Students are disconnected from school because what they learn isn’t relevant to them. As a nation, we have refused to recognize the idea that we should become less racist.
Summit Public Schools (SPS) boast an impressive four-year college acceptance rate of 96%, while Summit alumni complete college at twice the national average. Summit’s college acceptance numbers look great at face value, however, the data on students who actually complete college tells a different story.
As someone who falls into a range of different, unique boxes, I often find myself worrying about whether people are actually looking at me, or just the diverse quotas they can meet with me. Do they want me for me or for my identities?
Much like many 21st century movements that applaud performative activism (such as 2020’s #BlackoutTuesday movement which only served to silence Black activist voices), proclaiming the need for a DEI-infused curriculum is only the first step of a much larger journey.
The failures of public transportation happen across different communities in California, which means that this issue is systemic. People who rely on public transportation are primarily people of color and low-income people. People who can’t afford Uber or Lyft. People who can’t afford their own car. People who are already underrepresented. This is an environmental and social justice issue.
I noticed the homeless man sitting on the sidewalk beside the McDonalds on my way to get breakfast. The cold weather had made his face beet red. A thin, Asian man, I had seen him sitting bunched up on the sidewalk for days at a time.
At the age of fifteen, I came to America with a picture of a country that was shaped by every single Hollywood movie I had watched with my mom back in Hong Kong. I fantasized about the huge houses that line the clean, spacious streets where people would ride their bicycles. But the first thing that astonished me was the streets filled with homeless people.
There was a time when I felt like an outsider to my extended family. The time my cousin related me to a ‘Made in China’ label. Hiding behind the hurt with an expressionless face and a faint fake laugh, I felt vulnerable. Fourth-grade me did not know how to stand up for myself.
