DEI and the Teaching of American Literature

For the record, as a lit/comp teacher, I integrate writing from all racial/cultural lines possible within a given unit. For example, for the founding documents section, we not only look at the Declaration, Constitution, and Bill of Rights, we also read selections from Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl so students can see how the US failed to actually implement life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness promises to those who weren't white, male, or land owners. 

In our unit on the Individual and Society, we examine writing from Booker T. Washington, Emily Dickenson, T.S. Eliot, and Walt Whitman, along with an extended study of American Born Chinese (the graphic novel). 

In our unit on Power, Protest, and Change, we look at the literature that confronted inequity and led to changing status and rights for women, workers, and African-Americans. This includes works by Frederick Douglas, Sojourner Truth, Abraham Lincoln, Langston Hughes, Upton Sinclair, and an extended study of Kate Chopin's The Awakening.

In our unit on the importance of setting, I give my students a choice of Gatsby, Their Eyes Were Watching God, or Huck Finn (with parental approval), along with a few short selections including Judith Ortiz Cofer. 

In our unit on what America fears, in addition to The Crucible (and studying the Red Scare and McCarthyism alongside it), we also cover "The Masque of the Red Death" and how even in Poe's day, the rich set themselves aside in a place of safety, leaving the rest of society to suffer. 

In our final unit, we study and write short stories, including those from Alice Walker, Hemingway, Poe, Louise Erdich, Bierce, and Raymond Carver. 

Finally, the students are allowed to read a book of their choice, as long as it is written by an American author, and relate how the ideals and characteristics of American society and history are reflected in it (fights for freedom, equality, liberty, etc.)

Even with all this integration, I still feel it's important to set aside time as a nation to celebrate those who have been historically forgotten, abused, or even are currently being maligned. 

American literature and American history is the story of a baby country being born and still growing. Hopefully, we can realize that we aren't an adult country yet, but still a growing adolescent and learn that we are still trying to become a land of the free, where all people are created equal and have equal access (not just equal freedom) to the unalienable rights promised on our birth certificate.

And this is why I believe I've finally found myself as a Literature teacher and as a citizen.

Recommended Reading: C.S. Lewis and the Sex/Gender Distinction

by Billie Hoard

A Paper Presented at the 2024 Undiscovered C.S. Lewis Conference

Beyond Perelandra, in 1948 when Lewis first published Priestesses in the Church?17 which ends with Lewis contrasting the roles of men and women within the church to their roles in society, he concluded “With the Church, we are farther in18: for there we are dealing with male and female not merely as facts of nature but as the live and awful shadows of realities utterly beyond our control and largely beyond our direct knowledge. Or rather, we are not dealing with them but (as we shall soon learn if we meddle) they are dealing with us. [emphasis mine]”19. And of course this was written only three years after Lewis had published That Hideous Strength which, if anything, supports and expands this concept of gender as more fundamental, more real, than sex—the thing towards which sex points.As Mary Steward Van Leeuwen puts it: 

“The younger Lewis, … argued on behalf of including gender forms, or archetypes, to which women and men were called to conform themselves. ‘Suppose,’ Jane Studdock in That Hideous Strength wondered, just after her conversion,  “Suppose one were a thing after all … designed by Someone Else and valued for qualities quite different from what one had regarded as one’s true self?”20.

Neither does Lewis’s approach to sex and gender here seem to have been even a notable departure from the thought of his peers. In The Silmarillion Tolkien comments that

[T]he Valar may walk, if they will, unclad, and then even the Eldar cannot clearly perceive them, though they be present. But when they desire to clothe themselves the Valar take upon them forms some as of male and some as of female; for that difference of temper they had even from their beginning, and it is but bodied forth in the choice of each, not made by the choice, even as with us male and female may be shown by the raiment but is not made thereby."

