Teachers on Sabbatical: Angie Leung

I love learning from and getting to know the twenty or so teachers in the sabbatical program at CSI. I have asked them to share their writing with me so I can post on this blog.

Here is an entry by Angie Leung who has been teaching ESL in District 20, Brooklyn for the past 16 years. 

F. Scott Fitzgerald has said, “It’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be.  I hope you live a life you’re proud of.  If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”

Indeed, I hope I have the strength to redefine myself.  I have gotten too used to being a teacher, a wife and mother.  I need to explore other parts of my identity.  I have not been a good friend or daughter by not reaching out to friends and my mother often enough.  I have not been a student for far too long.  That is why I am on this sabbatical, finding my student mindset as sailors find “their sea legs.”  

I hope to gain a different perspective by being in the classroom as a student this year.  If I can actually do one thing for the rest of my life, I would love to stay a student.  There’s too much to learn.  Confucius said, “To know what you know and what you do not know, that is true knowledge; Real knowledge is to know the extent of one's ignorance.”  I still feel quite ignorant and therefore wish to study much more.

I would like to learn more about writing children’s books and dream about becoming a writer someday.  I feel that there are never enough books to encourage boys to read more, especially since my son always has trouble finding books to read because he is a picky reader but not a picky eater.  I think boys would benefit from reading more books about humorous characters like Junie B. Jones.  There’s an Asian author named Lenore Look who wrote the “Ruby Lu,” and “Alvin Ho” series.  We read those when my son was in elementary school.  My son is now in his first year of high school, and I regret to say that he has stopped reading for pleasure ever since middle school.  He grew up with bedtime stories from Eric Carle and Dr. Seuss.

I would also like to explore my Chinese heritage more; visiting Hong Kong with a stopover in Shanghai last year really got me interested in finding a summer teaching job as an excuse to stay and explore China more.  

With all the culturally responsive classroom talk taking place at the moment, I still feel we don’t see enough Asian American authors being included.  There was one year of the ELA test for middle school where they had an excerpt from Millicent Min, Girl Genius by Lisa Yee.  That was one time of the 16 years of my teaching where an Asian American author has been included in literary texts in school.  That is one area where I would like to see an improvement in as en educator.  Some Asian authors I admire are Amy Tan, Maxine Hong Kingston, and Laurence Yep.There is all this talk about including the minority in this city and country.  The irony of it is that Chinese, and Asians in general, are rarely represented as minority.  In fact, they are reversely discriminated against when it comes to accepting minority into prestigious colleges.  It is  a known trend where even in pop culture - the movie “Bad Moms” has the young overachieving daughter say, “Mom, they are even turning away Asians at the Ivy League colleges.” In order to reverse these stereotypes, teachers need to include and represent Asian characters in the classroom.  Of course, it wouldn’t hurt for the teachers to become authors themselves, so I would like to start that endeavor during my sabbatical this year.

Tupac, Romeo, and The Hate U Give

Tupac Shakur was a man of many contradictions, a man who wrote songs with socially uplifting songs such as “Changes” and violent ones such as “Hit ‘em Up”. On the outside, he embraced the persona of the “thug life”, associating himself with gangs and guns, yet on the inside, he was a sensitive poet who wrote “Long live the rose that grew from concrete / when no one else ever cared.” He exploited and objectified women yet also loved and respected them; “Dear Mama” is a sweet ode to his mother, acknowledging that raising children on welfare was not easy and that he appreciates her, yet “Skandalouz” insults women, calling them “scandalous bitches”.

Nonetheless, he is a revered rapper, a person whose character has been immortalized by his music, persona, and by popular culture. In many ways, Tupac is a modern Shakespearean tragic hero. Like Romeo Montague, another intense, immortal male character who sexualized and objectified women, his life culminated in an “untimely death”. Tupac was murdered in 1996 and died at the age of 25. Both Tupac and Romeo were young men who enjoyed the company of their posses. Both were in love at the time of their deaths; Tupac was engaged, and Romeo was newly married to Juliet. Both committed crimes; Tupac was imprisoned for sexual assault and was involved in other violent incidents. Romeo, though resistant to fighting, eventually murdered Tybalt for killing his best friend. Both were also affected by their family’s circumstances and the unfair restrictions imposed by society. They could not escape their tragic fates.

I am a fan but not an expert on Tupac and have had a renewed interest in his life and music after reading and loving Angie Thomas’s debut novel The Hate U Give. The protagonist, Starr Carter, is a sixteen-year old young woman who is caught between conflicting worlds, one in which she and her loving family are proud residents of Garden Heights, a mostly poor, black neighborhood and Williamson, the private school she attends that is 45 minutes away and where she is one of a few black students. This causes her to have a dual life; she tries to hide her “ghetto” side with her friends at school and feels she cannot be herself with most of the students there, and in her own neighborhood, she often feels like an outsider. Early in the story, when Starr witnesses a police officer shooting and killing her childhood friend, Khalil, she tries to hide the truth about what happened from her private school peers. Over time, she learns to confront and speak out against the injustice of his death and becomes a spokesperson for her community. In the end, she admits: “I was ashamed of Garden Heights and everything in it. It seems stupid now though. I can’t change where I come from or what I’ve been through, so why should I be ashamed of what makes me, me? That’s like being ashamed of myself.” This is a lesson that can also be learned from Tupac who was not ashamed of himself and wrote honestly of his personal experiences and struggles as a black man; in “Me Against the World”, he wrote: “Can you picture my prophecy? / Stress in the city, the cops is on top of me / The projects is full of bullets, though bodies is droppin'.” This could be the themesong of The Hate U Give since so many characters such as Starr and Khalil live in low-income housing and witness regular shootings.    

