Bus Reflections – June 17, 2015

Military style is how we think they learn. Sound a beep that plugs them into work like those sedatives used to restrain a “crazy” person. These kids are treated as if they were lampposts, only to be used for illuminating the way for the higher members of society.

I see the frustration in their eyes and with every moment they feel betrayed by the system. I’m just standing there telling them that I believe in them and they can do it, but that won’t be enough. I tell them and they’re momentarily defeated, but some of them want lift their heads high and say that they are NOT merely cogs in the system.

Fight for your lives, my little troopers. You mean the world to me.

My kids are exhausted like magnolias falling off of the tree.

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Bus Reflections – June 11, 2015

Culturally sound
Demographics
School to prison pipeline

Kids as criminals because they live in a white-male dominant society pushing them off of the corners of the college ruled paper that creates legal systems.

It’s insane to think that the very system that is supposed to educate us perpetuates systems of oppression. The system pushed kids out and the few honestly good teachers are insufficient to outrun the rate of isms.

We live in a society that connotates a humanitarian movement–feminism– as negative because of an ending associated with beating people down. How can we teach our children to analyze the world around them if in our instructional methods we make ignorance fact.

Be revolutionary and seep into an unfair system to destroy the foundations that place one group above the other. They can only keep you down if you don’t fight.

Bus Reflections – June 9, 2015

We all sit quietly on the bus. Today we worked, worked, and worked. I considered what my feelings meant– those of reservation and wont of solace. We’re in this beautiful place given so much power to bring forth the amazing values that the children of our nation hold dear.

Silence.

Sometimes I feel like the long piece of pink polyester, likely the remnant of an inflatable, tumbling through the highway streets. I call it the urban tumbleweed flailing its extremities uncertain how to contain all this new knowledge. Each second is a learning experience, a challenge I cannot give up on. We work for something beyond us. We work for them.