. May the sibling (without disabilities) who has felt embarrassed, pushed to the side, heard too many phone calls about a meeting for their sibling, ever felt alone, ever felt uncertain about the role they may play in their brother or sister’s future, ever felt frustrated at the way the rest of the world looks at their brother or sister—may they too experience something so great as I did when I helped my so-called “atypical” “retarded” “can’t do anything” “will never speak” “just put him in an institution” … yes, my creative, courageous, witty, powerful, brilliant, intelligent, loving, conscientious, funny, older brother move into a dorm, so he, too, can be once again be just my brother.

Emma Sang in Public

(Okay…so really I sang with a group…but I knew that title would get your attention)

What song would you sing if you were in a different country and this host country asked you to do a “performance?”

The Star Spangled Banner…

….Pledge of Allegiance….any song from a Disney movie….

We were sitting in a bus arguing over which song to sing for our “performance” that would follow a performance that the students were going to put on for us. The students, many of whom we were living with for a week, and whose families are Mapuche (an indigenous group mostly found on the southern side of the South America--some people call this place Chile) go to the Escuela Municipal de Chapod--the local school for the community—Chapod (It’s about 9 hours by bus south of Santiago).

Since the Spanish arrived to Chile the 1500s…the Mapuche have been fighting to keep their land, their way of life, and their culture. For the past week we had the opportunity to live with a Mapuche family, learn their language, Mapudungun, and eat the incredible food that comes from their (very large) backyard.

So as the group sat on the bus…I couldn’t help but think that the song we choose is very symbolic. What would it look like if us…these US students…sang the US national anthem…the song the US coined as “official” after the US had murdered, moved and manipulated the indigenous people who were living in North America before the US arrived?

What would it look like if we choose a Disney song or the infamous Hannah Montana song, Party in the USA (I think…), (the character almost every child in Chile knows of)? What would it look like to choose a song that represents the neo-liberalism and globalization that is destroying the Mapuche culture (so that we watch TV with my host family here during dinner…and my host sister, knows of Hannah Montana and phrases in English, but barely knows the Mapuche language)?

So we all battle it out for a bit…and eventually choose this song: (this is from one of our many practice rounds on the bus)

This Land Is Your Land

….we even had a talk about the third verse that is often forgotten….and when we introduced the song to the school where we were “performing” we compared Woody Guthrie to Victor Jara. Talk about solidarity and bridge building.

It didn’t make the globalization go away. It didn’t make all the kids magically speak the language their grandparents speak fluently. It didn’t return them to the Rukas (the places the Mapuche used to use as homes). It didn’t bring the majority of the Mapuche back to the land (50% live in Chile’s major cities).

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But it did allow for an exchange of resistance. It allowed for both words—the Chapod world and the SIT/US word—to show that we’re working towards a different and a more just world…where we can sing songs and share parts of our cultures that make us proud to be human beings.

“They are out of control.”

It’s the phrase I hear often when we all gather to talk about our experiences at the schools. Right now we’re taking a course, Field Study Seminar, which among other things gives us the opportunity to “observe” one school over 6 different observation periods (all in the morning). We all observed different municipal (public) school in Santiago…some of us observed high school and others elementary schools (which includes k-8th grade).

I observed at an elementary school, mostly k-3rd grade classroom rooms (since that’s the age I’m hoping to work with). The school has a large population of students from Ecuador, Argentina, Peru. I’m frustrated with the monotony of the class. From first to third grade the students sit in rows, copy down the assignment on the board, complete the assignment, wait for everyone to finish it…and then repeat.

They have a break almost every hour and they literally run out of the classroom. Some stay in the hallways, others go to the courtyard. There are usually two adults in the center of the courtyard. Occasionally they blow their whistle and tell some kid to stop doing something, but mostly the kids are own their own. The teachers go to the staff room and drink tea and chat. It’s fascinating to watch what happens when “no one” is looking. They are constantly fighting…but I have yet to see someone get seriously hurt or cry. Both parties seem to smile as they bother the other person. I think this free time, really gives them the opportunity to release their energy from being cooped up in a classroom for the past hour. And since no one seems to “get in trouble” during this time…they do what they want to be doing---yelling, screaming, bothering their friend by poking him continuously---they’re being kids. I like watching that.  And I’m pretty sure that these kids aren’t “out of control.” I think they actually know exactly what they are doing…they are playing. Different from the U.S. where behavior is constantly being watched and “disciplined”…so as to make our “out of controlled” kids “controlled.”

I don’t think they release all of their energy during this break (but I’m not sure if a 10 year should be completely calm after 10 minutes of running around). So they enter back into their classrooms to return to their work.

They practice pseudo inclusion here. Students with all types of abilities (with many exceptions…I have yet to see students with intellectual disabilities…I’m not sure where they hide these kids in Chile) are put in the same classroom. They are all given the same assignment to do. The ones that finish it first…well, finish it first and wait. The ones that don’t finish it…well, don’t finish it. All of the kids often get out of their seats…talk to a friend…start poking their neighbor until their neighbor starts poking them…or organize their fellow peers backpacks (I like watching this kid the most)…eventually some part of the work/assignment is completed and the teacher calls for their attention. I have rarely heard a teacher yell here.

The classrooms here challenge me to think about what type of classroom I’d like to help create. We are taught that order, silence, discipline is good…and chaos, loud noises…movement is bad. What if it was the other way around? What if we expected classrooms to have lots of noise…what if it was okay to run in the hallways…what if it was okay to interrupt your teacher…what if the students, as a class, decided when they wanted recess or when they wanted to have math class outside…what if every time a kid poked another kid, the teacher didn’t yell at the poker…the teacher instead just watched them figure it out (and if it lead to more poking…that’d be okay too)…what if kids could walk around during class…

I don’t think these kids…the kids I’ve been observing are “out of control.” I think they are just challenging all of us to think of a new way to look at education.