The Urban Review, Vol. 37, No.

1, March 2005 (Ó 2005)

DOI: 10.1007/s11256-005-3560-8

Black on Black Education:

Personally Engaged Pedagogy for/by
African American Pre-Service Teachers

Theodorea Regina Berry

Public schools have increasing numbers of its teachers fitting into one demographic, white
and female, while the numbers of African American teachers decrease (Ladson-Billings,
Crossing over to Canaan: The Journey of New Teachers in Diverse Classrooms. San
Francisco: Josey-Bass [2001]). Furthermore, African American collegiates who decide to
enter teaching may face a chilly climate as a result of their cultural and educational
experiences as they encounter devaluation in the classroom (Delpit, Other People’s
Children: Cultural Conflict in the Class room. New York: The New Press [1995]).
As a result, African American pre-service teachers may question the validity of the formal
curriculum presented in college as it conflicts with their perceptions of school, thereby,
leaving teacher-educators largely responsible for the quality of life and subsequent
devotion to profession of these students. Critical autoethnography, using
fieldnotes/research journaling, and student memoirs all through a theoretical backdrop of
critical race feminism provide a glimpse into the teaching and learning experiences and
dilemmas of one African American female teacher educator utilizing what I call personally
engaged pedagogy as a means of enhancing the quality of the learning experiences of
her African American pre-service teachers.

KEY WORDS: African American pre-service teachers; memoir; pedagogy; teacher education.

INTRODUCTION
As a member of society journeying through this new 21st century, I see
that public schools have increasing numbers of its teachers fitting into one
demographic: white and female (National Center of Education Statistics,

Theodorea Regina Berry is an AERA-IES Post-Doctoral Fellow at the University of Illinois

at Chicago, College of Education, Curriculum and Instruction. Her research interests are
memoir in teacher education, critical examination of race/ethnicity/gender in teaching and
teacher education, and African American women and education. Address correspondence to
Theodorea R. Berry, AERA-IES Post-Doctoral Fellow, College of Education (MC 147),
Curriculum and Instruction, University of Illinois at Chicago, 1040 West Harrison Street,
Chicago, IL 60607-7133, USA; e-mail: tberry@uic.edu.
31

0042-0972/05/0300-0031/0 Ó 2005 Springer ScienceþBusiness Media, Inc.

32 THE URBAN REVIEW

2000) In the meanwhile, I am noticing the numbers of African American

teachers decrease. This is a direct reflection of the populations of students in
teacher education programs in the United States.

The prospective teacher population is . . . predominantly white. The enrollment of

schools, colleges, and departments of education (SCDEs) in the late 1990s was
495,000. Of these students, 86 percent were white; about 7 percent were African
American; about 3 percent were Latino. The number of Asian–Pacific Islander
and American Indian–Alaskan Native students enrolled in SCDEs is negligible
(Ladson-Billings, 2001, p. 4).

African American collegiates who decide to enter teaching may face a

chilly climate. Delpit (1995) highlights teacher education programs and the
environments therein as a significant reason for African Americans and
other minority students desiring to depart from the profession. We, as
student–teachers, bring our experiences from our in-school and out-of-
school lives that impact the way we think about ourselves and the world
around us into the collegiate classroom. ‘‘Prospective teachers do not easily
relinquish beliefs—developed as a result of their own cultural and educa-
tional experiences—about themselves or others’’ (Ladson-Billings, 1994,
pp. 130–131). However, as pre-service teachers, we are expected to acquire
the knowledge and skills (that may be contrary to those beliefs) necessary to
be effective in the classroom. African American collegiates often experience
degradation of self-worth and personal knowledge in the classroom (Delpit,
1995). ‘‘Most of the black . . . teachers interviewed [by Delpit] believe
accounts of their own experience are not validated in teacher education
programs. . .’’ (Delpit, 1995, p. 108). As a result, African American pre-
service teachers question the validity of the formal curriculum presented in
college as it conflicts, in many cases, with their perceptions of school based
on their experiences (Hooks, 1994), thereby, leaving teacher-educators
largely responsible for the quality of life and subsequent devotion to
profession of African American students in teacher education.
So, what do we, as teacher-educators, do about this dilemma? How do we
improve the quality of experiences of African American pre-service teachers
that may, in turn, impact upon their success in the profession?
This paper focuses on my work as a northern born, raised, and educated
African American female teacher-educator utilizing bell hooks’ engaged
pedagogy for African American pre-service teachers in the South as a means
of improving their quality of experiences. This paper will begin with a brief
examination of who I am as an African American woman to contextualize
this work through the histories/identities I bring into the classroom,
acknowledging that I bring my whole self into the teacher education
 BLACK ON BLACK EDUCATION 33

classroom. I will also provide some information about my students to point

out the intersections and departures of our identities. Following this, I will
discuss the theoretical framework, critical race feminism, I use to ‘see’ this
experience, and the methodologies, critical autoethnography and memoir, to
engage in this experience. Additionally, I will discuss bell hooks’ engaged
pedagogy. The story of this experience will follow the discussion regarding
bell hooks’ engaged pedagogy and the paper will concluded with reflective
thoughts about this experience.

