I used to be a tutor at a small tutoring company in 2017. I really loved working there because of the kids — they can really be something — and because it was one of my first jobs. I tutored there for about a year, but I felt really close to the students; we would joke and laugh, they’d ask me for help, I’d give them advice. It was heartwarming. There were definitely hard days, but it was definitely a rewarding job overall.
I started working there again at the beginning of this cursed year (thankfully, it’s almost over — hopefully, there isn’t a full repeat in 2021). Unfortunately, due to the pandemic, I had to resign in March.
I recently got asked to tutor someone who I had tutored before — and she’s hilarious, so I agreed (part-time job, no benefits, so no other reason to really agree besides that, right?). She wanted help with a college essay she had to submit by the end of this semester (they grow up so fast). Mind you, she’s still a ninth grader, so writing an APA style paper was definitely out of her ballpark. I tried to explain to her how to write more professionally (it being a college paper and all), but it was difficult, so I tried to find a paper I had previously written for some other class.
I tried to look on my computer for an APA paper, but I actually deleted all of them (disturbing to remember those awful papers I guess? Shoutout to my Research Psychology classes!). I remembered that I saved some papers to my Google Drive, so I decided to dig through them and try to find a decent one that wasn’t too long (again, curse those research classes…).
I didn’t have to look much (there weren’t many papers saved there; I use Drive primarily to save videos and photos), and found a paper I wrote for a writing class I took during my time at USC (2020 graduate… woohoo? No graduation… *sigh*). The paper was actually for the same class I started my Medium account for (hahaha). To be honest, I never thought I’d use Medium again, but it has been calling my name (plus I only have two followers… If you’re reading this: Hi, Coach!).
So, I reread my paper and I was struck with the same sadness I felt when I wrote it. The paper (to make a long story short…er) was about a class project we did to uplift children’s spirits about creativity in schools — especially with society’s focus on STEM and standardized testing. I thought it was a cute and sweet idea.
For some background (I guess the story would make more sense if I give some), I am a Chicana who attended the University of Southern California — probably one of the whiter universities (aren’t the “elite” ones usually labeled that?). From what I can remember (which is usually not a lot, so please bear with me), my writing class consisted mostly of white folk (as were most of my classes at USC, let’s be real). Our project was to encourage creativity in young students, since it is being put to the side more and more to make room for (as mentioned before) STEM and standardized tests. We decided to do our project with the school across the street, which is formally known as 32nd Street/USC Performing Arts Magnet.
Back to the story, we went to the school at 8:30 a.m., our regular class meeting time (I know, suuuper early for the College Student), but I arrived a few minutes early, so I was the first one to get into the classroom full of eager students. They were waiting to see their stories performed by elite* college students.
*There really shouldn’t be elites anywhere, to be honest; many people go to college, and some who don’t attend “elite” colleges get the same jobs or better jobs than those who do, so… unless you’re privileged like some of my previous classmates…. (I keep sidetracking, sorry, but not that sorry).
I don’t recall much from that day, to be honest, but I wrote the details in the aforementioned paper:
One extremely notable detail when I walked into the classroom was the amount of Latino students in the class. Out of the 24 students, only one of them was Black while the rest were Latino. It was a striking difference, coming from a private school that has predominantly white and Asian students. There was not one Caucasian or Asian student in the classroom. That USC is located in a city that is known for being unsafe is not a secret; some may even refer to the neighborhood as “ghetto,” but I was surprised at the difference in color between my renowned school and the elementary school across the way.
As I mentioned earlier, I was sad when I reread this. I don’t know what it’s like to be in a school where there were no white people. I do know some of the history behind why there are many schools with little to virtually no white students (you can do the research, or maybe I’ll do a post about it later… but you should do the research, for real). But I was never in a school that had zero white students. I grew up in a diverse neighborhood — I had white friends, Latinx friends, Black friends, Asian friends, South Asian friends, Filipino friends… So, I wouldn’t say that my situation and education (or lack of resources for) were similar to the students who attended 32nd Street Elementary School (Let’s not include “USC Performing Arts Magnet” because… what have they really done to deserve their name in the title?). I have my own privileges; I think this one was striking. I think it could have been the difference between me going to USC or not, probably, especially if you look at the statistics comparing neighborhoods like mine with neighborhoods like theirs. And, it really isn’t fair. They were cheated. And USC, especially with the reconstruction of The Village, is gentrifying, making matters worse for the people who belong in that neighborhood.
It’s striking to me that this day has been one of the most influential, eye-opening days for me, while it was just another day of class for the white students in Writing 340.
