Its impact for Educators

I am glad that Drake won this Drake Meek Mill beef thing. And it is not because I am from the same city as him. It is because of the message that a “singing ni**a” bodying a thug sends to young black boys. Drake prevailing in this instance shows youth that black identity is indeed complex and one doesn’t need to give more fuel to the fallible argument that rap demonstrates black cultural dysfunction. Meek Mill, and rappers like him, make it easy for naysayers of hip-hop to avoid the argument that behavioral responses are the result of racially sanctioned structural conditions. Meek Mill, and thuggy rappers like him, fictitiously tell stories that lead to self-generating cultural patterns. Rappers, like Meek Mill, appropriate our culture for their own financial gain without any thought about the repercussions their words have on young impressionable minds. So, I am glad Drake won.

I am not saying that Drake is perfect. He often raps bars that promote the image of the hyper-masculine black male who debases women and prioritizes material accumulation. But that is not the basis of Drake’s raps or his persona. That is not how he makes his money. Ironically enough, Drake is loved by hip hop fans because of his ability to be authentic about everyday realities that many urban people experience. He is just able to do it in an exuberant and catchy way. That is why he is celebrated. That is why educators should celebrate him if they are going to celebrate any hip hop artist. He, right now, is the epitome of the complexity of black male identity. One foot in the system, one foot out of the system, all the while being himself. What is wrong with that?

When I get back into my classroom, I am going to have a discussion about the Drake and Meek Mill saga and most likely design a few English lessons around it. I am going to use this situation to talk about plagiarism, authenticity, collaboration, creativity and excellence. I may use this beef to teach point of view in writing as well as the use of persuasion when crafting your communication. There are a lot of things we, as educators, can extrapolate from this instance. And there are a lot of things that our students can learn and engage with from this moment in hip hop culture.

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This is obviously vital to education as well. Plagiarism is the cardinal sin in academics and rightly so. We want our students to be unique, creative and we want them to be themselves. We (try to) teach students how to think critically and more importantly, how to think for themselves. So when Drake is accused of using a “ghost writer” educators can use this instance as a teaching point to discuss what plagiarism is exactly. We often assume that students are clear cut on what plagiarism is and thus fail to show them the grey zones of the issue. I once heard an undergraduate professor say, “Everything that has been thought about has already been said, so you need to first make sure you cite your sources when you write and second you should try to say it in a different way.” And this was instruction from a university professor. So imagine what type of swirling ideas around plagiarism high school and elementary students have.

The fact that Drake survived the allegations and ultimately won this rap beef generates insights that can also be translated into a classroom. People didn’t care that he has others helping him write songs. This would not have been the case on the rap scene in 1997. But it is a reality now. So, what does this teach us? It demonstrates that our mentality has slightly shifted from an attitude that places the individual above all else to one that prioritizes contribution and creativity. The most impactful corporations, like Google and Apple, remain on the cutting edge because they foster an environment of collaboration. Schools need to move away from the notion of everything being based on individual excellence by fostering ways that validate and spotlight collaboration and community.

So Drake doesn’t write some of his raps, yet he still came out on top of this beef with Meek Mill. Just because Drake won doesn’t mean that society no longer values authenticity. Him winning means society values the complexity of the black male identity. Drake raps about his emotions, his situation, and of course the hyper-masculine identity of the black male at times. But Drake does not appropriate the stereotype of the black thug and the idea of black dysfunctional culture for his financial benefit. Meek Mill does. We don’t need rappers to communicate long standing stereotypes of the black male as a thug, gangster and pimp. We don’t need more songs about Rolex watches and selling drugs. Drake winning this beef can teach students that black male identity is indeed complex and that you don’t have to fit into a prearranged box in order to succeed. This is a lesson that is missing for black males in education. This is a lesson that Drake winning this beef can teach our future.

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If the Black boy was striving for acceptance amongst his peers as validation for his Blackness, what he struggled with was notions of how academia fit into it all. Sports, street smarts, charm and charisma, and aggression were all equally laid out to us. In order to hone our craft in any of those areas, all we had to do was turn on the TV or listen to our music. Examples of Black males “performing” in those categories and gaining validation were in abundance. As far as any of those character traits went, there were several embodiments along our path to emulation and validation that we could select from. All we had to do was pick one. Heck, we could pick a few.

