Butterfly kisses and consequences

Today in my Asian American Sexualities class, I had the students share their first writing assignment with each other in small groups, a 1-page paper entitled, "AAPI Sexualities are..." Their responses were many and varied, and that was the point. It's the first week of class and I'm trying to assess what they know and think coming in, and to show them each other's perspectives.

And to let them sit there in that ambiguity. I told them that I would rarely try to push our conversations toward convergence or agreement. I value the ability to entertain a thought without accepting it (Aristotle). Good thing I have a high tolerance for ambiguity.

At the end, one student remarked, "Well, there are no right or wrong answers." To which I replied, "True, but there are answers with consequences, and we'll be learning about how severe some of them can be."


Somewhere in the sharing, there was occasion to bring up the annual fertility festival in Japan (http://www.wordpress.tokyotimes.org/?p=2088) which I called the penis festival. They got a kick out of hearing about such a thing. But as I was driving home, I thought to myself, if it's a fertility festival, and couples go for good luck, why is the phallus the only symbol for fertility? I'll ask them next class. Shout out to my sistas in the Pukengkeng Liberation Front.

Immediacy

so my unwritten (until now) goal is to blog within the first few hours after class...to capture my reactions before they become reflections and resolutions. i met that with the last entry. reading it now, i see that i captured the incident that i need at the beginning of every semester that reminds me to adjust my expectations. i'm still flummoxed that no more than 2 or 3 students vaguely recognized the hooded prisoner. and i'm wondering if i could really appreciate what reagan meant since i was only in college at the time.

but on the point of whether a student can get it, well it only takes one to make me feel good. this is what made me feel good at the end of last semester:

"The International Hotel story was one that touched me greatly. I had never heard about the struggle that Filipino Americans faced. What was even more heart wrenching to me was it was not that long ago, in fact my parents were both alive at this time. What happened to the Filipino Americans living in the International Hotel at this time was monstrous and disgusting."

this excerpt, a response to a final exam question, reminded me why I teach Filipino American studies--and it's not about academics. the film, the Fall of the I-Hotel--as dated and slow-paced as it is (probably cuz I've seen it a dozen times)--is still worth showing. when i told the student how this made me feel, he thanked me for a class that taught him some truly valuable lessons.

~:'-)

Abu Ghraib has no meaning

OMG they did not recognize this image. It was only 6 years ago (Spring 2003)! Are they really so sheltered? So unaware? But okay, they were teenagers. Maybe their parents kept them from seeing the images from Abu Ghraib.

Still it makes me wonder how to teach the meaning of this and other events. I teach from a place of experience, of having events in the real world propel me to look for meaning. Of working with others to "sense-make", and in turn, to create change.

That's what I, and I'm sure other ethnic-studies professors, bring to teaching. And yet, what is this image to my students? I can express myself passionately, I can tell them the meaning, but will they feel it? Will they get it? Will it make them feel connected to other's suffering? Will it propel them to action, or at least to look for meaning, too? So what is the whole exercise of ethnic studies about, anyway?

Anyway, this isn't a soul-searching moment that I'm expressing. Just a reaction to my second day of class. I've got 38 students, though today only 23 showed up because of snow. I asked if anyone knew who Maj Gen Antonio Taguba is. As expected, not many knew. I pulled up this photo, thinking I would then make a point about how only parts of a story get embedded in the public psyche, and that we often forget really important people. But their psyche was empty. Al laa.

I got a similar shock when I first started teaching and no one could tell me what People Power was. It had meaning for me when it happened because I was a whitewashed 2nd year college student with a politically connected roommate. So even though I didn't really want to care, he kept the TV on the story and I, like many others, was gripped by the nuns kneeling in front of the tanks. It was one of my consciousness raising moments. But most of my students weren't even born yet. That really woke me up.

But 2003?!?!