Another important connection to Tupac is the title of the book. Khalil explained to Starr: “The Hate U - the letter U - Give Little Infants Fucks Everybody, T-H-U-G L-I-F-E. Meaning what society give us as youth, it bites them in the ass when we wild out.” This relates to an important theme in the text, that when certain groups, particularly black people living in low-income neighborhoods, are perceived as mere thugs and treated with disdain and disregard, all people living in these communities suffer. This is evident in American society today; in the last few years, scores of innocent, unarmed black men and women have been killed by police officers, leading to civil unrest and frustration over police tactics of racial profiling and use of excessive force.   

Khalil, like Tupac, was misunderstood; many saw him as a thug, stigmatizing him because he was selling drugs and was involved with gangs. But Starr helped people see his admirable qualities and the complicated elements of his life. Through her, we are reminded not to judge people based on stereotypes and that we cannot stay quiet when people like Khalil, Trayvon Martin, Freddie Gray, and Emmett Till are unjustly killed. As citizens of the United States, we should act, march, and peacefully fight for a safer society; as Tupac says, “it’s time for us a people to start makin’ some changes”.

"What does America stand for?"

Part I. The Quick Question of Identity

“Where are you from?”

Like most non-white people in America, I have been asked this question countless times since I was a young adult. The simple answer is: “I’m from Queens.” That is where I was born and raised, and typically people associate birthplace with their from-ness. But this apparently was the wrong answer.

“No. Where are you really from?”

“You mean, what neighborhood? I grew in Jamaica Estates.”

“No - are your Chinese or something?”

I quickly learned that when random people asked me that initial question, they wanted to know my ethnicity, what country I or are my parents are from. This made me realize that I seemed foreign to many people. I wasn’t seen as American because of my dark black hair and brown Asian eyes. Because of this reality, that non-whites in America, are not initially seen as American, I began to feel self-conscious in the place of my birth, my country of origin; this state of being has followed me into the middle age stage of my life.

Even though I grew up in an ethnically diverse neighborhood and have lived in the immigrant-built city of New York all my life, I have often found myself in states of collision and fission regarding my identity. With my family, there was a divide between my parents who emigrated from the Philippines and myself; their strict Catholic values collided with the American grunge ethos of the 90’s and my rebellious teen spirit. As I got older, I began to feel myself being split into different me’s. There was part of me that excelled in math and science and the part of me that loved writing poetry; the anak who loved sinigang and arroz caldo, especially the tripe in it and listened in Tagalog but could only speak English; the teen who turned pescavegetarian after seeing PETA pamphlets then had to stop eating tripe; the college student who dropped chemistry and became an English major; the young woman who got married on a small beach in Oyster Bay instead of in a church.

I could write several pages of all the pieces of me that sometimes fit together or clash with one another depending on the context. But what’s important is that over decades, I’ve learned that answering the question, “Where are you from?” is not easy. It requires years of inquiry, piles and files of literature, dialogue, flexibility, and open-mindedness. While I used to feel anger and frustration toward people who asked me this, I realize this question could open up dialogue and help this country become more inclusive and accepting of all.

“Where are you from?” is a question we should all explore in ourselves and others, that we should respect and appreciate that all people in this country have a rich cultural history to tell, and that all our stories matter. People need to stop thinking that to be American means to be white. America has many faces. We are all from many different parts of the world. This is something we should accept, respect, and value. From-ness is complex and consists of many places, generations, histories. Our nation is rich and unique because our from-ness is global.

Part II.

In the next few blog posts, I want to explore the question of identity through different texts I’ve recently read:

1. The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
2. Fresh off the Boat by Eddie Huang
3. Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi
4. American art at the Whitney Museum
5. An op-ed from the New York Times titled “What Does American Stand for?”

Community and Hypocrisy on Halloween

Pale monsters with blood dripping from mouths sway over doorsteps; skeleton bones lie on lawns with tombstones that read: Rest in Pieces. Cobwebs and oversized spiders creep up shrubs and fences; carved pumpkins rot on stoops. Ornate homes with crafty inhabitants create theatrical sets of hanging mummies and moaning zombie heads.