What was not present in our repertoire of identity construction was the realm of academia. With all our other markers of what makes a cool and official Black male, “earnestly intent on succeeding academically” was not in there. It was nowhere close. What got lost in the shuffle of fostering our own validity through “‘kinshipping’ with our boyz” was the actual attention to the lessons and lectures our teachers were delivering. Through middle school and as I eventually moved into high school, those lessons, experiments, and projects were not really a priority for me at the time. In order to solidify my reputation and identity, I was more focused on honing my craft in athletics and my perception materialistically. Baggy jeans and t-shirts, fitted caps, and doo-rags were offset by huge chunks of cubic zirconia in my ears and a gaudy silver chain around my neck. It was the early 2000s and my swag was on point. I looked like every other Black boy at the time. In school I also, to a certain extent, acted like every other Black boy at the time. I felt I had to if I wanted to remain in this ever-important popularity contest of high school. It was no holds barred and the only areas that you could afford to give up ground were the areas on the fringe, the areas that weren’t lucidly outlined already. Unfortunately, we saw those main fringy areas as the classroom and academics.

It was very hard being Black and wanting to do well in class. I faced a perceptual struggle almost every day. I was battling on more than one front as well. The guard I had put up left me vulnerable to teacher subjectification and discretion. I had never explicitly expressed intentions of succeeding in class. My attitude towards academics was passive. I took it as it came; the good, the bad, and the ugly. Because of that, I without a shadow of a doubt guarantee that I was viewed in a certain light by my teachers. Because I was satisfied with my 80% or 70% and lightly upset with my 60% (aggression is a trump card in the construction of a Black male identity anyway), I continued to be pigeon holed by teachers, receiving mediocre grades.

The “teachable moments” and attention to detail that came on the football field or in preparation for a school talent show were never existent by any of my teachers during a regular class. As I moved through my final years of high school and started to excel in sports (and consequently started to excel in academics), teachers and myself would have many conversations about how I could do this or that on the field in order to improve my “game”. There was invited access to frank conversations with teachers when it somewhat concerned my plight in sports. But as I changed out of my gym clothes and donned my baggy Levis 501s and strolled back to class, stopping to chat up a few females along the way, consciously coming a few minutes late in order to “make an entrance,” those frank discussions regarding my life’s plight dissipated. My relationship with the academic side of school and my classroom teachers was as stale as yesterday’s toast. And this was both my fault and my teachers’. I did not know how to appear vulnerable and concerned in regards to my schooling. My teachers did not know how to read beyond my appearance and demeanor. Thus, we were stuck in this perpetuated cycle of comfort zones and stereotypes. So we went on with our daily lives, swallowing whatever rough patches we had to experience, all the while subconsciously accepting the simplistic notion that “this is just the way it is.”

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During the long weekend my girlfriend and I went to visit a long time friend who recently moved to Montréal with her husband and nine month old baby. This was my first time in Montreal, I appreciated the historic nostalgia that you feel once you enter the old quarters and walk the streets of interlocking brickwork. This long weekend also gave me the chance to “unplug” and get my mind off of school and the continuous grind of the school year. These days are ever so important to a young teacher. Older teachers are always offering warnings of the dangers of exerting far too much effort and focus into the school year; over-extending oneself for clubs, committees, and grandiose lesson plans come with the warning of potential burn-out, especially around this time of year. But by the end of the trip a conversation had emerged on Black masculinity in school.

I have never experienced nor do I even want to experience this so-called “burn out”. I think I am hard-wired to grind; I have been doing it all my life. However, I also take opportunities, over long weekends and breaks, to unplug and totally forget about my day job.

Well, not totally.