Who I Am

I am a native of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and I was educated in the

city’s public schools in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s when school integration
was new and exciting and my peers were from families of varying racial,
ethnic, and socio-economic backgrounds. I consider myself a daughter of
time and fortune because my education was substantially influenced by the
efforts and gains made by those before me. I was the benefactor of the Civil
Rights movement, the women’s liberation or feminist movement, Title I,
Title IX, and every other legislative act that succeeded all of the Movements.
I did not have to fight against weapons, police and their dogs or angry White
people to enter school. I had new textbooks, new classrooms and only a few
(chronologically) old teachers. I went from walking home for lunch every-
day to having lunch in school. I could participate equally and freely without
my biology entirely dictating limitations and parameters. I am a second
generation college graduate whose ancestors could be labeled Black, Red
and White, who served this country in the military several times over, who
served White people more than I care to articulate, and who moved around
like eastern European gypsies. All of the benefits and lessons I learned from
those before me and my educational experiences during this historical era of
education are a significant part of who I am as a teacher-educator. I learned
from my maternal grandmother who escaped from reservation living that I
could be educated without being assimilated. So, I encourage my students to
challenge everything they learn. I learned from my paternal grandmother
that all of your stories, published and unpublished, travel with you wherever
you go. So, I take all of who I am into the classroom. I learned from my
father that freedom isn’t free. So, I bear the responsibility to find someone to
take along my journey and lift them up as I climb. All of these and other
Black, Red and White people in my life were different with differing expe-
riences. Through them, collectively, I learned to value the differences within
and the importance of knowing who you are.
So, there I was, carrying all of who I am to a historically Black university
located in North Carolina where the majority of the students at this
34 THE URBAN REVIEW

institution are residents of the state where the university is geographically

situated. The majority of the students are African American, thereby,
making the majority of the students enrolled in the institution’s teacher
education program African American. However, the majority of the faculty
in this teacher education program is White.
Additionally, many of the students were first generation college students
receiving some form of financial aid. This became evident to me when I
learned (from the students) that many of them would not have books for my
classes until their refund checks were available.
My African American students were, mostly, born and raised in the
South. I didn’t share their experiences of being ‘in the cut’, chopping cotton
and tobacco, and understanding the difference between fixin’ to do some-
thing and fittin’ to do something. However, I knew what it meant to watch
someone step, play double-dutch and jax, and to be chillin’ on the yard. As I
discovered the intersections and departures of our identities as African
Americans, I decided to engage in this teaching and learning experience
from this place.

What I Believe

I subscribe to and advocate critical race feminism (CRF). As an out-

growth of critical legal studies and critical race theory, it suits my sensibil-
ities in that it acknowledges, addresses, and accepts my Black experiences as
different from those of my brothers (critical race theory) and my woman-
hood as different from those of my sisters (feminist theory). Critical race
theory (CRT) has been identified as a movement of ‘‘a collection of activists
and scholars interested in studying and transforming the relationship among
race, racism, and power’’ (Delgado and Stefanic, 2001, p. 2). CRT has
several basic principles, three of which are most appropriate for this dis-
cussion. The first principle asserts that racism is ordinary and normal in
American society. Rather than accept the societal marginalization placed
upon people of color as identified in CRT, critical race feminism places me
and my sisters as women of color in the center, rather than the margins, of
the discussion, debate, contemplation, reflection, theorizing, research, and
praxis of our lives as we co-exist in dominant culture. CRT and CRF
adherents like myself utilize narrative or storytelling as counterstories to the
master narrative, the dominant discourse. Here, I will share some stories of
my experiences as an African American female teacher educator teaching
African American pre-service teachers. These stories, unlike many stories in
teaching and teacher education, are intended to provide avenues toward new
lessons for teaching African American pre-service teachers. However, unlike
CRT adherents, critical race feminism is multidisciplinary as its draws from
 BLACK ON BLACK EDUCATION 35