Neighborhoods come alive, rise from the redundancy of daily life. Business owners, homeowners, renters, workers and countless superheroes, fairy tale characters, slaying horror movie antagonists, food items, and animals greet, trick-or-treat, walk together in unity for candy, fun, community, and creativity. Wherever we are, we find commonality and practice generosity and inclusivity; all kids regardless of race, religion, gender, and class are given treats as long as they dress up and say trick-or-treat. In New York City, it is especially striking to see the city dwellers known for stern faces and rushing paces being friendly with one another, taking time to dress up and/or distribute candy to scores of children, walking slowly down streets and avenues, engaging in conversations with one another about costumes.

While Halloween is a festive day for all participants, there are many complex and clashing realities and tensions beneath the silly and surreal veneer. On this day, October 31, 2017, shortly after school-dismissal time, Sayfullo Saipov committed an act of terror by driving a rented truck into the Hudson Bike Path along West St. in downtown Manhattan, killing 8 people and injuring several others. This is the reality we acknowledged and mourned over as we put our costumes on and followed our children from door to door, relieved to be in the presence of others with slightly uplifted moods, relieved to see our children skipping gleefully from door to door, feeling sorrow for the victims and their loved ones who will suffer tremendously because of this tragedy. We are reminded of real horror stories and villains filled with hate who destroy lives.

Nonetheless, most of us continued with our celebrations because we had to or because we could. Our children needed us to accompany them on their coveted holiday. Our muses and alter egos needed to express themselves. We needed a break from routine, a chance to celebrate and play dress-up. This year, my daughter was Little Red Riding Hood, our dog was the wolf, my son Messi the soccer player, and I was Frida Kahlo. While our costumes weren’t related, they revealed some of our interests.

On this Halloween, I was relieved that no one I know was affected by the heinous act and felt guilty about it at the same time. Yet I found peace as I walked for blocks with friends and our children whose ebullient spirits were contagious. It was dizzying and exhausting to keep my children in sight as they quickly moved from door to door; during this time, I began to contemplate: How is Halloween relevant or important? How does it relate to current events, human nature, and family? What lessons can we learn?   

1. Embrace the spirit of unadulterated joy, the spirit of the children eager to fill their bags with candy. While it makes me uncomfortable as a parent to see my children become candy fiends, competing for the greatest number of candies, feasting on unhealthy morsels filled with corn syrup, titanium dioxide, and red dye 40, I realize the more important aspects are the limitless opportunities for free candy, to express our creative selves and identify with characters or other entities, to have fun with friends and family, to celebrate with fellow inhabitants of our communities. This is a reminder of the need for and possibility for fellowship among all. Jokers and Batmans can walk together. Hillaries and Trumps. Little Red Riding Hoods and Big Bad Wolves. However, we should not limit ourselves to groups or sides; this is part of society’s problem - people are pigeon-holed into false categories. We see ourselves as heroes or villains, superior or inferior, us or them, when instead, we should see ourselves as individuals of equal importance who deserve the same opportunities and respect, who must constantly improve our intellects and actions, think beyond our individual ideals and move toward bettering the world for all. No matter who we are, we all should be able to enjoy the candy and costume parties as long as we appreciate and respect one another. Aren’t these constitutional rights?

2. Temperance is difficult to attain. Most children become greedy goblins on Halloween. I reminded my children to make good choices and limit how many candies they ate to about three. My eight-year old son obliged. My pre-pubescent daughter indulged beyond that. Nonetheless, this is good practice for life: how to find a healthy balance between indulgence and temperance.

3. Lessons in mathematics. Candy is numbers. There are endless possibilities of word problems that can be differentiated for each candy hoarder. If Emerson has 217 candies and Jazzy has 239, how many more does Jazzy have? What is the distance we have walked in three hours? How many calories did we burn? How many stores gave out candy and how many did not? What is the average number of candies received in the group of children you trick-or-treated with?

4. Beware of the real monsters of greed, fear, selfishness, and narrow-mindedness that corrupt this country and threaten our communities. The real horrors are hypocrisies such as that of the President who tweeted the night of the attack that Saipov should receive the death penalty and that we need to “step up our already extreme vetting program”, using this moment to vilify Muslim immigrants while almost a month ago, when Stephen Paddock killed 58 people at a concert in Las Vegas, Trump tweeted that “we’re not going to talk about [gun laws]” and has failed to pass any legislation that would help protect Americans from mass shootings like this.

Zombies and ghosts cannot harm us, but politicians in power can. While it is fun to dress up as the undead, it is our responsibility not to be living zombies who want to eat brains. Instead we should try to further cultivate our brains, indulge in education, social consciousness, critical thinking, and true democratic ideals of power for all people. The government needs to do more to protect its inhabitants, especially our children. We need to fight ignorance by investing more in education, especially in impoverished and less privileged communities. We need to find more opportunities to come together regardless of our countries of origin or political affiliations.

What I love about Halloween in New York is seeing families of all ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds walking together through neighborhoods and interacting with one another, speaking different languages. It is a lively American tradition, a great outlet for angst and imagination, and a comforting relief from stress and disillusionment. Hopefully next year, there will be more to celebrate rather than mourn.