Last Thursday Reggie Barnes spoke with all the first-year teachers and the Select Seven (the Elite Eight sans Elise, who has returned to Massachusetts to finish out her summer with another scheduled internship). It will be difficult to recall all of his various jobs and accomplishments, but now he works as an educational consultant after being the Superintendent of the West Tallahatchie School District among other things. During his work as the Superintendent, he was featured in the HBO documentary LaLee’s Kin, which gives an acute and terrible look into the deplorable conditions (of education, of society) in the Mississippi Delta. Mr. Barnes has seen it all, or a lot of it. What is the it that I mean? The mess of poverty and its effect on all aspects of the public education system. His sensitivity to, and his profound knowledge of, the problems makes him a long-time friend to the Mississippi Teacher Corps, whose participants he says bring “culture” into the Delta.
This word culture especially fascinated me. Mr. Barnes says I could bring culture to the students. What do I have to offer? I’m a little white guy from New York. I am different—look different, have a different vernacular, different accent, curious mannerisms, strange pastimes and hobbies (“What did you do last Friday night?”—“Read some Don Quixote.”), and an ordinary-Gary sense of style. Is this what Reggie means? I thought about it a little bit more. When someone shows the students a photograph of the Parthenon or Big Ben or Vatican City, I can say that I was there. I traveled to Greece, England, Rome twice, India three times, and all over the United States. I suppose that’s groovy, as a sideshow. What else? I’ve read some of the greatest literature and philosophy this world has ever seen. I know people at every corner of the earth. I’ve seen miracles. I suppose these are the things Mr. Barnes wants people to bring to Mississippi.
I acknowledge that I am “cultured” in a way that may be desired, but I question what the effect of such culture is. Some, including MTC’s Chimaobi Amutah, don’t seem to think this culture is really so valuable. I quote Mr. Amutah with all license because he wrote this as a response to one of my posts:
Here’s the bottom line. I’m not convinced that education gets people out of real poverty, even if it does give them a higher-paying job and the sense to not get into trouble with the law.
That was a huge digression. Back to Mr. Barnes. He was a brilliant speaker. He reminded me of my Latin teacher from high school, Mr. Kunz. They are both gruff and forceful, in a good way. They both speak softly, and then start yelling when they want to make a point. Yelling isn’t the right word. Bellowing? Hollering? No, roaring is probably more appropriate. Reggie has a way of commanding the room’s attention with the volume and intonation of his voice. He’s also very articulate. Speaking loud and fast keeps an audience on their toes and makes the slower, emphasized phrases all the more dramatic. If Mr. Barnes, or Mr. Kunz, told me to vote for him in the next presidential race, I would probably nod my head Yes as a knee-jerk reaction to his oratorical power.
His speech was mostly a rolling list of things to do and not do when teaching at a school in the Delta. Afterward, the Select Seven had an interview with him, and he shared the story of his younger years during the Civil Rights Movement. Especially fascinating was the rage he experienced during high school. A lot of times we see or read a story of violence among teenagers and think that they must have something so fundamentally twisted about them, that their parents are evil or negligent, and that they will always be violent. Mr. Barnes’s story goes against those assumptions. He said that he became a fighter and joined a gang for a few years in high school after Dr. King was assassinated, and he does not know why precisely. And then, he stopped. He saw the damage he could do and he turned away. What was it that did it for him? Did he see something different in one of his teachers? Was it a cultural influence? Or was it simply the unexplainable grace of God?
This word culture especially fascinated me. Mr. Barnes says I could bring culture to the students. What do I have to offer? I’m a little white guy from New York. I am different—look different, have a different vernacular, different accent, curious mannerisms, strange pastimes and hobbies (“What did you do last Friday night?”—“Read some Don Quixote.”), and an ordinary-Gary sense of style. Is this what Reggie means? I thought about it a little bit more. When someone shows the students a photograph of the Parthenon or Big Ben or Vatican City, I can say that I was there. I traveled to Greece, England, Rome twice, India three times, and all over the United States. I suppose that’s groovy, as a sideshow. What else? I’ve read some of the greatest literature and philosophy this world has ever seen. I know people at every corner of the earth. I’ve seen miracles. I suppose these are the things Mr. Barnes wants people to bring to Mississippi.
I acknowledge that I am “cultured” in a way that may be desired, but I question what the effect of such culture is. Some, including MTC’s Chimaobi Amutah, don’t seem to think this culture is really so valuable. I quote Mr. Amutah with all license because he wrote this as a response to one of my posts:
Quite honestly, I feel that MTC's ranks should be filled with Blacks FROM Mississippi. The rest of us should go back from whence we came and stop trying to force immediate, drastic change on a culture, people, and place that is not our own. White Man's Burden, Take 2. [sic. I think he meant to link this.] I feel that if White people are truly interested in ending (or decreasing the existence of) racism, educational inequality, and poverty in this nation then their quarrel should be with other Whites who are players in this system, big or small. People need to organize and educate folks in Ridgeland and Oxford just as much as Holly Springs or Rolling Fork.I must say that I disagree strongly with Mr. Amutah on this point, but I don’t completely agree with Mr. Barnes’s appeal to the cultural contribution of us non-Mississippians either. Mr. Amutah wants black locals in the black Delta schools, ideally at least. Mr. Barnes wants, for lack of a better term, foreigners. Mr. Amutah’s position will, I argue, ultimately re-segregate the system, ignore the problem of racism and educational inequity, and perpetuate the current conditions. Mr. Barnes’s position, however, doesn’t seem to offer much more benefit to me: the foreigners will occupy the territory, preach in their own language, and (mostly) leave in two years. The assumption is that our peculiarities will translate readily into the students’ language and be seen as something desirable, something to inspire them to pursue a similar experience. But what if it doesn’t translate? What if my cultural invasion is rejected? Moreover, how can I be so sure that what I’ve got is worth giving? There are only a few things in my life that I would want someone else to take, if they even can be taken: my faith in God, my hope in Christ, and my love for my neighbors. My travels and reading and knowledge have no comparison in substance to these three things (despite what Quixote may suggest), at least not when they are considered apart from them.
Here’s the bottom line. I’m not convinced that education gets people out of real poverty, even if it does give them a higher-paying job and the sense to not get into trouble with the law.
That was a huge digression. Back to Mr. Barnes. He was a brilliant speaker. He reminded me of my Latin teacher from high school, Mr. Kunz. They are both gruff and forceful, in a good way. They both speak softly, and then start yelling when they want to make a point. Yelling isn’t the right word. Bellowing? Hollering? No, roaring is probably more appropriate. Reggie has a way of commanding the room’s attention with the volume and intonation of his voice. He’s also very articulate. Speaking loud and fast keeps an audience on their toes and makes the slower, emphasized phrases all the more dramatic. If Mr. Barnes, or Mr. Kunz, told me to vote for him in the next presidential race, I would probably nod my head Yes as a knee-jerk reaction to his oratorical power.
His speech was mostly a rolling list of things to do and not do when teaching at a school in the Delta. Afterward, the Select Seven had an interview with him, and he shared the story of his younger years during the Civil Rights Movement. Especially fascinating was the rage he experienced during high school. A lot of times we see or read a story of violence among teenagers and think that they must have something so fundamentally twisted about them, that their parents are evil or negligent, and that they will always be violent. Mr. Barnes’s story goes against those assumptions. He said that he became a fighter and joined a gang for a few years in high school after Dr. King was assassinated, and he does not know why precisely. And then, he stopped. He saw the damage he could do and he turned away. What was it that did it for him? Did he see something different in one of his teachers? Was it a cultural influence? Or was it simply the unexplainable grace of God?
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