In the midst of the weekend filled with tourist activities and dinners that had way too many calories, a curious discussion regarding the “blackness” of Barack Obama quickly turned into a debate on race, “shadeism”, and ideas on education. I was surprisingly intrigued about what our friend, a native born and raised in the Republic of Congo had to say about the education system and its relationship with race and in particular the black race. He put forth some ideas that I never really thought about before. My ever-evolving stance on education and black masculinity in school is this: Urban Black males in particular experience additional challenges navigating the educational spheres because over arching notions of “blackness” and what it means to be accepted as “cool” in the urban black community do not run parallel to success in the educational setting. Instead they are almost in direct contrast. (I will get into my thoughts on why in a later blog). For this reason, black boys are conflicted with a reality of succeeding due to notions that tell us that in order to succeed we must adopt perceived “white” characteristics of schooling. In school, we basically must adopt a “Carlton Banks” approach in order to be accepted academically by our white teachers. If not, we face a harder time of being accepted academically while simultaneously representing ourselves in a “Fresh Prince” sort of being.

Most urban black males I know chose the latter and faced subtle as well as self-perpetuated discriminations in school. The burden of schooling makes it hard for Black males to succeed because society only reads us through limited ideologies of what a Black male can be. Black boys should embrace their culture: their style of dress, the way the talk, the swagger they embody, the music they listen to, the things they choose to enjoy, and still be able to work hard at school and try to succeed without having to experience a conflict of identity. It should be an “and/with” paradigm that black identity operates under rather than this current “either/or” dilemma that currently elopes that “thuggish” black guy as a person who doesn’t care about his school. Teachers see a black male with his pants sagging and assume that he doesn’t care about school. This is the conflict black males face in school that is unlike any other body.

How do we change our current perceptions of the Black male in a way that allows us to open up a dialogue of Black masculine possibilities? We can do this by opening up a narrative that exposes our culture to role models that have navigated schools and life with an “and/with” lens. By seeing black teachers that may have tattoos and choose to wear jeans instead of khakis, or Jordans instead of Sperrys, we will open up an acceptance that screams how perfectly fine is it to succeed while still being authentic to yourself and your black masculinity. This is how we include academic into the repertoire of the other verbs that are used to describe the black male already. When we open up the dialogue surrounding Black masculinity, our boys will no longer feel that they have to be Carlton Banks in school and the Fresh Prince outside of school.

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As I started to work my first year as a junior high school teacher, making a little over 50 thousand a year (much less after taxes!), my mother would issue daily advice on things I should, and shouldn’t be doing with my money. “Matthew, you have to save your money, you need to think about the future,” she would warn as I walked in with a bag or two from the mall. At first, I wasn’t bothered by her advice. She was simply looking out for my best interests. But as time went on, I came to a realization of sorts. I thought, how could my mother, who had no savings and was living on government assistance as she neared towards sixty, advise me financially? What disturbed me even more was that at age 25 my measly beginning salary was more than both my parents had ever made. I was now making more money than both my parents combined. I grew frustrated, lashing back at her when the advice came. “How can you tell me what to do with my money when you have nothing to show for yours after a lifetime?” I would simply ask. They were harsh words for a son to say to his parents but it truthfully spoke more about my potential inadequacies.

I wanted to believe her advice. But how could I? I started to look around my neighborhood to see if there was a financial blueprint for me to follow. I couldn’t find any. Most of the people around worked blue-collar jobs and there was really no one that I knew that I could say, “this is where I want to be in ten, fifteen years.” I felt defeated. I had no direction.

This is the challenge many Black males face that live in lower class communities. You hear about the rich helping the rich, but what about the people orbiting the middle? The lack of role models for Black males is so limited that of course many turn to things that align with this “dollar and a dream” mentality. Even here, in the middle of the pack so to speak, I had no one who I could lean on for advice about GICs, savings plans, RRSPs, and other ways to increase my wealth. Even making a decent living, it seems as though Black males “from the ‘hood’” are destined to remain financially illiterate.

This reality is something that education must address. Learning about history and science is great, but we need some curriculum that addresses that growing economic disparity gap. Perhaps then we will see Black males make alternative choices (career wise, in school, etc.) that will forecast an upward turn for the marginalized communities that we come from. In my opinion the systemic “cure” to these ailments is simple. In this day and age, financial literacy should be as mandatory as Math classes. Perhaps even integrated with our Math curriculum. Somehow some way, we need to fix our system so that it helps people who have no role models. “A dollar and a dream” is great, but what we really need is a few bucks and a clear vision.

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