Voices - Vol 5

Best wishes to retiring faculty

Anonymous — Tue, 01 Nov 2022 18:05:54 +0000

Best wishes to retiring faculty Anonymous (not verified) Tue, 11/01/2022 - 12:05

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Giving Voices to Hidden Histories

Anonymous — Mon, 31 Oct 2022 22:30:41 +0000

Giving Voices to Hidden Histories Anonymous (not verified) Mon, 10/31/2022 - 16:30

Ichigo Takikawa

Growing up in Pueblo, Jason Romero (EthStu’13, MEdu’16) remembers hearing about the stories and struggles of Los Seis de Boulder, six Chicano activists and students killed in car bombings in 1974.

“I ended up coming to ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder because I had learned the story of Los Seis,” Romero said.

During his senior year at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder, he joined what was then known as the Boulder County Latino History Project as an intern videographer and joined community members to record oral histories of Boulder County families. There he interviewed Augustine Cordova, a Chicano who had attended ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder during the 1970s. Cordova recited to him the corrido of Los Seis de Boulder, a ballad he wrote about the bombings.

Romero had never heard about this ballad. The interview was an impactful moment during his internship and led him to continue working with the project after graduation, leading workshops for teachers in the summers. In 2020, he joined the project as the executive director and has continued to guide the work in the community and in schools.

Now, the newly renamed Chicano & Latino History Project, housed in ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder’s BUENO Center for Multicultural Education, partners with communities across ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ to gather, preserve and make available information about the history and culture of local people of color.

The project has evolved over the years—first known as the Boulder County Latino History Project when it started in 2013, it later expanded statewide and became the Latino History Project. This summer, the program name changed to Chicano & Latino History Project to recognize the historical impact of the Chicano movement on the communities in ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ.

“Being someone who is a Chicano from ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ, I think it is important to recognize that labels matter,” Romero said. “Names are important.”

“(The Chicano movemen) opened all of the doors to be able to study these histories and to give voice to these hidden histories.

I’m excited to be able to acknowledge and honor and respect the contributions of Chicanos. That’s our family.”

In addition to uncovering stories in ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ, the Chicano & Latino History Project also hosts workshops and professional development opportunities for teachers and school districts, provides support around curriculum development, and hosts workshops in communities across ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ.

“I would love for teachers to become more aware of our histories and think about how they can incorporate more local and community stories into their classrooms,” Romero said, “especially local histories that are untold and hidden away. That’s what I would want teachers to think about—how do we incorporate more of that?”

Learn about Chicano Latino history in ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ

Browse the Chicano & Latino History Project website for teaching resources
- Teachers and community members can access over 1,600 primary sources about Chicano and Latino families across ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ
Pay tribute to Los Seis
- During a period of student protests to demand equity in education at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder in 1974, six student activists died after car bombs exploded in Boulder. Alumna Jasmine Baetz created the campus’s Los Seis de Boulder sculpture in partnership with community members and surviving family members.
Visit the original U.S./Mexico border
- Take a trip to El Pueblo History Museum, located along the Arkansas River (or Rio Nepesta), which once marked the border between the United States and Mexico.
See and recognize murals by Chicano and Latino artists
- The Chicano/a/x Murals of ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Project protects, promotes and preserves the legacy of murals.

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Passing on the flame: Meet donor Ruth Cline

Anonymous — Mon, 31 Oct 2022 20:56:52 +0000

Passing on the flame: Meet donor Ruth Cline Anonymous (not verified) Mon, 10/31/2022 - 14:56

Hannah Fletcher

Teachers know their students and how to be helpful for them, and they shouldn’t depend on the school board or other agencies to tell them what to teach.”

Ruth Cline has always had a deep concern for education and access to books.

The 93-year-old former School of Education faculty member continues to work against book censorship even as a retiree now residing in Florida after 10 years as a high school teacher and 26 years as a ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder professor.

When Cline was a high school teacher in Iowa in the 1950s, she remembers coaching the debate team as students grappled with the question: Should the federal government be involved in schools?

“Things have really escalated,” she said, raising her eyebrows at the current challenges aimed at schools.

