#Myblackteacher
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STORIES OF
 BLACK TEACHER 
​
IMPACT

How a chance encounter was the seed to starting the Black Teacher Project

2/29/2016

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In January of 2014 I walked into a day-long professional development session that I was co-facilitating as part of my work with the San Francisco Coalition for Essential Small Schools (SFCESS). All of a sudden I hear Ms. Mosely is that you? I ‘d worked with this school before and none of the teachers had ever been so formal with me. When I turned around, though, I saw it was my former student Belinda. I hadn’t seen her since I left my position as a Social Studies teacher in 1998. “Belinda?!? It’s great to see you, what are you doing here?” I exclaimed. “I teach 7th grade English now” she replied. I can’t express in words the joy that came over me. I quickly had to refocus on the work I was doing with the whole staff, but I knew that this was more than serendipity; there was some larger reason why we were reconnecting at this time.

I had already been thinking about The Black Teacher Project, but I wasn’t sure where we’d begin or what it would look like. Over the next few months I had the opportunity to observe Belinda’s teaching and coach her in her role as a new teacher. She was and is an amazing teacher. I was blown away by her organization, rigor and obvious care for her students. She was a much better teacher than I had been at her age. I admitted to her that I was proud and surprised. Belinda was not a strong high school student. I taught her Modern World History and recruited her for the softball team I started as a way to keep her engaged with school and to let her know that I saw her beyond what was happening in the classroom. We both struggled — she couldn’t keep her grades up, and I couldn’t get her to open up to me so that I could help more. When we reflected on that time she had been experiencing major trauma in her personal life and that our connection was meaningful for her, even if I didn’t know it. 

Fast forward to 2015, we’re meeting in her classroom and I ask her how things are going. She’s struggling to navigate the impact of gentrification. A white parent is questioning her teaching because their child didn’t get an A on an assignment. Reflecting on the experience, Belinda shared, “I grew up in this city. I wanted to come back and teach kids like me because I know what so many of them are going through. I didn’t come here to deal with whiny privileged parents!”  I knew exactly what she meant. This was the same reason that I had chosen to teach at Thurgood Marshall, a school with a majority of low-income students of color. I felt for her. I knew first-hand what a great teacher she was, and her principal assured me that this was not about her teaching as much as her race. The big sister in me wanted to find this parent and give them a piece of my mind (Brooklyn-style). Instead I went back to Belinda and posed a question: “What is your political project? Teaching is a political act, what are you up to?” I wanted to remind her she had a responsibility to the students in her class that fit the demographic she imagined as well as those who didn’t. But no reminder was necessary. She was clear that she wanted to teach her students to love themselves and fight against oppression.  This was aligned with her work as a community organizer in between high school and teaching. It was through our conversations over the next several months that helped me get clear that “every child deserves a Black teacher.” In this case that parent needed their child to have a Black teacher. Our work is as much about social-political change as it is curriculum and pedagogy. 

They say good teaching involves learning from your students. Thanks to Belinda for being #myBlackteacher.

~Micia Mosely, Executive Director of the Black Teacher Project
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Belinda's story

2/27/2016

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In the late 90’s at Thurgood Marshall Academic High School, I encountered the no-nonsense and comical nature that was Micia Mosely (the Executive Director of the Black Teacher Project now). She was the first Black teacher in my life that was honest with her students about the society that we lived in and the conditions that were created to sustain an oppressive system. I will never forget this one day in class. We were learning about the Industrial Revolution, and Ms. Mosely was leading a read-aloud in our class textbook. As I silently read along, Ms. Mosely came across a line under an image of Black slaves toiling the earth with a White overseer standing next to them. Below the image, it read, “And the slaves were happy.” Ms. Mosely immediately paused, looked at the class with a concerned look, and quipped back, “Now I need y’all to know that these slaves were not happy, and I am shocked that they would print something like this in a high school textbook.” She deeply sighed, and raised our awareness in one breath as we snickered and gasped in disdain at this clear error. We, low-income and middle-class students of color, and native San Franciscans from the south side of the city – were very clear that this was unjust. Ms. Mosely led an impromptu class discussion on the real history of slavery and the rest is herstory.

