Tag Archives: Lisa Delpit

Re-Envisioning the Dinner Table

I was between places for about two weeks. It was an experience I found both unsettling (where to put my dogs, my stuff, my BOOKS?!) and freeing (once the dogs were in their favorite kennel, that left me copious time to loiter in book stores, see neglected friends, attempt to dig myself out of the mishegas that had somehow become my life). It was also during this time that some great friends offered me a place to stay. One of them was a teacher and we’d spend moments here and there throughout those weeks chatting about teaching. She teaches in the city, in an under-resourced school, and she’s amazing because she just gets it done. She does not allow the fact that they are poor, or second-language learners, or have a disability prevent her from teaching them to be great.

I often reflect on moving to the suburbs and now back into the city, the differences between the two places. Finally, in one of our conversations about Lisa Delpit and cultural capital and all that stuff that’s difficult yet critical to discuss, we hit upon it: Kids who are privileged–in whatever ways they are privileged–have incredible opportunities to sit around a dinner table and soak in knowledge. So it might not matter that something is “missed” in school in favor of test prep or remediation. A parent or someone is going to probably mention some fact, or concept, or build background information, fill in those gaps.

For many underserved kids, they don’t have those opportunities. This is not a pity party, so hold on. They have plenty of strengths, but–and I’m channeling Theresa Perry here–they don’t have someone/anyone systematically handing over knowledge and cultural capital in any consistent format.

About a week ago, I took up another friend on her offer to have dinner, the night after I’d moved into my new place (finally). Of course I took her up on that! We enjoyed this stick-to-your-ribs soup and then, the parents of another family that was there, too, asked their son about a quiz he had the next day.

The cities in Japan. They quizzed him. Then, because he couldn’t name all the cities, they printed out a map of Japan, labeled the cities with him, and then proceeded to come up with a creative mnemonic for him to remember on his quiz the next day.

I was in awe: it was exactly what I meant about the handing over of cultural capital AT THE DINNER TABLE.

I could not have scripted a better moment if I’d tried.

Now what if we re-envisioned the dinner table, took it out of our houses (for those that even have those things, and let’s be real–not all kids do) and brought it to places where kids could sit down and “eat,” as it were? What if we encouraged kids (and adults, too, most likely) to pull up a table and give them the nourishment that they need?

Classrooms can be such places, yes. Wherever these spaces crop up, shouldn’t we hand over the cultural capital in a way that allows them to walk in the world as more knowledgeable, more brilliant young people?

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Filed under Equity, Writing About Race

Are They YOUR Children?

Lisa Delpit wrote the important book Other People’s Children, and I hope people still read it for what is to be learned about teaching kids of color, and really all kids who are underrepresented or misrepresented.

I tend to think of all of my students as my children, quite frankly. (I read about this brilliant teacher who, on the first day of school, asked every student his/her name and then repeated the student’s name, but gave the student the teacher’s last name. I’ve considered doing that…)One today reminds me of how I’d hope my nephew will be at the age of 15: curious, gangly, funny, taking direction, wanting to achieve and improve. And because I tend to think of him in that way–as part of my family–I tend to make sure I stay on him, push him, make sure he understands directions, demand more (warmly, of course), but always work from a baseline of care and concern for who he is as a student. That viewpoint actually extends (and extended) to my students in the suburbs, even the tough ones.

Suddenly, when one of those students does or says something that might be walking that thin line between brilliant and outrageous (and is probably somewhere in between), you correct and encourage with an eye towards the student knowing what he/she did wrong, how to fix it, and how to build on that. You don’t just see that student for what they did wrong; rather, you see in them the potential to do so much right.

And we need them to do so much right…better yet, we need to do so much right by them.

When you have an interest in the kids, it changes how you teach them. More, I think, when you think of them as your personal responsibility, it can swing the axis of achievement because, if that was your kid, you would do everything possible to give that child the best opportunity for success. At least I hope so.

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Filed under Equity