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STUDENTS RISE UP IN PORTLAND I first came across Students Rise Up on a rainy October day in , at one of the first of many peace rallies before the start of the war in Iraq the following March. Gathered with hundreds of people in Pioneer Courthouse Square in the center of Downtown Portland, SRU teens huddled under a huge banner that read, “Students Rise Up.” I approached one of them, Curt, a tall guy with long hair. I explained to him that I studied sociology and wanted to learn more about youth and social movements. He smiled and invited me to an SRU meeting before I even asked to attend. At that time, SRU meetings were open to the public and took place in an anarchist café on the east side of town. Curt emphasized to me that rather than sitting in the circle of SRU students during the meetings, I should sit outside and just observe. I took his cue, not quite familiar yet with the dynamics of the group. For two weeks I returned, and sat at the outer edges of the SRU circle. I pulled Curt aside and said, “Do you think I should just introduce myself to the group now?” He responded with a vehement, “No, just sit and observe—I’ll tell them who you are.” The third week I took my usual place on the outside of the circle but was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the group not yet knowing who I was. It was clear that for whatever reason, Curt had not yet told them why I was observing meetings. Students were beginning to stare at me and whisper to each other. I decided right then and there to forego Curt’s advice to just sit on the margins and decided to introduce myself at the end of the meeting, as awkward as it would be. It was a moment when I realized that my initial entrée tactic had gone very, very wrong and that Curt was probably not the most effective person to have facilitated my entrée into the group. As I waited for a good moment to introduce myself, Travis, a teen in a hat and a jean jacket studded with spikes, walked up to me during the meeting. He had been eyeing me throughout the meeting, and I was both relieved and alarmed that he was approaching me. At least this would give me a chance to explain why I was sitting there. He sat down next to me and whispered, “Excuse me, why are you here?” I told him what I was studying and about my interest in SRU. He responded sternly, “Well, a better way to do that is to just introduce yourself to us. ’Cause, see, we thought you were a cop.” There it was. I was grateful to him for his honesty, but the charge stung. 213 APPENDIX: ENTERING THE WORLDS OF YOUTH ACTIVISM Right after the meeting I got up and introduced myself to them and openly apologized for making anyone uncomfortable. Joni, a vocal girl organizer, invited me to sit in on the next meeting and let me know that I could put myself on their next agenda. Even though the gaffe felt somewhat repaired by the time I left the café, a few youth were still looking at me like I was pure evil. That night I scribbled in my notes, “This has to be the worst entrée ever in the history of participant-observer entrées.” The worst impression I could have made on these activists is that I was a cop. To me, this charge was particularly hard-hitting because I had spent the last two years active in the Portland Police Accountability Campaign. And yet I had managed to do it. I decided to start all over again, this time without a sponsor. I came back to the meeting the following week and put myself on the agenda. I then explained to the group why I was interested in youth activism, what I taught, what I studied, and why I felt it was important to learn more about youth movements. I asked them if they would allow me to sit in on their meetings. I told them that I would gladly leave the room while they talked about it, or would come back to a subsequent meeting. They had an open discussion in front of me about having a researcher join them in their meetings . After reiterating...

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