“Teachers know their students and how to be helpful for them, and they shouldn’t depend on the school board or other agencies to tell them what to teach.

“I still don’t like all that interference with school curriculum. Now, the choices of teachers are questioned, they’re brought to school boards or their books are pulled from libraries. It’s ridiculous. If kids need to read the books, they should have the books to read. I think they are pretty good judges of what they need.”

Cline came from a family of educators. Her mother was a teacher, and her dad was a superintendent and state legislator. She remembers sitting on her father’s lap as a girl while he read her the newspaper. She was too young to understand the content, but she knew reading was important and beautiful.

“I thought that’s the way it’s always supposed to be,” she said.

However, reading was not always a prominent part of adolescence for many children and some teacher education programs. Cline dedicated her career to changing that.

She joined the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder education faculty in 1966, and she advocated for the power of books, wrote books on young adult literature and helped prepare future teachers. Cline worked with colleague and children’s literature instructor Virginia Westerberg on the hugely successful Children’s Literature Conference that featured authors and their writing inspiration for the benefit of ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ teachers and ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder students, parents and children. The conference model has recently been revived.

When Cline reflects on her time at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder, she is most proud of her work with students.

“I think of the students that really caught on fire, the ones that went way beyond what was expected of them,” she said. “That was a thrill.”

Cline’s goal for graduates was to keep reading to their classes and for themselves. Now, she is giving back to the School of Education to continue inspiring educators who love books.

Her gift will create the Cline Literacy Studies Suite, part of the newly renovated building and ongoing fundraising initiative for the School of Education. The suite will house library shelves full of books—free and clear of censorship.

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Radical Hope

Anonymous — Mon, 31 Oct 2022 20:35:17 +0000

Radical Hope Anonymous (not verified) Mon, 10/31/2022 - 14:35

Daniel Strain

Noreen Naseem Rodríguez in front of a Denver mural by local artist Casey Kawaguchi and Nepali artist Imagine876, who are both known for their street art and Asian influences

When Noreen Naseem Rodríguez was a fourth grade bilingual teacher in Austin, Texas, she learned the power of exploring history outside of a traditional textbook.

In 2011 and 2012, she and her students got the opportunity to take part in the Tejano History Curriculum Project—an effort to recognize Mexican Americans’ historical contributions in the Lone Star State. Together, they learned about Rosa María Hinojosa de Ballí, a woman who owned 55,000 acres in the 1700s and is sometimes called “the first cattle queen of Texas.” They also learned about Rodolfo “Corky” Gonzales, a Coloradan from Texas who helped found a movement called the Crusade for Justice in Denver.

“My white students, Mexican American students, my Black students, they were all really into learning about these histories,” she said. “We went through the index of our textbooks, and none of this stuff was in there.”

Rodríguez grew up in Texas to parents from Pakistan and the Philippines. She still remembers learning in her early 30s that Filipino sailors landed in Morro Bay, California, in 1587—a mostly untold historical event that highlights how the experiences of Asian Americans are left out of school curricula. She has dedicated her career to ensuring that young Americans can have a better experience in class than she did.

Rodríguez taught bilingual education in Texas for nine years and earned her doctorate in curriculum and instruction from the University of Texas at Austin. She’s now an assistant professor in the School of Education at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder. The author of the recent book Social Studies for a Better World, Rodríguez believes that classrooms become more vibrant, interesting and just places when children learn about a wide range of American stories—not just those of the white men in most history textbooks.

It’s a stance that touches on an increasingly contentious debate among some parents and politicians. This year, ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ’s state school board is slated to approve a set of new social studies standards for K–12 students.

Board members, legislators, parents, educators and more have sparred over how often the standards should mention marginalized groups like people of color and the LGBTQ community. Rodríguez, however, urges educators not to shrink away from having those “difficult conversations” with their students.

“If kids are asking questions about racism or gender at school, it’s because they want to know, and they see their teacher as someone that can help them understand,” Rodríguez said. “I tell my student teachers not to shut that down.”

To foster those kinds of connections, Rodríguez has embraced what may be the most vilified three words in education today: critical race theory.

