Category: Unit 1 (Page 2 of 22)

The thought of sitting in class pen to paper has always been a very difficult task, never because I did not want to write because I love writing. Writing has always been my way of finding myself when music was not around. In school it was always the fact that I always seemed to write about things that did not interest me or I did not like. I would have to write essays on things that was considered as important just because I live in America. Write paragraphs on why I used a certain strategy in math. Write things that I did not really care about, not because I don’t care about the history but because it was a history that many individuals changed throughout the years or even try to leave out.I was trapped in a endless cycle of misinformation from learning that Christopher Columbus founded america to learning that we live on stolen land, but as of today we still celebrate Christopher Columbus for “finding the land”. It was all so confusing and at them did not make sense. As they teach slavery, and teach segregation, and teach the struggles we sell walk around seeing confederate flags , statues, and etc. Then we learn about Y=Mx+B and as of today have yet to use such an equation. As I grow older school has always been something in which I was told one thing to be misguided in the future, and that has always been something in which puzzled me. As a result I have learned that I have stories in which I wanna share, stories in which I hope people can relate to but in high school I always felt as if school was something forced, and made to misguide you in the future.

They told me to wake up prepared to learn. As I scrambled out of bed , into the shower, into clothes that was uncomfortable, skipping breakfast , and onto a bus.It was an experience in which I repeated for years.As I walked into a building sleepy from the day before due to family issues, and work that they wanted me to do. As of today I always thought learning was something in which they wanted the people who they taught to be interested in, or found away for the students to be interested in. Maybe I got the wrong memo because the more I hoped for high school to end the more I went falling in the lines between meet, and did not meet, but even then I still felt as if even though they told me I had met the the expectations set aside in the end I had no clue on what I really did or how I did it. Instead I searched the walls , and books for guidance because what I did not learn or what did not interest me was something that ended up being up to me to complete or even try to understand.

As I sat in silence hearing the screeching of the marker tracing the board I looked out the window hoping that maybe just maybe I would be able to see more than I was given.

It was a chilly afternoon of my freshman year. As the sun began to disappear into the clouds, and as we lined up waiting to enter into a building in which i called my school, I traveled the halls of the familiar faces, and wish that I could just disappear. My mom turned the corner as they filled her hands with information about me, they gave her my report card, and things like that. In which I always thought was weird being that they are giving out “my information, without me even giving them any information to begin with. As we roamed the halls going in and out the classroom conferencing with different teachers about my behavior in school, and my grades.So far all the teachers had great things to say like I was “on task” and “quiet” being that it was my 1st year in high school, and I did not know anyone.Soon after we roamed the hall walking into individuals who were happy with their children and others who were not, I strolled the hall along side with my mother hearing the laughs, and hearing the yells of parents looking in the eyes of their child, I was stuck in the in between. My mom was not happy nor mad , but instead chill. It was something I expected with my mother where she would just remain calm and neutral until she finished with the whole parent teacher conference.

We soon reached the door of my algebra teacher I was introduced into an array of disappointment. She was such a disappointment in my eyes. As a teacher she believed that student are supposed to understand the things she teaches right away, and that’s not me. She and I clashed a lot due to are different views. As my mom reached the door I locked eyes with the teacher in which I knew was gonna give me the most trouble. She said things in which I couldn’t even believe for my self as my mom nodded intrigued with all of the “new things” that she told her.She said things like ” Your daughter has a hard time listening”, “She does not pay attention to what I am telling her”, “She always has something to say”, “I constantly have to repeat myself to Daziah”, “Daziah has a hard time staying on task, she always is talking to her friends or partner”. She would say things in which she saw but never cared to ask. I mean she said I was having a hard time without even asking why, and the answer always remained the same I just did not understand, ill listen, and listen, and ask questions but in the end I was still left with that feeling of being lost in a room without a real guide to help me follow through with what I needed to be done. As my mom sat their in disappointment , she gave me a chance to explain myself. There was so much I wanted to say in such a short amount of time. I wanted to yell scream even. Tell her how I personally believed that she was a horrible person, teacher even. I even wanted to tell her how she was so busy worried about getting money instead of doing her job. She did not care, and she was one of those individuals who around others was such a “loving”, and “caring” person but around people who was not considered as authority in her eyes was someone who she believed that she can walk all over. Hate was a strong word but her actions proved to me that hate is something I should feel, but in the end who am I to go against, an adult. Things would go badly on my part regardless if I spoke or not because she taught me to never ever raise my voice or talk back to an adult, and I guess that was because of the Caribbean in us.She as of today has been the reason to why I the despise math, being that when I needed her for help she refused me , and left me to fend for myself in a world where math was something that they told me that I needed, but never really felt as if I needed as much as they claimed.

A Short Reviewers Memo

My intentions in writing this piece was to share a experience in which has stuck with me for years and changed my view on teachers, and math. When writing this I did not really have any hopes but I guess I kind of wondered if there has been others who had faced a teacher or teachers in which tried to prove so hard that they knew who we was as a person without actually knowing anything. I guess I want people to take away from this is maybe that maybe it would be better to stick up for yourself. I think I am having most trouble with giving more imagery , having the readers get a sense of how I look the room look, my mothers expressions, and things like that.Also I know my grammar is probably terrible. I guess I need help with the things that I have listed above. When reading this can y’all highlight the parts that confuse you. Maybe the things that y’all do not understand or want to hear more of.

