What does it mean to believe that the stories we tell to our children have value to our academic communities?

What does it mean to stand in that truth despite in the face of multiple submissions, multiple revisions, multiple rejections, and finally an acceptance, a publication, and a piece in the world that reflects pieces of our hearts?

We (Cat, Ruchi, Judy & I) started this journey many years ago. My daughter was in her 3rd year of life when I first wrote my letter to her. She is now approaching 8. 5 years is a long time, but the words of my letter are still true. They are excerpted in the article, and they have changed slightly over the course of our writings, but I share here the full text of a version of my letter to my children, the wisdom of which I hold true, that words are powerful, that our humanity is powerful, that our love and the co-creation of a better world is powerful and possible.

So grateful to my sister-scholar, co-author, collaborator, friends. So grateful to journey together. So grateful for your belief in us, our words, our letters, our children, our hearts.

Betina’s Letter: 

My dear children,

This morning on the car ride to school, N and I were talking about how much I work and how sometimes he wishes I would work less so that he could have his mommy.  I know you have all felt this way, even J, in her short three years of life.  So, I am writing this letter to explain why: why I do the work I do, what I hope from that work, how that work is an extension of my love for each one of you and how I hope that, one day, we’ll work to create a better world together.

Words are powerful things. I became an English teacher because I saw the power of words and stories. With words, we can tell our stories and see shared humanity through others’ stories.  I see the way that labels have been used against you; used to separate you from others; used to assume placement or assign privilege.  I have seen how the ways you read, write, speak and listen lead others to believe things about your worth.  I know literacies represent power.  I want the future teachers I work with to understand that power. I want them to think about whose voice is missing. I hear your voices but, so often, voices like yours are silent and silenced in classrooms.

Growing up, I hesitated to use my voice. I was “too loud” for my position as a Taiwanese American girl and simultaneously “too American” (for my family) but “never American enough” for my friends.  I knew little Mandarin and even less Taiwanese, and what I did know became lost in discourses of “English Only” and assimilation at school.  As I struggled to fit in with my (mostly white) peers, I lost my sense of self. I lost my words and any desire I had to be who I was.  Only through mothering and writing am I beginning to reclaim my voice and all that it represents, because I want you to see the power of your words, in English, in Mandarin, in Spanish (the native language of your father), as a citizen of this world.

As I’ve taught you the power of words; I also teach them the power of words. My teaching means I spend many late nights away.  I know this has hurt you and I’m so deeply sorry.  It has been hard for me as well.  But I must teach these new teachers because I remember entering urban school teaching at  22 years old, how much I still had to learn.  I know now (but didn’t know then) that almost all parents and educators are trying their best, even when their bests conflict, because educators’ perspectives are not always parents’ perspectives.  I teach them that traditional classrooms aren’t necessarily best; in fact, they work best only to reproduce societies that are inherently inequitable.  I teach them to see that each student brings assets to the classroom, and to honor student knowledge and experiences through relevant teaching curriculum.  I teach them that rigor and relevance aren’t mutually exclusive, and that both are critical to address inequities.  I challenge their thinking when they ask why some students don’t want to learn. I hate it when I hear that.  I don’t want you to be in a world where teachers think that some students don’t want to learn instead of looking at what they can do to support students right where they are.  I teach them to start with who students are, but to not ignore the standards that are often gatekeepers to their success. I help them understand that denying access to innovative curriculum because of their perceptions (or even realities) that students may not have internet in their homes isn’t a way to address challenges of 21st century learning. I push them to go beyond themselves because I know they hope to one day teach children, you, those like you, those different from you.

These children, like you, are my children too, and I feel a responsibility to them as I am responsible to you, as your mother. We are collectively responsible for one another although each of us develops as an individual.  I want you to understand our collective responsibility and I want future teachers to understand that.  I want to help build schools that work in a society that works better for everyone.  My role is supporting teachers in their work. It is an important role. It is an investment in the future, your future, and our future. I spend time away from you to make an impact on the identities of teachers who I know can be so powerful for students. I know because teachers have shaped your lives.

I am doing the best I can, as your mommy, as a teacher of teachers, as a human being. You are always with me, and I with you.  I am always thinking of you and the world I hope you will contribute to.  I love you and each of you has given my work real meaning. You are my hope and my light; you help me find my voice and use it to speak powerfully for justice and against misrepresentations of youth.   Each of you, and each child in the world, needs great teachers who can support you to grow into your best selves. So, when I am away, I am working for you, pushing towards hope. One day, I hope you, in your own ways, will also push towards greater understandings, using your words to push towards a hopeful future.  I hope this letter helps you in these days and those days.