Here again, we see the idea of gender as a quality of spirit/soul which determines the Valar’s sex when they elect to take a body. Meanwhile Charles Williams’s whole concept of approaching God through the ways of negation and affirmation of images (corresponding roughly to apophatic and cataphatic theology)21 certainly points in a similar direction, being grounded in the idea that we can (imperfectly) use the physical world to gain some degree of understanding about the spiritual, by which it is caused. And of course Barfield’s “Great War” with Lewis over the role of imagination as a mode of divining Truth22 situates Barfield as inclined to place more weight than Lewis on the legitimacy of gender as the unifying meaning of physical/biological sex. As he (arguing for the capacity of poetry to unveil Truth) argues in Poetic Diction 

“Mythology is the ghost of concrete meaning. Connections between discrete phenomena, connections which are now apprehended as metaphor, were once only perceived as immediate realities. As such the poet strives, by his own efforts, to see them, and to make others see them, again.”23

Finally, beginning at least as early as 1944 we have manifold evidence that Lewis held to what has been described (and not infrequently criticized) as an overly platonic or sometimes (mis)characterized as a “Cartesian dualist”24 view of reality, and that this platonist influence which understands the physical to be an outflowing of the spiritual, formed a critical part of his overall theology and metaphysics25 writing in the original version of the essay Transposition that:

“Our problem was that in what claims to be our spiritual life all the elements of our natural life recur: and, what is worse, it looks at first glance as if no other elements were present. We now see that if the spiritual is richer than the natural (as no one who believes in its existence would deny) then this is exactly what we should expect.”26

Read the full article: https://billieiswriting.substack.com/p/cs-lewis-and-the-sexgender-distinction

Public School for the Public, Not Your Personal Religious Teaching

As a person of faith myself, I agree with the idea of this. 

Public school is not the voice of the church, any church, nor should it be. If you want a religious education, send your kids to a religiously affiliated school. The public school is not the place to teach any religion other than ALL of them as they relate to history and literature in a third-person sort of way, not as a school practice. School is never a place to encourage, or promote religious practice, whether Christian, Islam, Hindu, Buddhism, Satanism, etc. 

Teach academics and life skills. 

Save the religious practice for home and church. 

And let's put our prayers in our prayer closets in private, not in public (as the Pharisees do). And schools already reserve a period of silence during which students may pray as they please, if they please.

Interpretation, not Infallible Truth

 This is what I try to explain to fellow believers. No denomination holds the corner on what's the "accurate" interpretation. There are too many years and too many individuals to not take other interpretations into account. This is why making laws based on any Bible doctrines can become dangerous. 

(And that's ignoring the fact that no religion is supposed to impact our laws more than any other according to the founding documents.)

Poetry Corner: I Am

 

In the hallway today I passed students,
Some afraid, others emboldened,
Once sung precious—In whose sight?—
All distracting themselves with trivialities.
“Did you hear about…?”
“Are you going to…?”
“Do we have practice…?
It kept them from noticing the dreams
Of existence, of acceptance,
Of being a part of the Grand Experiment,
Kicked along the dirty floors
As they scurried to class.

Driving to work today I watched the woman
Standing in the rain,
Holding the sign,
“Out of Work Please Help,” shivering, shimmering.
Mother, sister, daughter, aunt—perhaps
Saint, sinner, harlot, sacrifice,
Prophet, poet, priest, king—
Bosses watch clocks, and we can’t hesitate,
Not in the rain, nor in heavy traffic,
It’s easy to forget after all
When there’s a man with a sign
Two blocks closer to the office.

In my newsfeed today, opinion hurled like daggers,
“Not a woman”
“Biological male”
“Sports and bathrooms”
Rainbows and flags posted support
Allies brought hammers and words to build
A place to be secure, to exist,
To know who she is, was, will be, amen.
But the damage was done,
Hateful words have barbs
And even to pry them out
Leaves scars and bleeding.

