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,* ( :BDI>DC:9GJA:HI6JCH8=DDA6C9 I=:E:GHJ6H>K:EDL:GD;G68>HB NOVEMBER AND DECEMBER There were times in Angelstown when I did fieldwork with people who seemed difficult and not very likeable. What was I to make of values and beliefs that seemed to run contrary to my own? It seemed to me that as long as I could summon a certain generosity , fieldwork could continue, but there were times when I came very close to stopping the pretense of generosity and walking away. I never took that walk, however, and now, at this writing moment, those same social scenes seem more illuminating than what I imagined back then. But I am left with this predicament: How does one textualize such encounters, such people? How do I render the density and subtlety of life lived if, as the observer, I felt that mostly nastiness and short-sightedness were to be found there? Call this my prejudice, but it seems to me that some of the most important human encounters are those that cause anxiety, even anger. At these moments, we encounter all those limitations that define us. Anxiety and anger may protect our most vulnerable places, but they also encourage us to root ourselves ever deeper inside limiting definitions that rationalize against that wilder stuff that calls to us from just beyond our narrow selves. —Ralph Cintron, Angels’ Town Throughout the autumn months at Laurel Canyons, I listened to the students talk about issues of race as they encountered them in texts. In between classes, during her planning period, Elizabeth and I sat in her quiet classroom and discussed the students’ progress. By late fall, we had glumly concluded that from an antiracist point of view, we were far from success. Indeed, the final drafts of the Advanced Writing students’ essays on Maya Angelou were not sympathetic to her claims about racism. At times they were openly hostile toward her. Reading through the essays during her planning period, Elizabeth said November was always the worst month: the enthusiasm that marked the 76 Emotioned Rules Taught in School beginning of the school year had waned, the weather was dark, and we were still months away from June. She had made copies of the essays for me, and we pulled two student desks together as we read, flipping through the pages and pointing out particular passages as we went. “Look at Teresa’s,” Elizabeth said, without looking up. “On page 2, second paragraph.” I read: “[The book] talked about lesbianism without discussing the immorality of it, which is wrong. She almost seems to be racist herself, but towards whites. . . . She thinks that all whites are unreal. She said white people’s feet were too small, their skin was see-through, and they walked on their heels, not on the balls of their feet. As we read this, we realize that she was just being silly and was not used to exposure around whites. Her point of view is very immature.” “Angelou is immature,” Elizabeth said. “That’s a good one.” She underlined it. “I’ll come back to this one. Any thoughts on how I should respond?” I shook my head. “You’re the teacher.” She laughed. We were both already skimming the next essay: The first time I read it, I did not want to read that she was a lesbian. On second reading, I noticed the mention of prejudice between white and black. It was not a two-sided hatred though. Maya did not hate whites, she simply did not understand them. . . . The reason for the book, however, was not to tell a poor black girl’s experience of being hated by the whites, but rather a story of a person just like any person, looking for acceptance. . . . The conclusion of the story was not about racism, though racism was mentioned quite a bit. It was about life going on. . . . Why does the caged bird sing? It is not (contrary to popular belief) to be annoying so it’s captors will set it free. It sings because it knows life goes on. I stopped reading and looked up at Elizabeth, ready to discuss. “Just keep going,” she said. “It gets better.” I flipped to Ashley’s, the next one in the stack: She puts herself on a higher level than the whites of this world and makes herself a victim, blaming everyone else for her problems. . . . Maya feels racial superiority...

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