Ms. Stovall 313

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News & Notes

The Invisible T-Shirt: A Narrative Lesson Plan
2018: The Year that Was
A Light Shines in Charlottesville: an Ode to Joe
What We Learn in High School–A Student Perspective
Tour Our Classroom! Room 313 in Pictures

Topics

America To Me (2)
Education (8)
Fulbright Award (10)
Gratitude (6)
Ideas for the Classroom (2)
Mexico (3)
NEH Grant (4)
New York City (1)
New Zealand (13)
Racial Equity (1)
Teaching (9)
Travel (9)

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Someone asked me in a Q&A recently how I kept my cool during some of the events in #AmericaToMe. As my closest friends know, I certainly in private had my vulnerable moments that were laced with anger and sadness. But I kept focused because I wrote down my purpose for being an educator on a little piece of paper, and whenever I would doubt others or myself, I’d read it and remember why I’m fighting this good fight. So in celebration of #womenshistorymonth and all the amazing educators out there making waking waves, let’s all remember our “why” for the work that we do and stand firmly in that purpose. Shout out to Jason for this amazing tee 😘.

Yesterday, was quite simply, a really difficult day for me. The students at OPRF have been one of the biggest lights of my life. I can’t tell you how much cup-runneth-over joy I felt to teach in Room 313. From jumping out of doorways to scare students or pushing the chairs out of the way to see the human in each other in peace circles, I loved teaching high school more than I have loved most things in my life. Even when the politics of teaching at OPRF became unbearable to my mental health, I didn’t want to leave this school with these amazing students even though I was about to embark on a lifetime dream of mine--getting a PhD. And so, I took a two year leave of absence, which would allow me to come back if I decided that teaching high school is my real calling. There was a part of me that knew no matter how much I was learning and growing at Stanford, I would always long to go back, a homesickness for teaching far more clingy than I can describe. Yesterday was the last day I could tell OPRF that I would return. Silence meant that I would resign officially in July. What does it mean to be silent when your students have inspired you to become the person you are today? I didn’t want to be silent, I wanted to say-- I have to pursue this new dream, but it is coming with such a sacrifice to have to say goodbye. And so, I read went through my old snaps and photos, laughing and crying through the daily highs and lows of being an educator (look in my stories to see some of them). And I paused at my “graduation.” Before I left, I threw myself a graduation from my 11 years of teaching (I skipped a grade). I got a yearbook and had people sign it. I rented out a bar and gave everyone little succulents that said, “you don’t suck--u leant me a hand when I needed you the most. Thank you for being the sunshine of my OPRF Days.” And that so much embodies why this is so painful--that I had amazing friends and students that were so much sunshine to me, even during those dark days. And so, I look back on this memory with a Sankofa mindset--looking back on my past so that I can go bravely into my new future. Thank you all, for inspiring my heart so much.

In my hometown, the average high in January is 23 degrees and the average low is 7 degrees. I knew the feeling of having the snot freeze in my nose, and how it feels to smile outside in metal braces (i.e. not good). And so, in my little 24 hour trip to Los Angeles to give a workshop on racial equity, I was thrilled to have a 76 degree beautiful warm day in January. It felt delicious. But soon, I noticed that everyone around me was in puffer jackets and giant scarfs. I asked a woman about it, and she raised her eyes at me, looking at me like *I* was the strange one because I was not bundled up. It’s just a little reminder that the contexts we come from really do impact the way we see the world—what is freezing to one is heaven to another. I’m working on learning about where people come from when trying to understand where they are.

Can we talk about how much harder it is to make friends when you’re older? . Grad school can be a lonely and sedentary life. Learning and scheming and interacting with young people all day has been replaced with sitting for hours on end in libraries with no human interaction. So @stanfordbgsa’s Black Ice is soul returning— celebrating the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr through a weekend wellness retreat in Lake Tahoe with Stanford’s Black graduate students is just what I needed (shout out to House orange!). I walked away with new friends, new desires to analyze MLK’s later works, and new hope for the future. The world better get ready for these amazing students about to graduate! . #blackatstanford #chocolatecardinal #stanfordbgsa

I finally had some time to see the Jordan Casteel exhibition at the Cantor Arts Center (it’s amazing! If you’re in the Bay, it’s free). One placard discussed that words on clothing help communicate a portrait sitter’s personality. Casteel states that, “I think that’s a very powerful statement, to wear it on your chest like a shield.” I especially liked this t-shirt which reads, “I am not interested in competing with anyone. I hope we all make it.” The t-shirt captures my thoughts the last few months as I apply for the same fellowships, same jobs, and same attention from professors. It is weird to feel like I must “compete” against people who are friends. It’s also weird that some people are unkind when you try to get guidance because of this “competition.” This all feels icky. I’m okay with missing out sometimes because that means that someone else deserving got it. As the shield in the portrait states, I truly hope we all make it. 📷: @danrpimentel

After living in Chicago for more than a decade, I get weighted blanket homesick for the city when I visit. It holds so many beloved people, experiences, and things to eat. Unlike many Midwesterners who often gripe about the winter, grumbling that they’d had enough and want to move to California, I’ve never really wanted to move to a warmer climate. I love the grittiness of the winters and the ineffable feeling you get on that first day is spring. I love having four seasons of clothes and being tough to weather but kind to humans. And you can fight me, but nothing beats a Chicago summer. So it was hard moving to California for school, where people look at you strangely when you say hi and complain to high heaven when it goes below 50 degrees. . Change is hard, but I have to remember how important it is. I started this decade so depressed my hair was falling out, and I’m ended it feeling like a boss getting my doctorate at Stanford. So I just have to remember to be kind and soak up every second of these fleeting visits to see friends. It’s the concept of Sankofa: it’s necessary to miss and reflect on the experiences of your life that made you who you are, but you also have to still look forward bravely toward your new horizons. May we all stay grateful for the pasts that guided us here as we go boldly into 2020. . Happy New Year, loves!

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Views expressed on this site are my own and do not represent the Fulbright program or the Department of State.

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