‘‘writings of women and men who are not legal scholars’’ (Wing, p. 5, 1997)
as evidenced in the social and political writings of Collins (1990; 1998),
Hooks (1990) and James (1999).
CRF is supportive of and concerned with theory and practice. As an
adherent of the CRF movement, I believe abstract theorizing must be
supported with actual concerns of the community. Here, I not only want to
support engaged pedagogy (which will be discussed later) as a theory but
also as a practice within the context of teacher education, a significant place
for pedagogy to live. More importantly, my desire is to have hooks’ engaged
pedagogy live as a means of improving the quality of experiences of an
important sector of the African American community: African American
teachers. As an advocate of CRF, I support a discourse of resistance such as
that found in engaged pedagogy (which will be discussed later).
CRF suits my sensibilities as it addresses all of my intersecting beings:
African American, woman, teacher-educator, researcher, scholar, sister,
friend, and more. By permitting myself to engage in the ideology of critical
race feminism, I can be more free to bring all of who I am into the class-
room. By doing so, I can disregard the monolithic discourse of the universal
Black woman and acknowledge the multi-dimensionality of my personhood.
But, why is critical race feminism important to teaching African Amer-
ican pre-service teachers? CRF encourages me to acknowledge and accept of
my multi-dimensionality as an African American woman who is a teacher-
educator, among other things. As such, I must understand that I bring my
whole self and all connected experiences, into the classroom. By under-
standing this, I also understand that my students bring all of their experi-
ences and knowledge into the classroom. What I intend to teach to them
gets filtered through these experiences. CRF also acknowledges the impor-
tance of storytelling. Students’ stories, including their stories of school, are
important to know in the context of their development as teachers because
these stories, these experiences, may influence what they learn and how they
learn it as well as what they choose to teach and how they choose to teach as
emerging teachers. Making their stories important to the teaching and
learning experience also centers, rather than marginalizes, their personhood.
CRF advocates for such centering. Through the lenses of CRF, I could ‘see’
my complexities. By viewing the world through such lenses, I can ‘see’ more
of the complexities of ‘‘others’’.

How I Made It

I taught a class within a teacher education program in a School of

Education that consisted of 28 students of which 25 were African
American men and women of traditional college age (18–25 years). Of these
36 THE URBAN REVIEW

25 students, 17 were women and 8 were men. My primary data collection

utilized students’ memoirs (educational autobiographies), research journal-
ing, and exit cards—index cards provided at the end of each class session
with anonymous comments and/or questions about that day’s session. I
conducted the class using hooks’ engaged pedagogy (which will be discussed
later)—interweaving the curriculum into my life experiences and those of my
students—and critical autoethnography. CRF was the theoretical frame-
work under which I, as teacher-educator could understand the multiplicity
of story presented by my students as multi-dimensionality of story serves as
one of the tenants of CRF.

Memoir and Critical Autoethnography

This work was constructed through memoir and critical autoethnography

I started the class by giving my students, as an assignment, the task of
writing their memoirs/educational autobiographies to be entitled ‘‘What
School Was Like For Me’’. I gave the students the first four weeks of the
semester to complete this assignment and to address their memories of their
educational and schooling experiences any way they chose. Upon receipt of
these stories, I read and reflected upon what these students chose to share
with me and constructed meaning from their messages. The exit cards
helped me to understand whether (or not) I, as teacher-educator, had
interpreted or misinterpreted the messages of their stories. From these
‘construction sites’, I found ways to teach and reach these students within
the context of the curriculum. As we engaged in this curriculum, students
shared other memories of schooling stories that provided me with additional
opportunities to (re) construct the curriculum.
Rather than the term ‘autobiography’, I prefer the term ‘memoir’.
Memoir, for the purpose of this study, is a written record of experiences
provided by the writer. I prefer this term because it reflects what I believe to
be a pertinent component of telling one’s story: memory. Telling the story is
important; however, equally important is what is remembered and what is
selected to be told from that memory. Written experiences are based on the
writer’s memories, reflect the writer’s ability to recall, as well as how and
what the writer recalls. Kelly (1997) points out that what we remember and
what we tell about ourselves, most particularly, what version of self is
promoted, usually ‘‘reflects the preferred notion of self and meaning in
current circulation’’ (p. 50). Kelly (1997) provides special attention to the
use of such memoirs in education by ‘‘members of socially marginalized
groups’’ (p. 51). Memoir has provided a means by which such groups can
expose social and political oppression from a historical perspective; how-
ever, as a cautionary note, by placing in view a particular self silences other
 BLACK ON BLACK EDUCATION 37