Critical race theory is a concept that emerged from law schools in the 1970s and 1980s and in its most basic sense “is a way to understand the ways in which race and racism have been deeply embedded into the laws of this country,” she said.

Rodríguez noted that many people in the U.S. misunderstand what critical race theory is actually about and that no K–12 schools in the country are teaching the concept. But in an edited book that will appear later this year called Critical Race Theory and Social Studies Futures, she and her colleagues ask the question: What if schools did teach students about how policies like redlining kept generations of Black people from owning property; how the Voting Rights Act of 1965 was critical for expanding the right to vote to all people in the country; and how, until the 1960s, decades of laws effectively banned people from Asia like Rodríguez’ family from emigrating to the U.S.

She argues that racism is woven into the lives of young people of color whether politicians acknowledge it or not. If teachers can recognize this reality, they may be able to help their students build empathy for each other. Despite the current environment for K–12 educators, Rodríguez said she’s never given up what she calls “radical hope.” As the title of her earlier book suggests, she believes that a few dedicated teachers and more expansive social studies curricula can build a better world.

“I have two kids who are in public schools, and I believe in public schools,” Rodríguez said. “I have to hope that that education has a purpose, and that by working with teachers and future teachers, my kids will have a better experience than I did.”

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Borderless Roots

Anonymous — Fri, 28 Oct 2022 21:16:57 +0000

Borderless Roots Anonymous (not verified) Fri, 10/28/2022 - 15:16

Hannah Fletcher

“My soul is from Chile,” the fifth grader explained. Born in the United States, she describes herself as “kind of” American and Chilean and gravitates toward her Chilean roots.

Her description illustrates the complexities of “home” for transnational students who are U.S.-born with family ties across borders in Mexico and Latin America.

For the past three years, an after-school cultural mentoring program in the School of Education has paired two dozen predominately Latinx fifth graders from University Hill, a diverse bilingual elementary school across the street from the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder campus, with underrepresented university students as their mentors.

Together, they explore family and community histories that are often suppressed in mainstream U.S. curricula, including ties to loved ones across borders.

“We have been holding a rare space for reflecting on cultural identity, migration and belonging, and what it means to be Latinx and/or transnational in Boulder,” said Andrea Dyrness, Costa Rican-born associate professor of educational foundations, policy and practice who developed the program with school partners when her daughter was a student there. In a recent story published in Anthropology News, Dyrness reflected on the program.

“In our program, hometowns in Chalatenango, El Salvador; Zacatecas, Durango, and Chihuahua, Mexico; in Honduras, Chile and Paraguay, come alive alongside family stories of migration, staying connected across borders, and trying to get ahead in Boulder.”

The program creates trusting relationships where mentors and mentees examine the cultural and political realities they face and honor their experiences and knowledge. Activities are designed by ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder mentors, mostly education and ethnic studies students, to build community and provoke reflection and dialogue around cultural identity.

“The resulting interactions reveal a wealth of cultural knowledge, skills and abilities that are often not visible to the public or in daily life in U.S. schools,” Dyrness wrote.

In 2021, Dyrness and doctoral students Jackquelin Bristol and Daniel Garzón published an initial report called “Bilingual in Boulder” on the Chicano & Latino History Project website.

The report documents shared learning as the fifth graders revealed what it’s like to be “coming of age as bilingual children of immigrants in Boulder, where Spanish is nurtured in their dual language school but sometimes disparaged in public. . . . Students also shared their experiences with racism, fear of the police in their own community, and the militarized border.”

Even in a bilingual school that’s proudly devoted to equity, the researchers found these reflections are important for educators. Deb Palmer, professor of equity, bilingualism and biliteracy, and Dyrness’ research partner, led professional development with teachers to inspire continuous inquiry into students’ lived experiences and counter deficit views of Latinx communities.

The team continues to learn about the knowledge that transnational students bring to schools, and they hope others can learn from linguistically and culturally diverse families.

“I think parents should be proud of the cultural wealth that they are providing for their children—bilingualism, biculturalism, economic understandings, transnational understandings, etc.,” Bristol said. “While these qualities do not receive enough attention in the larger conversations about education, they are beneficial qualities, and we need to position parents as wisdom holders, teachers and leaders in this community.”