I am not them.
But I am them.
I am he, she, they, all the pronouns.
They are always in me.
The him, the her, the them,
Flow like oxygen through my lungs,
Expressed outward in his, hers, theirs,
Collectively exhaled from my open mouth
To the ground below,
Picked up by some, ignored by others,
On the way to class, driving to work,
In the anonymity of virtual life.

I am that I am, one said.
Know that I am, said another.
I am too, I proclaimed.
To be one,
To be one another,
To be.

Sean Taylor © 2024

Visit my poetry.com site.

Poetry Corner: Punk Rock

 

They busted the windows on Wall Street today
Trash cans filled with garbage and old food made the first crack
And sent all the happy people in nice suits scurrying
For once thinking about something other than the numbers
That make them better at ignoring the rest of us.
They stepped over the banana peels and potato chip bags
The crushed soda cans that should have been recycled instead 
On their way to the exits, the only light they were
Suddenly focused on—But that kind of thing isn’t really my style. 

They’ll gather up a million men and women tomorrow
And put them in matching T-shirts that say “Not Going Back”
With rapidly practiced chants, call-backs to great leaders
Of yesterdays gone by, times we thought we had moved beyond
Times we assumed we had put behind us. I can join them
Of course I can. It’s the least—the very least, if I’m honest—
I can do, right behind merely sending money on my phone
While I stream Agatha All Along on Disney Plus. But
It still doesn’t quite feel like the thing I was created to do at this time.

They dyed their mohawks in rainbows and shoved the middle finger
Into the air while their fans screamed and moshed and bled
Showing camaraderie, empathy, solidarity the only way
They understood fully, with anger, with energy, with activity. 
And it felt amazing to jump, and yell,  and raise my fist, and shout obscenities 
At the powers, and yet… Even when they kissed—tongues and leather 
And lace and fingers and hair—Man on man, woman on woman, 
Man on woman, trans on trans, Trans on straight
Straight on till sunrise… It still was not enough. 

Yesterday I am a writer. Tomorrow I paint in words. Today
I have words or many colors, many spectrums that correspond 
To those that swirl in the sky, dance in the puddles, blur through smoke
“Vandalize” city walls with slogans: Trans rights are human rights.
Abortion is healthcare. Gay and proud. Black lives matter.
I have all these, and my keyboard has been selfish, complacent,
Too satisfied in my place of safety. But no more. 
I cannot break windows. My knees may give out on a march. 
My money can only go so far. My shouting can be drowned out by other music. 

But I can write. And by God, I will. We are not going back. 

(c) 2024 Sean Taylor

Visit my Poetry.com site.

Poetry Corner: When We Had No Flag

 

by Sean Taylor

When we had no flag 

There were only white sheets, hanging on clotheslines 

Flapping on windy days, 

Waving greetings like so many neighbors on so many dusty paths

White not for surrender 

But for sleeping, for rest because white was easy 

Easy to bleach our odors away, 

Dirt and sweat from one person's work, one man's labor, one woman's toil

One day we  painted bars deep red

Crimson with the blood of the people who lived here first 

But there wasn't enough

So we added more from the backs of the people we owned

And so we painted what was left blue

Blue with the bruises of our slaves and red with their stripes 

Even if we had to wrench the paint out of the whips after use, 

Twisting leather until our fingers too were as calloused as theirs

We found some white remained

But it was not for sleeping, not anymore; it was for the Virgin Innocent

Our children who would inherit a world 

Built on the paint dripped from the wounds of those we had  conquered

Perhaps it's time again

Wash day for the flag, with fresh bleach to clean away the red and blue

To allow the colors to surrender and fade

And once more flap greetings in the wind

Perhaps you, or me, 

or that woman over there, the one in all the colors of the rainbow

Or that vermin, that enemy, that animal,

Could be the bleach to get the job started

To speak the change we all should hear

Whistling in the wind

That blew when we had no flag

(c) 2024

Visit my poetry.com site.