Reflecting on My Culture continued...

Being an African American woman who is an educator, I feel an awesome sense of responsibility. I am one of the few African American teachers in a school that is predominately impoverished African Americans. I must constantly be aware of the way I present myself to my students. I try my hardest to lead by example and to teach them that they way they are raised does not have to define them. I want them to know that they can accomplish anything they set their minds too. They can be who they want to be and do what they want to do once they leave high school I have been told by former students that I inspired them to do positive things in their lives. That to me makes being an educator worth every single struggle that I've encountered.

Further Reflection on My Culture

I teach in a Title I school high school. The majority of my students are African American. I find myself frustrated a lot of the time because of the attitudes that these students have towards education. Because my parents stressed to me the importance of education on a daily basis, it amazes me how unmotivated my students are. It is sad to say that the majority of my students fit the stereotype of the "ghetto black person". I find myself constantly trying to get through to them the importance of getting their high school diplomas. They seem to all think they will be famous rappers, professional basketball players, etc. Whatever is the easiest way to get rich is the route they will take even if it involves illegal activity. It saddens me that these students represent my race. They do not however, represent my culture. It is possible to have many cultures within a race. Unfortunately, many people stereotype all people of a race into one broad category and the educated members of a race are the ones who suffer because of it.

A Reflection On My Culture

I remember vividly the day I realized I was black. I was nine years old. From the time I was born until I was nine, my family lived in an area that was predominantly white. For some reason I never realized that I was different. I was never treated differently by anyone and the thought never crossed my mind. At the age of nine, my parents divorced and I moved with my mother to an area that was predominantly black. I remember the moment like it was yesterday. I came home from my first day at my new school and I said, "Mom, there are so many black people at my school." She looked at me with amazement and said, "honey, you are black too." I remember feeling like I finally "got it" even though I had no idea what "it" was. At this point I became interested about learning everything there was to know about my culture and my heritage.

Growing up, we moved a lot. I was constantly changing schools and was able to become a "chameleon" wherever I was. I had both white and black friends. I enjoyed spending time with people of all races. I never dealt with racism during my youth. My parents taught my brother and I to respect all people and that differences were okay. While we were never wealthy, we were certainly middle class. We were taught that some people had to deal with hardships but that you can always rise above them with a good education. Getting the most from our education was mandatory in my house. I appreciate all my parents did to instill in me the importance of accepting diversity.