Friday, July 15, 2016

Pointing out the Issue: White Privilege and Institutional Racsim

Written by: David A. DeRose

Given historical and contemporary events, I would like to state my position on equity in this country. To understand my perspective, I find it important to explain my process that has brought me to this point – as this work is a process not a political stance. I am, above all an educator. I am tasked with educating the next generation of leaders, adults, and contributors to society. Although I no longer teach, I am forever dedicated to the work of education. I have participated in workshops on equity, interviewed close friends on the role race has played in their lives (and in their kids lives), and am currently in a program where I seek to end inequities in education. I’d be happy to share articles on race, class, and representation; authors include Kenneth Howe, Paul Gorski, Tara J. Yosso, Carolyn M. Shields, Beverly Daniel Tatum, and many others. If specific articles are desired, please do not hesitate to ask.

I have read a multitude of research on how race, socioeconomic status, and geographic placement impact academic success. I have taught and worked in vastly different schools. I have listened to emotional performances from underrepresented populations. I grew up idolizing people who did not look like me. I ran a multicultural fair during my undergrad in Nebraska. Long story short, I have made a life out of seeking out perspectives different than mine.

Through experiences, conversations, and research I have concluded unequivocally that white privilege and institutional racism exist. Although there has been much progress since the Civil Rights Act in 1964 –the 13th Amendment (1865), the work of W.E.B Dubois (1868-1963), Malcolm X (1925-1965), and Marcus Garvey (1887-1940)– we still have a long way to go. In my opinion, victim blaming is the most important area we need to address. It is easy to blame students success on their circumstances but it is much harder to learn about their specific individual obstacles and attempt to address them: transportation, work schedules, child care among many. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (2009) speaks of single stories in her Ted Talks. We must move away from this idea of the single story and actively learn the specific circumstances that people face daily prior to passing judgment in order to properly address and correct them.


Lastly, I am a white, male, able bodied, Christian, heterosexual male. I belong to every dominant cultural group. I believe whole-heartedly that these issues will be resolved only when people like me address and remedy them.  It is not a “minority” issue. Those who belong to the dominant culture need to recognize their part and work against the systems that currently exist to ever have any dream of remedying them.

Sunday, June 5, 2016

Home

Home

Written by: David DeRose  

A feeling that is marrow deep
Desire that fuels hope 
Neither a place or destination
Instead, a place of being
A found meaning
A challenge accepted
Service worth devoting
A message worth delivering
Adversity and doubt counted but found unsubstantial
Soul meets discussion and action
Identity displayed freely
Hope and change no longer cliché
Rather, action and execution
Potential regarded boundless
A goal achieved
A need met
Lives changed
Home


Picture taken 2015 by David DeRose

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Mom

Mom

Written by: David A. DeRose


Strong yet gentle
Fierce as a grizzly bear yet cuddly as a teddy bear
Powerful yet tender
Advisor and punisher
Builder of spirits and breaker of strong will
Transporter and teacher
Detective and restorer
A shoulder to cry on and an honest word when needed
Full time worrier
Moral compass
Adapter to the many seasons of childhood
Life giver 
Mom

Friday, May 8, 2015

Park Bench

Park Bench

Written by: David A. DeRose


Three old ladies sit on a park bench. Their crackled faces form smiles, sincere and reassuring. The sun warms their pale, freckled, vascular flesh. They watch as toddlers, a boy and a girl, bobble in the thick green grass. Watching, they discuss old times, families, and get caught up on grandchildren. Their seasoned vocal chords make melodies that sit atop the breeze like music.
Their gaze moves from each other to survey they park. The boy, in his coveralls and light blue shirt, is carefully observing the grass around him—chubby arms raised like a football referee. The girl’s blonde hair glows in the sunlight as she bounces and twirls, making her flower dress catch the wind and flutter freely. Her arms spread wide to catch every bit of balance she can. In an instant, she loses her hold on gravity and falls gently on her backside.
Just to the left, the boy squats, and is clearly investigating something closely. The old ladies can’t see what it is as the boy’s back is facing them. He points and reaches down with his chubby hand. He plucks something from the ground and stands up with it, holding it with both hands. The girl, just getting up from her tumble, turns to the boy just in time. He offers her a dandelion. His posture: regal. The girl’s hands go to both of her cheeks before accepting the yellow blossom.
The old lady on the left clasps her hands together, rubbing one thumb down the middle of her palm, and cracks a shy smile. The old lady in the middle taps her hand on her bosom, tilting her head slightly to the left sighing softly. The old lady on the right claps her hands together—jewelry rattling—and exclaims, “Oh, what a gentleman!”
Beauty is transitory moments that are as sweet as they are fleeting. These old women, with their untold wisdom and keen awareness of their own mortality, watch the two youngsters investigating the world with innocent eyes. The women’s moment is equally as beautiful as the children’s frolicking. This is life’s beautiful balance; young and old. Perspectives, in endless juxtaposition, deliver timeless transcendent splendor.




Saturday, February 21, 2015

River Reborn

River Reborn

Written by: Dave DeRose


Dry, desolate, desert
Winds whips pebbles and tosses tumble weeds
Abandoned, desiring, yearning
Mouth open wide with chapped lips
Face pointed to the heavens praying
Arms spread wide, circling in anticipation
Tung dances like a kid’s hand reaching for the cookie jar
Where is my drop?
When is it coming?
 

***


Then the deluge
Rain saturates every pore
Soaking skin like a dry sponge
I stand there
My spiral slows
Mouth filling up with water
Hands taking their rightful place near my heart
 

***


Thankful, I lay down in the moist soil
Prayers have been answered
Unknown made known
I am revitalized
Cool fat raindrops pelt my face
Head laid back into soft wet earth
Thoughts of thankfulness overcome
The moisture settles me into my place on this earth