Kudos: Gratitude Practice

A literacy narrative, of sorts.

Sitting across from my family and friends in the intimate and semi-private spaces of dinner tables, coffee counters, and dance studios, I have deep respect for the habits of flexibility we practice and the everyday multilingual language exchanges that have taught me about other cultures and prompted my insatiable curiosity about the world and others in it. I thank all those who supported me on my own literacy quests.

The growing awareness that my interest in language politics did not predominate politically or culturally came at a critical time in my professional development, as I began reflecting on what it means to be granted institutional support and was asked to fill the role of First Year Writing and later English teacher, feeling mostly like a gangly four-year old stepping into my mom’s well-worn dance shoes. The broken chalk I found in the oversized jacket reassured and challenged me, but what would I use it for?

If community literacy is one dimension of the field pioneered by scholars close to my home and home institution, I ask how we conceive of and draw the boundary lines around our communities, and who decides. We find homes in surprising places sometimes, and the experiences I’ve had and homes I’ve been welcomed into could not have been imagined by generations even twice removed from me. I found a home among people who deeply care about teaching, who articulate this passion, and who theorize about it.

There were also those who began this journey with me but were not able to walk me to its end, including Aunt Yolanda, Uncle Joey, Aunt Theresa, Ann, Bob, and our First Year Writing secretary, Derrick, whose light, I find, is forever gone from his office. This list is too long by every name, but I still feel their presence smiling on in the pages of my work.