versions of self and potentially essentializes a group identity. CRF opposes

such essentializations as it recognizes multi-dimensionality of personhood.
I realize that in telling these stories, there are many other stories untold.
I realize that in telling these stories, I am promoting a particular version of
self, an African American female teacher-educator. I realize that in telling
these stories, readers may feel permitted to essentialize the experiences of
African American women as teacher educators. I realize that in telling these
stories, readers may feel permitted to essentailize the experiences of African
Americans in teacher education. But these stories, ladened with lessons from
my ancestors, though promoting what I know from what I remember, are
memories and lessons to be added to another’s memory for new lessons.
They will be among the multiple of existing stories.
Critical autoethnography opposes essentializations of any groups as it
seeks to understand tensions in power relationships within a culture ‘‘on
three levels simultaneously: the issues being researched, the research process
itself and the researcher’’ (Kincheloe, 1991, p. 146). The issues being
researched in this work is teacher-educator praxis; the research process is the
application of memoir for critical reflection; the researcher identity is
teacher-self. The central focus of this work is the re-positioning of my work
as teacher-educator toward an impact on my praxis that will reflect a deeper
consideration of my students’ educational lives. In this case, the narrative
presented places me in the social context of the university classroom as
co-conspirator in the power struggle. My desire is to have the students’ life
experiences to bear precedence in this struggle.

Hooks’ Engaged Pedagogy

Life experiences, when permitted into the classroom and given voice, can
call to task the established of official knowledge (Apple, 2000) generated,
supported, and perpetuated in education. These life experiences, as the
foreground toward addressing issues within the curriculum, serve as one
significant component in engaged pedagogy. Hooks (1994) speaks elegantly
about the process of teaching students ‘‘in a manner that respects and cares
for ‘‘ (p. 13) their souls as opposed to ‘‘a rote, assembly line approach’’
(p. 13). As a contrast to the ‘safe’ place of lecture and invited response,
Hooks (1994) moves to a place of resistance as she espouses ‘‘a progressive,
holistic education . . . more demanding than critical or feminist pedagogy’’
(p. 15). hooks advocates an education that goes beyond the classroom
(Florence, 1998) and relates to them as whole human beings. Beyer (as cited
in Florence, 1998) suggests that this may mean including elements of pop-
ular culture in the classroom experience. In this study, I incorporated stu-
dents’ schooling lives in the classroom experience. Such valuation
38 THE URBAN REVIEW

‘‘redistribute[es] power to students’’ (Ellsworth, 1989, p. 306), delineates

‘‘the socially constructed and legitmated authority that teachers/professor
hold over student’’ (p. 306) and understands that students’ lived experiences
provides dimensions of knowledge into the classroom that the teacher/
professor could not know ‘‘better’’ than the student.
Another significant component of engaged pedagogy is mutual vulnera-
bility. The life experiences of the students within the context of the curric-
ulum as a means of validating the curriculum is important. However, such
vulnerability must be mutual; engaged pedagogy warrants the vulnerability
of the teacher/professor via revealment of personal lived experiences in
connection with the subject. In fact, hooks insists that initial revealment
come from the teacher/professor, facilitating movement from that safe place
to a place of resistance. Teacher/professor revealment has the potential to
shift the power relationship. The possibility of change in the power rela-
tionship between teacher/professor and student(s) via teacher/professor
revealment has the potential to change the way teacher education is con-
ceptualized.
In order for students to begin and continue to reveal their memoirs, trust
has to be established through the duration of the relationship. As a teacher-
educator utilizing engaged pedagogy, I have to establish this trust. Fur-
thermore, engaged pedagogy requires me to initiate vulnerability to establish
trust. I believe that telling my own story first helps to establish that trust;
revealing other life stories about myself in the context of the curriculum
strengthened the trust and established an environment where students
revealed their own stories.

TEACHING ONE ANOTHER

Stories

Starting Out
I introduced myself to the class. ‘‘I just moved here from the Chicago
area, and I’m learning things about this area and the university. So, if I
make some mistakes, just bear with me and help me out a little’’. One
African American student asked, ‘‘Are you from Chicago’’ ‘‘No’’, I replied.
‘‘I’m from Philadelphia. But I haven’t lived there since I finished high
school’’. ‘‘Did you go to college in Chicago’’, another African American
female student asked. ‘‘No. I moved to Chicago to attend graduate school’’.
One African American male student offered a barrage of other questions
and I answered all that I felt were appropriate for response; some, such as
‘‘Do you have a boyfriend’’, I felt were too personal. I just didn’t know
 BLACK ON BLACK EDUCATION 39

