Chasing Personal Meaning: Pedagogical Lessons through Always Running
Victoria Theisen-Homer
Harvard Graduate School of Education
Abstract: In this autobiographical narrative, the author recounts her experiences teaching
the novel Always Running with her English classes at a high school in a gang heavy area.
When she first started teaching, this teacher struggled to engage students. One particularly
disruptive student requested to read Always Running, but the teacher initially resisted
teaching the text. However, student interest in the novel endured, and the teacher finally
decided to take a risk and teach it. She used the novel in both her freshmen “intervention”
and junior English classes. Throughout the resulting lessons, the teacher formed
meaningful relationships with her students and both she and they learned valuable lessons
about academic content, themselves and humanity. Amidst the unit’s success, the teacher
wrote a grant to bring the book’s author, Luis Rodriguez, to speak to the campus. His visit
served to deepen the novel’s impact and emphasize the importance of finding personal
meaning.
1
“I don’t want to learn this stuff!” Nora cried as she stood up from her desk and looked
around at her peers. All eyes were on her. “It’s boring!”
I sighed. It was my first month as a teacher and I had no idea how to inspire my 9th
grade students to buy in to the “standards based” curriculum the district provided.
“Some students actually do want to learn,” I managed to utter slowly. “Please sit down
so we can get through the lesson.” Exasperated, I glanced at the large grey binder of materials I
was supposed to cover in preparation for the district’s periodic assessment. I hated that binder.
Nora glared at me and moved away from her cooperative group to an empty table in the
back. She refused to participate. Although few of the other students seemed particularly
engaged in the current unit, they displayed more willingness to indulge my attempts at teaching.
Nora, however, was having none of it. I was at a loss.
When I approached Nora later, she paused, seemingly contemplating her behavior and
then she asked, “Why can’t we read something interesting like Always Running1?” All I knew
about this memoir was that it dealt with gang life, something with which I had absolutely no
experience. Thus, I felt I had no business teaching it. But the students later taught me that
meaningful lessons sometimes require risks.
Our Starting Line
In 2007, I was a new teacher and so were half of my colleagues. The Title-1 public high
school in central Los Angeles where we worked opened its doors that year to alleviate crowding
at nearby schools. Initially, our naïveté meant we faced a treacherous learning curve, seeking to
establish order on a new campus that lay at the nexus of several prominent gang territories. But
1
Always Running: La Vida Loca is the personal memoir of Luis J. Rodriguez. The story follows his experiences
growing up in Los Angeles, with particular focus on his participation in a gang. Ultimately, Rodriguez learns to use
civic activism and writing to fight against the injustice that causes many to join gangs in the first place.
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after the school survived its first couple months with only minor incidents (a direct contrast to
the cautionary tales we heard of nearby schools), the inexperience that was once our
disadvantage soon dissolved into an idealistic and indefatigable faith in the potential of our
school. We “drank the cool-aid” and pledged to do everything we could to offer a meaningful
learning experience for the 2500 students of color who came our way2; but, though many of us
had come through UCLA’s renowned teacher education program, nothing could have fully
prepared us for the dynamic and complicated endeavor that is full time teaching.
The staff also struggled with what to teach. When we were hired, our school promised
innovation, but we were subject to the same directives as any other school in the Los Angeles
Unified School District (LAUSD). That meant I was supposed to use the District’s English
Language Arts (ELA) curriculum, which claimed to be “multicultural” because it included short
stories and poems by authors of color. However, the limits of this curriculum and my neophyte
pedagogy soon manifested in what I initially characterized as student “resistance” (Warikoo &
Carter 2009, 370). I did not believe students were resisting learning, though, I just felt like they
were resisting me. While some of the students in my last class of the day - like Nora - talked over
me, played cards, and drew on desks, most students from other class periods passively withdrew
(doodling or daydreaming in class or not completing homework assignments). They did not
seem excited about our unit’s discrete short stories or poems just because some of the authors
had last names that sounded similar to their own, nor were they eager about my teaching simply
because I cared. Despite what Hollywood claimed in movies like Freedom Writers, naïve care
and effort weren’t enough.
