My Motivation

My Motivation
The Joy of My Life

Saturday, April 17, 2010

How I was Raised Survey Reflection

The first survey I chose to complete was How I was raised which allow one to think about their own personal values and morals that was taught by our parents. When taking this survey, I began to think on how my parents raised me and the different things they taught me about life. One thing that my parents always taught their children was to be different and be our own individual. They taught on the importance of being independent so when a person decides to walk out and leave we will still have some sort of stability of our own. Parents are the breaking ground for their children and how we raise them factors out what kind of adults they would be.
Some of the questions that were asked in the survey were when speaking to an adult, is it polite to give them eye contact? Or In my culture (the way that I was raised) bowing to each other is the appropriate form of greeting. The person lowest in rank must bow first and bow deepest. Which in my culture to bow down to someone would be considered humorous because that is not the way we were raised. We spoke to adults by addressing them hello madam or sir and always gave eye contact to show others we are speaking the truth and we respect who they are.

In closing, the surveys do allow you to think about your childhood and how your parents raised you. Whether, we turned out to be college graduates or the complete opposites, parents teach us things based on what they know. Everything my parents taught me may have not been correct, but evidently it has made me into a strong adult who chose to be successful and independent and things that are influential to me I am passing those lessons down to my daughter.

Extra Credit-EDF 2085 Asili Night

Professor McNair invited our class to attend what he calls Asili Night. When the invitation was first given, I thought it was going to be some taboo ritual ceremony where I would have to sacrifice my sight (Charles Mingus). I decided to bring along my sister, cousin, and daughter Amarria. Upon our arrival we saw some dressed in African attire, musicians setting up, and a young boy in a funny looking outfit. Strange thoughts began flooding and ramping through my head until the program started. As the night was beginning to start, a man was introduce to do an opening prayer and usually in my culture or Christian life, the prayer is spoken in English with a message to God asking for peace, prosperity and strength and even though this man was praying in a different language it was the same message... may God send down peace, prosperity and blessings among the people that were there that night. As the audience began to fill up with people, I did notice one of my classmates Frank who was video taping the program. After the prayer was said, a band that consisted of men from all different races and colors began to play and the crowd got excited. I seen people moving their hips and tapping their feet to the music that was playing. The band in my words was LIVE!!! The drums were beating, the saxophone was groovy, and the singer was rejoicing. Then they got down to business. A female poet with a very intricate and articulate Jamaican accent was introduced by Professor McNair, and if I could recall she is an English Professor at Florida International University and achieved many things. The poem that stuck out to me was the one she dedicated to her brother that was obviously incarcerated. She spoke of his time in prison and how she longs to see him free, how she remembers the untimely time they spent together by the water in their beautiful island, and how she misses him every waking day. When one of the other speakers was introduced, he was a man that I know o so very well...Professor Preston, one of Miami Dade's finest English instructors and in my opinion the best. If I may say, he is in the process of writing a book and he read a little insert of the book at Asili Night. It was about a young virgin boy who apparently lost his virginity to an older woman and had a grandmother that was a little ill. The grandmother had what I would call an aid to help her get around from place to place. One night they decided to go to a revival to hear a prophet who could HEARD the voice of the Lord and was gifted through God for healing and at the end of the service he open-booked the lives of the people. I did not go into or discuss everything that went on that night, but my daughter enjoyed it because every time the band played she would move and laugh. A couple of times she even screamed out loud...I guess to let the others know she was having a good ole time. There was a band there with just about all Hispanic males who performed EXCELLENT!!! It was a great night and I enjoyed it!

Friday, April 16, 2010

Extra Credit-EDF 2085 Emmett Til

On Monday, March 15 Professor McNair shared an awesome poem that he wrote in remembrance of Emmett Til, the young boy who unfortunately lost his life for whistling at a white woman in the 1950's. Emmett Til was born in Chicago in 1941 to a beautiful woman by the name Mamie Til and when he was about two or three years old his father died. The only memorable thing he had of his father was a ring that was later given to him by his mother. In my opinion she raised Emmett to be a bright young man and taught him what kind of world they were living in during the times of racial segregation and discrimination. She sent young Til to his uncle's in Money, Mississippi where he was later murdered brutally by two white men that that was acquitted for the hate crime, later admitted to the crime, then sold the story for $4,000. This act was the cause of the Civil Rights Movement in America where black Americans begin to stand up for their rights such as Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Jr. According to many reporters in attendance, the judicial process had failed Emmett Till, and the real question to come out of the whole trial was whether, without federal intervention, blacks could get justice in Mississippi. For many others the trial raised a different set of questions, many of them concerned with the truths of the case. Despite the best efforts of the prosecuting attorneys, the trial seemed to hide more truths than it answered as many competing testimonies were never fully explored or cross-examined. For instance, what really had happened that afternoon in the Bryant grocery? Moreover, how did Milam and Bryant find out about the alleged transgression? Who else besides Milam and Bryant drove out to Mose Wright’s cabin that night, and who were the other men spotted with Milam at the barn the next morning? Were there really black men in Milam’s pickup that evening? If so, who were they and what had happened to them? Finally, how long did Emmett Till remain alive that night, and exactly when, where, why and how did his murder take place? A handful of investigative reporters understood that the trial did not answer these questions fully and that the truth, more likely than not, had been obscured by the proceedings. In the poem I believed McNairs point was to show all races to never forget your past no matter how devastating it may be. Not for hatred to be in our hearts, but remember the pain the ones before us endured for us to be free and show how many before us died and experienced things in order for us to have a better future. We as future educators must inform and teach our students what formed our history and why history is so important.