This memory was forever ingrained in my psyche. I appreciated Micia’s ability to be candid with us, and I wish I could have been as candid with her about what I was dealing with in my family life. I closed myself off from adult support and, instead, self-medicated while cutting class with best friends. Micia tried to reach out to me, but I was so overwhelmed by everything I was feeling that I shut down. Either way, I still felt and was impacted by her presence even if at a distance.

In 2014, I was a community organizer turned classroom educator who had had a horrifying first year of teaching where I suffered an identity crisis and job loss. But then at Everett Middle School, I was able to recover with parts of my identity slowly coming back to me. In this process of humility and insecurity, it was at Everett’s mid-year retreat that the universe would put a model that would be able to guide me on my new path and continued purpose in life. I had already been thinking about where to find people in my community who were an example of what I was trying to do as a queer, Black, socially-conscious teacher. As I stepped out of the elevator and walked into the Hanson Bridgett office, I saw this tall figure with silver, heart-shaped earrings, a burgundy sweater, and black pants. As they turned around, my mind grew, and my heart filled, as I approached Micia Mosely, saying, gleefully, “Ms. Mosely!” She looked at me, and stopped in her tracks. Jaw dropped. Arms open. We embraced and before a tear dropped from my bright eyes, she said, “Stop before you have me start crying.” We laughed and she asked if we could catch up.


Ever since then, we have done more than catch up. Micia has played a pivotal role in my development as a Black teacher because she returned to my life during a time when I was in the beginning stages of identifying my purpose in my new role as a 7
th grade Language Arts teacher, and a politicized San Francisco native who struggled with the effects of gentrification on my once beloved city.  Micia was able to help me clarify my political project and translate that into tangible steps that I could take to implement it in a way that felt authentic to the skin I am in. Micia and I’s return was a return to kinship. It is hard to find queer, Black teachers who are living their life, unafraid and unapologetic. Micia has demonstrated the importance of critical pedagogy that is rooted in Black queerness, and I will forever be thankful that she was #myBlackteacher
.

~Belinda Bellinger, San Francisco Unified School District
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Betsy's story

2/24/2016

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In a school of teachers who hated my curiosity, Ms. Umphlett appreciated it, because she loved to learn too. ~Betsy D.
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Stephanie's story

2/23/2016

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Mrs. Gore... everyone was afraid of her! She was strict and serious, never any fun. That's what the other kids said, but I didn't believe them none. She stood at the front of the class, taught us transitional words and the essay form. We did science projects and raised meal worms of our own! I know she was tough, but she was just what I needed. Marilyn Gore, it's been years! But thanks to you I succeeded.  ~Stephanie Corrales
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Candy's story

2/23/2016

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Mrs. Witherspoon, from Coral Way Elementary has taught 5 generations of the Gonzalez-Gutierrez clan. Starting with my older sister, and lately, my two youngest cousins. Her dedication to the many generations of students at Coral Way is inspiring. The campus would not be the same without her energy and wisdom. Thank you, not only for molding me and my relatives into a great students, but for your kindness and generosity. ~Candy Gonzalez
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Joseph's story

2/21/2016

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My 4th grade homeroom teacher, Mrs. Howard, was my favorite teacher throughout grade school. She was quite tall, very pretty, always wore her hair pulled back in a bun, and dressed in long-sleeved blouses and over-the-knee skirts. Sure there were other nice teachers but nobody compared to Mrs. Howard who simply had the warmest vibe, and every kid (even the bad ones) always paid her due respect. She encouraged our class to read often and exhibited such patience with the small group of students who had trouble keeping up with the rest of the class. I remember her encouragement when 5-6 students (myself included) wanted to try out for patrol duty as 5th graders the following year. She was very supportive and said we each had a very good grade average and something about being "half way there", which meant we qualified to be elementary school patrols. Even when a student was in trouble (which rarely ever happened) she had a way of making him/her realize their error without embarrassing the student in front of other students. She was the authority figure, no doubt, but certainly didn't abuse it. I knew kids from other classes who hated their homeroom teachers and wished they had been assigned to Mrs. Howard instead. . . . What a great memory of a teacher to recall. :) ~Joseph Marin
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John's story