Garzón is grateful for the warm welcome from the youth and their families.

“As a researcher, the work through the cultural mentoring program has taught me how to listen and learn from students, laugh with them, celebrate with them, and sympathize with their challenges and needs,” said Garzón, who grew up in the U.S. with ties to Colombia.

“I wish I had this opportunity growing up. I could have learned to appreciate my home language and culture much sooner.”

Parts of this article were originally published in “Finding Home in the Borderlands” by Andrea Dyrness in Anthropology News, July 2022.

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What We're Reading

Anonymous — Fri, 28 Oct 2022 19:15:59 +0000

What We're Reading Anonymous (not verified) Fri, 10/28/2022 - 13:15

A quick look at the recent books from our faculty and community.

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From fertile soil: co-creating a youth-led ethnic studies curriculum

Anonymous — Thu, 27 Oct 2022 23:19:54 +0000

From fertile soil: co-creating a youth-led ethnic studies curriculum Anonymous (not verified) Thu, 10/27/2022 - 17:19

Soraya Latiff

“you are not your roots. you are a flower grown from them.” – pavana reddy

For most of my education as a first-generation immigrant, I grew familiar with not seeing myself represented and internalized that I was not worthy of being cared for. I remember my dialect losing its rhythm. Wearing clothes that didn’t reflect the generations of color that came before me and balancing the need to be exceptional and to be seen, with not being seen too much to stay safe.

I used to think cultivating spaces where youth got to experience what I didn't would matter enough. But I must acknowledge my own pauses, care and the radical honesty required as an adult working with youth changing institutional, systemic and systematic injustices. I witness young people address issues that I once didn’t know I had “permission” to heal from and change.

This past year, Public Achievement students worked together to develop an ethnic studies curriculum at Centaurus High School in Lafayette that we hope will be adopted districtwide. Public Achievement (PA) is a youth-led civic engagement program that convenes mostly students of color from ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder with largely students of color from Boulder Valley School District to organize on issues of injustice in their communities.

Increasingly, since the murder of George Floyd, youth-led ethnic studies curricula get to the root issues in ways that most diversity, equity and inclusion policies can't. Students and adults who work in PA arrive at a focus after reflecting on their lived experiences, values and multiple identities. We unpack what we don’t yet know about our pasts, embody the freedom to claim that history, and take time to reflect and honor that past through change-making action that might have been unimaginable for our parents or ancestors.

This work of young heads, hearts and hands is built on decades of activism in different bodies and identities that have sought to address issues at the root, enabling our students to understand those roots, too. This curriculum will continue to become its own, meeting this moment of education and social change but never leaving ourselves there.

By holding a mirror up to this work, I’ve been able to admire our often unspoken process and growth. I’ve been struck by how students and people of color can hold grief and gratitude in the same breath as we work to know more, claim our differences and show up as our full selves as we lead and build.

on roots

Root: (n) origin; part of the plant attached to the ground (v) establish deeply

“My mom is a Mexican American and was never taught Spanish. Her mom grew up in schools where you would be punished if you spoke Spanish in the classroom. If my ancestors had an ethnic studies course, they would feel more valued in America.” — Isaiah Williams, Centaurus High School senior and youth activist

“I was raised differently from the majority of my family. I was born in the United States, but with all these ‘possibilities’ here in the U.S., I still wasn't taught anything about my culture, where I come from or what makes me great. Not knowing these things makes me stand out whenever I visit my family. At the same time, I connect to my roots when I visit my family in Mexico, through my hands helping their hands peel fruit and tend to the animals that grow and live on their land.” — Liliana Contreras, Centaurus High School senior and youth activist

“No matter where I am in the world, my Mexican culture is always within me. I feel a deeper connection to my ancestors during prayer, with her hands, my grandmother taught me how to pray to La Virgen de Guadalupe when I was younger.” — Adriana Iturbe, Centaurus High School graduate, PA coach and ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder student