them well enough to share that much of me. At this point, I revealed part of
my story.
After graduating from college, I moved to the Boston area to take a
position in the higher education administration field. Two years later, I
moved to the Washington, DC area where I lived for four and a half years.
This was where I started working for the US Department of Defense. I
transferred my job from the Pentagon to the DoD European Theater of
Operations in Germany where I worked in three different cities during the
six and a half year I spent there: Frankfurt, Wiesbaden, and Mannheim.
However, after my first year in Germany, I decided I wanted to get back into
education. And for every year longer I spent in Germany, I longed deeper to
be an educator. Finally, I left to attend graduate school.
One White female student asked what I wanted to do when I was in
college. ‘‘I had a double major in music and communications and wanted to
go into sound engineering’’, I replied. ‘‘What instruments did you play’’,
asked an African American male. ‘‘I was a voice major in music and a
newspaper and radio major in communications’’, I replied. Following my
response, there were several requests for me to sing something. I politely
declined. Like a true prima donna, I just didn’t feel prepared to perform in
front of an audience. ‘‘So, what made you want to teach’’. . .
When I reflect on this question, I think about all of the teachers who were
positive role models in my life. I think about the teacher who taught me to
read. I think about the teacher who taught me to sing. I think about the
teacher who encouraged me to write. I also think about all of the experiences
I had inside and outside of school. When I wasn’t singing, I was teaching.
Teaching and learning have been a large part of my life. I suppose that is
why I longed for it so.

Metaphors and Similes of Schooling

Students walked into the room and found their seats as they chatted
excitedly about a myriad of things of which I could not keep track. I started
the class session by having the students organize themselves in groups of
four to discuss the assigned reading for the day’s session and develop a
listing with explanations of metaphors and similes of schooling. In my
explanation of the task, I provided my own metaphor.
‘‘School is like a garden, the teacher is the gardener, the students are the
flowers and plants, and the principal is garden specialist or florist who
provides resources to care for the plants and flowers and guidance to care
for them properly. If the principal or the teacher lack something, the stu-
dents suffer. However, the care and nurturance they both provide help the
students to grow. Students can gain care and nurturance from outside
40 THE URBAN REVIEW

sources as well, such as parents and community members who are like rain
and sunshine to the plants and flowers’’.
The students applauded. One White female student raised her hand.
‘‘Does it have to be that complex’’? ‘‘No, but I’m sure you can find many
ways to make connections to the metaphors and similes you would like to
present with the help of the members of your group’’, I responded. Nancy
(I have changed all the names) asked, ‘‘Was school really that good for
you’’? Some students started to giggle. Nancy turned around in her seat and
looked at them harshly. ‘‘You know what I mean’’, she scolded. I explained
that the adults in my K-12 schooling experiences did, indeed, make school a
nurturing, caring place for me, most of the time. I didn’t have good peer
relationships in school until high school because my peers saw me as odd
and different. ‘‘I was the skinny, dark-skinned, smart girl with braces’’, I
explained. ‘‘But, you chose to use a positive metaphor’’, the White female
student responded. I explained to the class that they could use and/or share
any metaphor they wanted, positive or negative.
‘‘School is like a jail, the students are like prisoners, the teachers are
prison guards and the principal is the warden’’, one student I’ll call D.
Students were assigned to read a chapter of the text entitled Metaphors of
Schooling and I was in the midst of facilitating a discussion based on an
in-class small group assignment to develop metaphors and similes of school.
When D provided his response, the class responded in thunderous applause,
some students standing while clapping. I couldn’t help but to believe that
many of these students did not often experience school in positive ways.
Reminded me of D’s story of silence.
After our first week of classes, D indicated to me and students within
earshot that he thought this was going to be a good class. ‘‘How do you know
that? We just got started here’’, one African American female student pro-
claimed. ‘‘Because, man, she lets me talk. All these other professors ‘round
here always talkin’ about how bad I talk and tellin’ me to be quiet and stuff. I’m
a history ed major an’ I know my stuff; I jus’ don’ say nuthin’ cause they don’t
like me’’, D explained in a slow, deliberate manner. ‘‘He’s right, Professor
Berry. He doesn’t talk much in his other classes; he talks more in your class
than any of the other classes we have together’’, the African American female
student responded. ‘‘I guess this will be a good class’’.