2/21/2016

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Dr. Enid Lagesse taught my required class on Liberation Theology my sophomore year of college, and I learned how radical religion could be. ~John Blair
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T-Pain's story

2/21/2016

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I write for a music review site and was given permission to highlight the #MyBlackTeacher campaign as part of it. So I searched for a song that would work. Then FKA twigs, a former dance teacher, released a video. Little did I know, when starting my research for the piece. that twigs had a huge impact on T-Pain. Check out the review as well as T-Pain's latest song, which shows the effect twigs had on T-Pain's life.

​~Matthew
Picture
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Cedric's story

2/20/2016

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I really thought Mrs. Robinson didn't like me. She was one of these old-school teachers who cut her teeth in the segregated schools of Jim Crow North Carolina. True to the lore of the day, many educators in those all-black institutions lived in and were highly respected by the local community. Teaching was one of the few professional options available for African Americans, and those educators were determined to reveal the potential of their students despite the substandard materials, facilities, and resources they had on hand. 

Fast forward thirty years to the first day of our second grade class: Mrs. Robinson went around the room - which I remember as warm, brightly lit, and full of colorful posters - introducing her 25 charges to one another. She referred to other relatives of ours whom she'd previously taught: "I used to teach Cedric's uncle." Oh nooo. That meant she knew our family! And indeed she did. Seems like she had regular conversations with my mother. Mrs. Robinson didn't appreciate some of my boyhood flair, like my constant low-key humming and my steady giggles at the shenanigans of my buddy Greg (he and I are still friends to this day). But true to her training, Mrs. Robinson saw my potential and worked to nurture my strengths. She made me read aloud (because I was a good reader) to practice my diction and verbal skills. She made me work hard at spelling (because of her, even now I can spell "beautiful" and "kitchen" without transposing letters). She encouraged my mother to have me tested for the gifted student program, in which I enrolled in the third grade. And she absolutely would not tolerate my incessant talking, even relegating me to a back corner desk when I couldn't control my blabbing.

Wherever she is now, Mrs. Robinson might be surprised to learn how she impacted me most - travel. I clearly remember how we studied the globe, how she told us stories about her travels to Brazil (at the time I didn't know of any black people who had traveled abroad), and how we each had to do an oral report about another nation. Sweden was my assignment. After my mother caught me trying to cut pictures out of our home encyclopedia, she hustled me to the travel agency across the street from the main branch of the public library, where a kind and patient travel agent shared brochures and stories about Stockholm, Lapland, the Baltic Sea, Vikings, and the royal family. I proudly carried my report to school and showed off my crayoned turquoise and lemon yellow flag, along with the assorted pictures safely cut and glued from travel brochures. Mrs. Robinson was very proud of me. Not only was this the genesis of high academic standards (defintely reinforced at home), but my travel bug was also born in her second grade class - and I've now been to six continents, including twice to Brazil!

I don't recall seeing Mrs. Robinson after I left elementary school, but I hope that she saw my trajectory and felt some degree of satisfaction that she helped to set a humming, curious, chatty little boy on a path to greater learning, achievement, and adventures. Thank you, Mrs. Robinson! 

Cedric Brown is a community investor and artist who also started an annual award that assists black youth with personal development goals
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Nathan's story

2/20/2016

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My teacher would be Dr. Robert Weems Jr. He was my first Black male teacher in my life and was very inspiring. His knowledge of Black History was amazing and inspired me to learn more about my history. I wanted to make sure that I did well in his class and didn't want to disappoint him. ~Nathan Stephens
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