“Being first-generation in the U.S., you are simultaneously trying to stay connected to your roots as you learn to live in a different cultural space. It can be hard to connect to my roots when I am not from or living in Mexico. Since taking Ethnic Studies courses, I feel valued both in my education and, simply speaking, as a person. I have had the opportunity to learn about the struggles of my people and connect to my roots in ways I never thought possible” — Yamileth Salinas Del Val, ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder Public Achievement teaching assistant

“My parents grew up in a culture which pushed assimilation. Ethnic studies curriculum for them could have pushed back against assimilation and encouraged a deeper connection with their roots. I learn to cook meals like ozoni or buddae jigae have helped me reconnect with my grandparents’ histories and cultures which we are now geographically distant from.” — Dani Lee, PA coach and ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder student

“I think my family and I both hope for a better future for each other and that we can be happy with our lives. My hopes and dreams differ (from my family and ancestors) because I want BIPOC to succeed in our own ways and that I can be helpful. I think my ancestors just wanted to live a happy life with a house and kids. Those who did this work before us were the firsts and were holding protests, there were a lot of martyrs. The work we are doing now is a continuation of their work in a way, but with more cooperation from people in positions that were against them. Having an ethnic studies curriculum would mean I would feel seen and I would be more comfortable, I would be able to learn about my history as well as a lot of other history that is lost and ignored, I would feel more confident in myself, and I would have a reference in case I want to pursue a career involving ethnic studies. Having an ethnic studies means others become more education on themselves and their peers therefore. They would have a bigger understanding and would be more compassionate.” — Ambar Lozano, Centaurus High School senior and youth activist

on flowers

Flower: (n) seed bearing part of a plant (v) bloom; develop fully and richly

“I frequently felt lost and misunderstood, especially going from high school to college. There weren't many opportunities for me to feel seen and empowered in the curriculum. Ethnic studies means that students of color will have a space where they can see themselves in the curriculum and know they have the capacity to transform the world into what they want it to be. They deserve to be confident in who they are growing up to be, rather than feeling like an outsider to the current world. Some of the dreams and visions I have for my future is to one day be a business owner of a small coffee shop where I can have a space to cultivate different cultures and a safe space for students to find resources necessary to achieve higher education or other goals they may have. I have this in my dreams and visions because by creating community spaces with the community, I know younger students and their parents can unite and come together. ” — Adriana Iturbe, Centaurus High School graduate, PA coach and ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder student

“Some of my dreams and visions include the expansion of Ethnic Studies curriculums for K-12 students across the U.S. This helps students see themselves be represented along with learning about their classmates’ cultures. Because my parents did not have the opportunity to experience the education system in the US, it is my responsibility to take the initiative in making the system more inclusive for future generations. Knowing oneself and learning about one’s culture in the classroom is a powerful thing that is often kept from students of color.” — Yamileth Salinas del Val, PA coach and ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder student

"My family and I both want to see a change in our education system and justice system. We all see and experience the inequalities in our world. However, unlike me, much of my family isn’t as educated in equity and social justice work or invested in creating change. Using the tools I have now, I know we are all capable of learning so much more than what we know and can create change in this world!” - Isaiah Williams, Centaurus High School senior and youth activist

“Exploring the basic ingredients of Japanese and Korean food, learning to cook with different methods and utensils, and slowly building up a vocabulary of food words in these languages has helped me feel connected to these cultures and to my ancestors, who likely prepared and shared these meals in incredibly different contexts. This curriculum means learning about not only the struggles but also the joy and triumphs of communities of color, and ultimately having a more holistic knowledge of all people” — Dani Lee, PA coach and ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder student

Similarly to flowers and their roots, we have two related energies in PA: The known and unknown histories and beliefs of where we come from, and the agency to build something from a place that addresses issues of the past and present, so they do not carry out the future.

Second, beginning each year of this work, trusting the deep knowing in each of us as young people and students and visioning from that knowing, not yet seeing what will grow from that place. These students had been working on racial justice and immigrant rights for years in PA this year. This year is the year that work arrived at them leading the first ethnic studies curriculum in their school district. They will pilot the course in spring 2023 as we work with BVSD to refine and deepen the materials and the relationships necessary to get there. Roots hold steady to the ground amidst changing and uncertain external circumstances. Roots witness the flower bloom, not knowing yet what it might fully become. The flower grows from a soil, never entirely leaving it, still becoming something the root alone was not.