One Black Male Teacher

‘‘Dr. Miss Berry’’, D called out. ‘‘Who was the worst teacher you ever
had’’? I shared with him and the rest of the class my experience with my
second grade teacher. Mrs. O was the only White teacher I had in
elementary school. After surviving and thriving through a very difficult first
 BLACK ON BLACK EDUCATION 41

grade year as a learner, I was anxious to show off all I had learned to my

new teacher. But as the year proceeded, I found that the teacher would
rarely call on me in class and often would not allow me the read the books I
wanted to read, always explaining that she thought they were too difficult.
When the first report card for the school year was issued and delivered to my
parents, they went to the school to talk to the teacher. With me by their side,
they told the teacher in a very angry tone that they did not understand how
she could grade me so low when she rarely gave me anything to do for
homework and very little to read. At the end of the conversation, Mrs. O
promised to allow me to do anything I wanted to do. However, for the
remainder of the year, I did all of my schoolwork, reading, math work-
sheets, and writing, alone while she explained to the rest of the class that I
had ‘different’ work to do because I was ‘special’. This caused me to reflect
on Nancy’s story of schooling.
Nancy wrote about an African American male teacher she had in fourth
grade who she referred to as ‘‘the meanest black man I ever met’’. This
experience, coupled with the periodic absence of her father, made me wonder
how she would interact with her Black male colleagues. Furthermore, I con-
sidered how her experiences might influence her relationships with her (future)
Black male students. I decided to bring my brother in as a guest speaker.
I invited Andre’ to speak to the class as an educator and CEO and Founder
of the Genesis Tutorial Program about community entities in schools, North
Carolina education, teaching in a charter school, and parental involvement.
The students asked about the mission of charter schools, student discipline,
teacher liability, and problem-solving in schools. Students also asked ques-
tions regarding parental influence and involvement in education and made
connections to their personal experiences as students and, in some cases,
parents. My brother shared personal and professional experiences as a parent
and a teacher. Students were highly engaged in the dialogue and appeared to
be comfortable in speech and demeanor. Exit cards for this class session read
‘‘great class’’, ‘‘really enjoyed the class’’, ‘‘love to have him back, ‘‘enlight-
ening’’, ‘‘insightful’’, and ‘‘very informative’’.
After the class session, Nancy walked toward my brother and extended
her hand. ‘‘I hope to be working with you someday’’, she stated as she shook
his hand. She left to go to her next class.

Test Anxiety

When I reviewed the syllabus with the class at the beginning of the
semester, I explained that rather than give long, arduous tests I would give a
short, narrative response quizzes each week based on the weekly reading
assignment. Some of the students questioned the purpose for the design of
42 THE URBAN REVIEW

the quizzes, stating they would prefer a multiple choice design. I explained
that this designed served two purposes. First, I would be able to listen to
their thoughts and opinions on the assigned topic. Second, essay (narrative)
style assessments would model the Praxis II teacher certification exams these
students would be required to take. Many students’ stories spoke of their
disdain for tests and testing, in class and in their memoirs. I could sense their
stress. As much as I wanted to just do away with the concept, this form of
assessment was an expectation within the School of Education. As a junior
faculty member, I didn’t want to fight a battle for something I could simply
modify. But how would I address the needs of my students? How could I
help them relieve some stress, if only a little, about the idea of taking a test? I
incorporated a choir exercise learned in high school.
On the very first quiz day, students entered the room looking quite
anxious and somewhat distressed. You could cut the tension in the room
with a knife. As they entered the room, I handed each student a quiz
paper. Since the quizzes were short (one or two questions), I allotted
25 min, half the class session, to complete the quiz. Most of the students
had completed the quiz and handed in their papers before the allotted
time had expired. When the quiz time had expired, I announced to the
class that we were about to engage in a physical exercise that required
touching another person; if they did not feel comfortable with this idea,
they were not required to participate. I then asked those students who
desired to participate to stand up and line up in a single file, facing
another person’s back. Students were then asked to massage the shoul-
ders of the person standing in front of them. The room immediately
erupted in laughter and conversation as the massaging began. I allowed
the students to continue in this manner for approximately one minute; at
this point, I asked to the students to turn around so as to face the back
of the person who was previously standing behind them and massage the
shoulders of that person.
When the minute expired, I asked the students to take their seats. ‘‘Why
did you think about the exercise?’’, I asked. Most students commented that
they enjoyed the experience and felt much better after taking the quiz. One
African American female stated that she felt uncomfortable but wanted to
try it to see what was going to happen. ‘‘I don’t think I’ll do that next time’’,
she added. ‘‘That’s okay’’, I responded. You don’t have to’’.

