A Reflection on Highlander

While I find myself back in Texas, a large part of my heart and mind are still back at Highlander, reminiscing about the moments there - moments with people, moments with place, moments with myself even.

I continue to think about the impact of this place, and the amazing work of the people who preceded me there. As I told my students today that Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks and Paolo Freire had been to Highlander, I was blown away to think that I was now on a list of such powerful change agents, and I felt humbled by that recognition. 

I continue to think about the land, and the richness that surrounded us. I'm a big believer in the power of nature and place, and it was easy to feel like the land and hills were taking care of us in that space, providing ample motivation and inspiration for the work we were doing. 

More than anything, I continue to think about what my charge is now. During my moments of solitude, I spent a lot of time at Highlander thinking about the motivation for the work of Llano Grande and what it means to engage students in the way that we do. And the guiding force I kept coming back to was love: love for the place that raised me, love for my family, love for all of those teachers - both in the classroom and in the community - who mentored me. Each of them acted from a place of great love, whether it was understood or not. And now I feel like my charge is to do the same - to teach and guide with love for these students.  

For someone whose goal it is to teach in this way, though, it can be hard to do that in today's classrooms. Having witnessed and worked in schools over the past decade, I have seen how have these spaces - which are essentially community spaces - have lost their capacity for love. Students have become statistics. Teachers have become task masters. And tests have become like the lottery, with principals anxiously awaiting the lucky numbers to roll in. Most of the time, they don't. 

I remember when teachers used to be recognized for the meaningful impact that they had on students' lives. Nowadays, teachers are only acknowledged - and only minimally at that - if they can raise test scores. When teachers' jobs are held hostage at the mercy of test scores, there is no more room for love. 

I want to teach students how powerful they are. I want to show them how rich their history is. I want to show them that adults respect - and are amazed - by the work that they can do. I want to show them how cool their hometown is. I want them to see all of the greatness within them and around them. I think this is the way that classrooms should be. These are my goals - this is my charge.

I saw all of this when I was at Highlander. The space we had gave us the love we needed to engage in storytelling, in listening and in learning, and it was beautiful. I model my classroom after such a space, because that space was full of love.