-Thank you for your time and patience
Daziah Rowe

Throughout my school years I had kept to myself. I was also a quiet and reserved child and I never spoke out of turn. It wasn’t until one instance that I did, and it changed me for the better. Without that one instance I wouldn’t be where I am today. 

I was never a problematic child. In school I was shy. I never spoke back to teachers and just let them talk to me however they pleased. It stayed like this until my second year in middle school. My school was sorting out schedules which resulted in me being transferred into a new class. I was transferred three weeks late into the school year so everyone had already gotten their assigned seats and teachers had already started giving assignments. I walked into what would be my science and homeroom for the rest of the year. The classroom had 3 rows of medium sized desks, each with two students seated at one desk. There was a large chalkboard in front of the class with disney magnets and photos on it, as well as a long tall black table with two sinks at each end. When I walked in I introduced myself to the teacher and told her I had just been transferred into her class. I asked her where I should sit and she didn’t answer. She then proceeded to raise her voice and say, “What are you doing, go to the back and sit”. I didn’t think much about it at first. I figured that I must have just interrupted her lesson and she had gotten annoyed by it. As the school year progressed I noticed that the teachers behavior towards me had just gotten worse. She was constantly making degrading comments towards me. When I struggled with work she would call me up to the board to answer questions, and when I couldn’t do it she would make sly remarks at me. She had even begun to stop by my other classes just to tell my teachers how bad of a student I was in front of my class and I. However, what stuck with me most is that whenever I spoke in spanish she would question me and try to get me to say what I had said out loud and in english. As a young girl I was still shy to mention my period around others. I was still under the impression that periods were taboo. Therefore if I needed a menstrual product I would ask a friend in spanish. One time during class We were in the middle of work and I needed a pad so I proceeded to ask my friend in spanish if she had one. My teacher then proceeded to say, “Michelle, is there anything you want to say out loud instead of just to your friend” I proceeded to tell her no but she kept insisting and I said I was just asking her for a pad. After class she continued to ask my friend “what did Michelle really tell you”. I remember hearing that and feeling so disrespected and devastated. This behavior went on for the rest of the school year. I nearly failed her class because of it. 

However, despite being a quiet child, I realized that there were students who were louder than me, yet she allowed it. I noticed there would be students talking and being disrespectful, yet she allowed it. It made me think, what was so different? What separated me, and those other kids? And then I realized the only difference was our race. As a mexican american I was categorized as a trouble maker. Yet the white kids were able to go and do as they pleased. I didn’t understand why. A majority of my friends in middle school were hisapnic as well. While talking to them I realized that they were dealing with similar issues regarding the same teacher. One of my friends had stated that on the first day of school she told him, “Oh I already know i’m not going to like you. You’re a troublemaker” I was baffled when I heard this. How could this teacher treat all the minorities so poorly? As the school year progressed I began to grow tired of her behavior. I thought it was unfair for her to let other students slide yet she was so strict with the minorities. I began to become vocal, If she would say something diminishing I would defend myself. This didn’t help my grade in her class but I was so fed up with the treatment I had been putting up with. Then one day I remember getting into an argument with her. I don’t remember what it was about, or what caused it. But I do remember shouting at her. She proceeded to call my school’s vice principal who then escorted me out of the room. As soon as I left the room I broke down crying. I began hyperventilating, and realized I was having a panic attack. I realized that this was all the frustration I had been holding all year. When the vice principal helped calm me down I proceeded to tell her what happened. I told her about the way she had been mistreating and humiliating me throughout the whole school year. Despite being in shock I was also proud. This was the first time I had ever stood up for myself against an adult. This one incident helped kickstart my career in activism and student rights. After telling the vice principal about what happened I was sent back to class with no punishment being done. My science teacher was furious to see me walk back in as if nothing happened. Upon coming home I had explained to my parents what was happening and they arranged a meeting with the principal, vice principal, dean, and teacher. The meeting was rescheduled several times because the teacher refused to meet with my parents. However after getting tired of waiting my parents dropped in unannounced and demanded they had the meeting. The teacher had to be forced to meet with them. I was sent out of the room because of how poorly the teacher spoke of me. Despite being a few rooms away I could still hear her remarks. She was yelling at my parents saying I was a horrible student. She stated I never did any work in her class and that I was the most disrespectful student she had ever met. These remarks just went on and on. My parents were furious. My dad started yelling at her as well, asking how she can start a fight with a thirteen year old. He also said that if I was so disrespectful why was she the first teacher to ever complain, because throughout the year all my other teachers loved and praised me. She then proceeded to call me sneaky and say I was a liar. Never had I heard a teacher say all this about me. I began to cry. It was stressful and painful to hear her say all that when I knew it wasn’t true. My school’s principal came to see me in the other room to check in on me. She had started helping me throughout my issues with the teacher. The teacher was then sent out of the room because of how disrespectful she was being towards my parents and I was invited back into the room. They had all agreed that the teacher was not allowed to stay in the same room as me. After this meeting I had spent my homeroom and science class in the principal office where I would help her organize or do work for my other classes. It stayed like this for the remainder of the year and as well as my last year when she would occasionally be a substitute.  

 Despite me having a hard time in middle school I’m grateful to have lived through it. My experience in middle school helped me grow and mature. This made me want to help other students in similar situations. Without my experience in middle school I would probably still be that shy frail girl. To whoever may read this; You have the right to stand up to what you believe is right. It’s okay to speak up against an adult if you feel they are trying to make you less than you really are.