ENGAGING TENSIONS
Ethical Dilemmas

The dilemma of the written versus the non-written stories between tea-
cher-educator and her students was great. I did not provide a written
 BLACK ON BLACK EDUCATION 43

account of my stories, rather verbal accounts were made available in the

context of the curriculum. I exercised power through the request in the
disguise of an assignment.
But, to look deeper would mean to question what right I had to ask such
details of my students’ lives. How could I be so bold as to ask to make such
details public? Was I not playing out the master narrative (Romeo and
Stewart, 1999) as teacher with the right to ask students to do whatever I ask
under the auspices of teaching and learning?
Students were asked to write their educational autobiographies (mem-
oirs). And I realized, as Smith (as cited in Jipson, 1995) noted, that
‘‘autobiographical writing is always a gesture towards publicity . . .’’ (p.
190).
But I worried that to have done so would have imposed upon the stu-
dents ‘the right way’ to tell their stories. My story may have become the
master narrative (Romeo and Stewart, 1999). Instead, I was the teacher who
was asking of them something great while, initially, providing very little in
return. Instead, I was this strange person asking them to reveal things about
themselves.

Recall and Revealment

To tell one story is to surpress other stories. Kelly (1997) believes that
what one recalls may be different from what one chooses to reveal from the
recalled. These choices may be influenced by (1) who is the recipient of the
information (2) the trust relationship between the informant and the
informed and (3) the context under which the information is being revealed.
Ellsworth’s (1989) concerns regarding the ‘‘asymmetrical positions . . . of
difference and privilege’’ (p. 315) held true here.
Through the process of personally engaged pedagogy, educational
autobiographies for engaged pedagogy, I realized that regardless of the
commonality of race I maintained the power position traditionally reserved
for the teacher. This is where the master narrative paradigm and issues of
recall and revealment intersect. I created the assignment, determined when it
would be ‘‘finished’’, and determined how it would be used. I followed the
traditional and expected role of the teacher. Therefore, what was revealed to
me in the students’ memoirs was filtered through this role. An assignment
intended to give voice to students’ experiences maintained the political
singularity found in critical pedagogy, as identified by Ellsworth. The
assignment produced empowerment coming from me, as teacher-educator,
not my students. Based on her (1989) writing, Ellsworth would be opposed
to such transactions in pedagogy. The ‘‘asymmetrical positions . . . of dif-
ference and privilege’’ (p. 315) played out in the initial assignment and not in
44 THE URBAN REVIEW

the dialogue—the point of departure for critical pedagogy and engaged

pedagogy.

The Art of Writing

I asked the students to write, rather than narrate, their students so as to

prevent filtration through my thoughts and ideas. I also made the deliberate
decision prior to receiving these stories that, except for minor punctuation
and capitalization errors, I would not alter what these students submitted to
me. I assumed that, as college students, they would have basic skills in
grammar, sentence structure, and organization. This assumption was
developed from my experiences as student and teacher-educator. Upon
reflection, I realized that I was imposing my identity as student onto their
experiences through my expectations of what I believed students should
know. As a result, I was given the opportunity to know my students through
their writing and the spaces in their writing.

NOTHING EVEN MATTERS

Knowing is an experienced thing and experiences give us knowing. My
experiences with these African American students provided me with lessons
of knowing I do not believe I could have acquired without knowing them.
And the things they did and said were equally as important as the things
they omitted, intentionally or unintentionally.
During the course of the semester, I noticed that some students were more
vocal than others. This did not mean that these students did not have anything
to say. But, it could mean that, for reasons too numerous to speculate, they
chose not to reveal what they may have been thinking. The memoir writing
assignment may have also created some barriers to knowing for me in this
classroom experience. The imposition of my student identity did not allow me
to ‘see’ that writing may not have been the ideal form for each student to
communicate their memories of their educational experiences. As a result,
there may have been numerous stories excluded, unvoiced in this assignment
simply based on the venue for presenting such stories. In both of these cases,
there were things left unsaid where I had to discover the messages on my own.
But, there were also things said that were not explicit or deliberate.
I learned it is important to facilitate nurture, and appreciate possession of
a dual discourse. According to Gee (as cited in Delpit, 1995), this would
mean that students would have a ‘‘mainstream discourse’’ (p. 160) and a
‘‘home or community-based discourse’’ (p. 160). With this knowledge, I was
able to focus on what the students were saying rather than how they were
communicating.
 BLACK ON BLACK EDUCATION 45