To flowers; not only to their possibilities but their full, beautiful, colorful realities.

Follow PA's work on Instagram (@cupublicachievement) and at colorado.edu/publicachievement.

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All ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Barbara Jean

Anonymous — Wed, 26 Oct 2022 23:22:31 +0000

All ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Barbara Jean Anonymous (not verified) Wed, 10/26/2022 - 17:22

Hannah Fletcher

It was a classic case of “who’s that girl?”

Al Grimm impatiently waited for Barbara Jean to end her phone call when he first spotted her at a party in 1963. Transfixed, he had to meet her. Even though that call had been with her long-distance boyfriend, Barbara Jean spent that evening talking with Al. They marveled at everything they had in common—their love of cars, auto racing and jazz. They married a year later. “We fell in love the first night, and we continued to enjoy life together for 55 years. It was a special deal,” he said.

In those early years, Al admired Barbara Jean’s work as a teacher in Denver. While teaching first and second grade, Barbara Jean became concerned about learning difficulties for some children, and her desire to help led her to ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder’s master’s program in special education.

As a teacher, she was so aware that some children weren’t learning, and she was struggling with how to help them learn,” Al said. “She came to me and said ‘I want to go to school next year, and I want to go to Boulder.’ I said ‘great,’ because I was still going to ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder.”

Al has fond memories of attending ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder together while Barbara Jean worked on her graduate studies and he finished his bachelor’s degree while balancing a full-time job and budding business career. The ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Daily student newspaper wrote a love story about how the young couple often met on the staircase in between their respective education and marketing classes and attended the 1969 Commencement ceremony together—just on different sides of the stadium.

“It was supposed to be an article all about Barbara Jean, because she was in special education, that was on the leading edge of special ed at the time,” he said. “She started telling them about me, and that brought me into the picture. But it should have been all about B.J. (Barbara Jean).”

After graduation, Barbara Jean returned to teaching in Denver Public Schools, where she operated an innovative mobile van equipped with five desks that allowed her to travel and teach elementary students with learning disabilities throughout the district. She later returned to the classroom setting and worked with the state legislature to define special education to better serve students.

“She was passionate about it and wanted to help these children,” Al said. “They meant a lot to her.”

Al’s successful career took them to California, where they spent their most recent decades. Even though they experienced financial hardships—including losing nearly all their savings in the 1980s—their relationship and optimism remained strong. They rebuilt their lives and have been able to give back to the institutions that have meant a lot to them.

Though Barbara Jean did not teach in California, she was always an educator, and that’s why Al has established the new B.J. Grimm Classroom, part of the School of Education’s newly renovated building and fundraising initiative.

“She was a compassionate lady who loved children,” he said. “We were never in an environment where she wasn’t the center of attention if there were children around. She just drew them in.”

After Barbara Jean's death in 2019, Al wanted the world to know about her lasting impact on education. Her legacy as a compassionate educator on the vanguard of what’s important and inclusive in education serves as an inspiration for many future educators who will expand their worldviews within the walls of the B.J. Grimm Classroom. For Al, this classroom is finally all about Barbara Jean.

“First and foremost, she was a teacher,” he said. “She wanted everyone to learn. . . . I just envisioned the ‘Barbara Jean classroom,’ and I liked that. It’s from the heart.”

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Overlooked for more than 100 years

Anonymous — Wed, 26 Oct 2022 23:01:26 +0000

Overlooked for more than 100 years Anonymous (not verified) Wed, 10/26/2022 - 17:01

Rubén Donato

Photo Collage by: Katie Dokson

Mexican Americans have been challenging school segregation for over a century.”

When I began my doctoral program in the early 1980s, I was interested in history, education and Mexican American people, but I quickly discovered very little research on the historical experiences of Mexican Americans in U.S. public schools. I faced a scholarly dilemma—modify my academic focus or push forward.