I learned that storytelling(s), a tenet of CRF, is an effective and meaningful

way of understanding for both the teacher-educator and the student. This
means that I had to respect the right of the student to speak or not to speak
and I had to listen carefully and patiently. African American students tell
stories differently; that doesn’t mean they are less literate than white students.
Additionally, I learned that teaching through counterstory is also an
effective and meaningful way to not only gain the understating and trust
required of hooks’ engaged pedagogy but to create multiple perspective of a
story. This is especially true of personally engaged pedagogy as the story/
memoir of the student serves as the launching point for the teacher-educator in
hooks’ engaged pedagogy and is the location of multi-dimensionality. Nancy*
describes her years in a local North Carolina school as ‘‘the worst years’’ in her
life and one African American male teacher as ‘‘the meanest Black man [she]
had ever met’’. This prompted me to invite my brother, Andre’, to speak to my
class. I was compelled to find a concrete way to offer at least one other per-
spective regarding African American male teachers.
Listening meant I was held accountable, responsible for responding to
what the students were telling me. Nancy and her African American teacher,
D and his experiences with silencing were opportunities to let my students
know I was listening. But listening isn’t just about what is conveyed, written
or verbally. Listening also means paying attention to what is not said and
what it means for some students to be silent.

BLACK ON BLACK EDUCATION

‘‘To Learn Black’’
To learn Black
in schools means
Martin Luther King
is
the greatest man who ever lived
and
to forgive
slavery and the white man.
To learn Black
in the streets
when brothers’ eyes meet,
you must acknowledge him
or commit the sin
of absence and oblivion.
To learn Black
is the sounds
46 THE URBAN REVIEW

of ‘Round
Midnight,
Alright,
Out-of-sight,
Turn of the lights,
Fight
the power,
Tower of Power, and Lauryn Hill’s
The Final Hour.
To learn Black
is food so sweet
like cornbread and stewed chicken meat,
pigs’ feet
sweet
potatoes,
mangoes,
milk flowing
over sweetened sticky rice,
pies,
and cake
that make
you shake, like jelly ‘‘cause jam don’t shake like that.
To learn Black
in love
because
your man
or your woman
is all that,
got your back,
will pick up your slack
and understands that
when you’re feeling low
you can go
to him
to her
and he
and she
will know
without words.
I am learning Black, everyday.
As mentioned earlier, few African American students pursuing college
degrees select teaching as a profession for various reason too numerous to
mention. And those who do may not enter into the classroom if their teacher
 BLACK ON BLACK EDUCATION 47

education experiences do not meet their needs. However, those African

American student teachers who enter the profession are likely to teach
students who look like them.
As a teacher-educator, my hope was to improve the quality of the teacher
education experience for my African American students while engaging in a
critical praxis that would influence the way these students would teach. My
hope was to reveal enough of myself to establish trust with my students. My
hope is that the way I have taught, this personally engaged pedagogy, would
provide one means of connecting with their (future) students.
Personally engaged pedagogy requires the memoirs of the students to be
centered in the classroom experience while the teacher/professor initiates
such vulnerability in revealment of her story/memoir. As an advocate of
CRF I realize these stories/memoirs serve as not only counterstory to the
lived experience of the teacher/professor but also, especially in the case of
African American pre-service teachers, to the (often) monolithic experience
of the traditional/mainstream, White and female pre-service teacher.
Engaging in such a praxis required that I, as teacher-educator, acknowledge
and understand the multiplicity and intersectionality of praxis and being that
exist particularly for African American teachers and teacher-educators. As
an African American female, I am more than just the sum of collective parts:
African American, female, teacher-educator, scholar, daughter, sister, friend,
etc. I am one indivisible being (Wing, 1997). My life experiences and multiple
identities are intertwined, interconnected. I bring all of who I am into the
classroom. The same holds true for these African American student–teach-
ers. Their multiple and intersecting identities as African American, Southern-
raised, students, and teachers, among others, enters and occupies the
classroom space. And each of us brings our lives and our stories into this
space. We share this space and we share our stories. This interconnectedness
develops new stories. These new stories are not our own because of their
connectedness to others. Through this connectedness I was afforded the
privilege of knowing my students in the context of the curriculum.
These (future) teachers may teach from the perspective of their students
rather than from their educational experiences alone. These teachers may
allow their experiences to be colored by the educational experiences of their
(future) students. These teachers may value their students’ life experiences
and allow these experiences to enact power in the classroom. These teachers
may value the trust they earn from their students toward the quality of their
education. These teachers may engage in critically reflective teaching. These
teachers might allow their students to guide and direct their teaching
practices. These teachers might solicit feedback from students, parents, and
community members regarding instructional practices. And in these days of
standardized curriculums and high-stakes testing, having a different direc-
48 THE URBAN REVIEW

tion from which to address instruction may increase successful learning and
aid in the closing of the achievement gap for African American children.
These teachers may be preparing future teachers who could be instrumental
in eradicating standardized curriculums, high-stakes testing, master narra-
tives, and impositions of ideals and beliefs in public education. And, some of
these African American teachers may have counterstories for educational
uplifting of their students.

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