Since charting my own path as an education historian, I have written about Mexican Americans’ schooling experiences from 1912 through the civil rights era, and provocative research has grown and energized this field since the 1990s. Historians uncovered how Mexican American children were unwanted in schools, forced to segregate, seen as intellectually inferior and expected to leave school at an early age. In contrast to the longstanding idea that education in America was the great equalizer, schools functioned differently for Mexican Americans. However, Mexican immigrants, Mexican Americans and Hispanos/as (those with deep roots in southern ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ and northern New Mexico) resisted school segregation and were not passive victims who accepted their educational fates.

Some are surprised to learn that Mexican American communities challenged school segregation decades before Brown v. Board of Education (1954). Earlier school desegregation cases, notably Del Rio v. Salvatierra in 1930 (Texas), Alvarez v. Lemon Grove in 1931 (California) and Mendez v. Westminster in 1947 (California), showed that Mexican Americans knew school segregation was wrong, they resisted, and they contested the practice in the courts.

One early school desegregation case in Alamosa, ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ, went unnoticed for more than 100 years. My co-authors, Gonzalo Guzmán and Jarrod Hanson, and I brought the Maestas v. Shone case from 1914 into the open in a 2017 publication, and the Maestas case has much to teach us.

It affirms that Mexican Americans have been challenging school segregation for over a century. It was unique, complex and hotly contested at the time. The story and legal strategies are compelling:

Francisco Maestas’ family moved to the white side of town, and he wanted to send his son, Miguel, to the school closest to home. Miguel was denied admission to the white school and was ordered to attend the district’s “Mexican school” across the railroad tracks.

The Hispano/a community organized, staged a boycott and, with the help of a local priest, raised money and hired a Denver attorney. The plaintiffs maintained that their children were being denied admission to the white school because they were racially distinct as Mexicans, and that the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ constitution prohibited classifying public-school children based on color and race. Defendants (school board members and the superintendent) argued that Mexican American children were Caucasians and the district could not be segregating them based on race.

The racial classification of Mexicans in the United States has a complicated history. Legal scholar Laura Gomez notes that after the U.S.- Mexican War of 1846–48, the naturalization of Mexican citizens under the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo suggested Mexicans had white status because naturalization was limited to white people. Gomez, however, is clear that there was also a broad understanding among EuroAmericans that Mexicans were not white.

Even as defendants argued that it was legally impossible for Mexican American students to experience race-based segregation, school officials asserted that segregating students based on language was appropriate. Non-English-speaking Mexican American students, they argued, had to be educated in a separate facility.

However, the court noted that school officials were sending all Mexican American children to the separate school, regardless of their Englishlanguage abilities. Judge Charles Holbrook ruled in favor of Maestas, finding that school officials could not prevent English-speaking Mexican American children from attending schools of their choice, particularly schools close to their homes.

Helping unearth this case with colleagues and the Maestas commemoration committee in Alamosa has been an honor. The case has received media attention, and last spring, the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ state legislature formally recognized it as “one of the earliest court victories involving Latinos against educational segregation.” A commemorative statue will be permanently placed in the Alamosa County Courthouse this fall. I hope the statue will serve as a reminder of this important history and the ongoing struggle for justice in education.

Parts of this article were originally published in “Francisco Maestas et al. v. George H. Shone et al.: Mexican American Resistance to School Segregation in the Hispano Homeland, 1912–1914” by Donato, Guzmán, & Hanson in the Journal of Latinos and Education, 2017.

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Voices from the Classroom

Anonymous — Fri, 14 Oct 2022 21:31:30 +0000

Voices from the Classroom Anonymous (not verified) Fri, 10/14/2022 - 15:31

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Voices - Vol 5

Best wishes to retiring faculty

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Giving Voices to Hidden Histories

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Passing on the flame: Meet donor Ruth Cline

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Radical Hope

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Borderless Roots

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What We're Reading

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From fertile soil: co-creating a youth-led ethnic studies curriculum

“you are not your roots. you are a flower grown from them.” – pavana reddy

on roots

on flowers

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All ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Barbara Jean

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Overlooked for more than 100 years

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Voices from the Classroom

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All ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Barbara Jean