At a slight 5’1”, with chubby freckled cheeks, I didn’t exactly dominate the classroom
space and students initially seemed skeptical about my aptitude as a teacher. Painfully aware of
2
88 percent were Latino, 11 percent were African American and 1 percent were Asian American
3
my mere 23 years, I, too, initially questioned my own ability to teach high school students,
especially those who came from a background that differed so much from my own. For all intents
and purposes, I had a fairly privileged upbringing. In contrast, my students all qualified for free
lunch, few had Internet access outside of school, and as I later found out, many had suffered
incredible tragedies (like the death or deportation of a family member and/or personal injuries,
illnesses or abuse). I knew inexperienced teachers were often ineffective, and I feared that our
cultural mismatch would place my students and me at a greater disadvantage as I attempted to
design and teach engaging lessons. Nonetheless, I hoped if I got to know the students, the
material and myself well enough, I could become a decent teacher.
But Nora had no patience for my growth process. She saw me as a naïve white girl who
was too nice and did not understand the world that she and her peers inhabited. And Nora was
right. One day when our school went on lockdown because of police activity in our
neighborhood, I spent an extra hour with my last class of the day. Nora came up and sat at the
front of the class with some of her peers. She asked me why I wanted to teach at her school. I
told her that I loved literature and thought it would be fun to teach in Los Angeles; but of course
my motivations were more complex than that. I felt drawn to Southern California’s underserved
schools because I thought that my passion and education could be put to good use here if I just
learned how to teach. I considered this silently - holding back what might come across as
patriarchal or cliché - as Nora eyed me warily. After a minute, she explained without a hint of
humor, “A lot of kids get shanked [stabbed] on their walk home from school around here and
that’s why so many kids carry knives in their shoes.” I tried to hide my shock, but I am sure she
noticed it. Then she advised with genuine concern, “Don’t walk around here by yourself, Miss.
It’s dangerous.” Her peers nodded in agreement. All I could think was, at least they cared.
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After this connection with Nora, I expected her behavior to improve. But my curriculum
did not change and nor did her impertinence. After subduing her repeated outbursts, calling
home, and meeting with the counselor, I asked that Nora be removed from my roster so the other
students could learn better; she was thus placed in another English class. Years later, this
personal failing continues to bother me. Nora deserved better and after she left, I resolved to do
what I could to improve my practice for the students who remained. The first step was tossing
away that godforsaken binder.
I had to teach something else. Our school administrators paid little heed to our lessons as
long as they aligned with the state standards and so I dreamed up a new curriculum. And as my
curricula evolved, so did my pedagogy. From the second semester of my first year, I began to
teach novels, assign responsive projects like I-Search papers3, arrange content-related fieldtrips,
and invite compelling speakers to visit class. To fund these projects, I wrote grants to Donor’s
Choose and a non-profit organization that helped support the school. Sometimes, I worked in
conjunction with my incredible colleagues and together we devised new ways to inspire and
challenge our classes.
I learned along with my colleagues and my students. Through required personal letters,
written narratives, and interactions with parents, students indirectly taught me about their lives. I
even attended a student’s birthday party and got to meet his extended family. By understanding
my students better – a key tenet of the culturally responsive teaching I aspired to develop
(Villegas 2002; Gay 2002) - I could scaffold lessons on their existing knowledge and
experiences. As a result, students began to learn more, too. They came to class, doodled less, no
longer publicly objected to my lessons, and completed assignments more regularly. Some
3
I-Search papers are a type of research paper where students identify a topic close to their own experience,
especially one that they feel might be misrepresented by public opinion, and then use both published works as well
as interviews and surveys to investigate further.
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students even wrote me notes, confessing, “You are the best teacher I ever had!” Such assertions
always ignited more pride within my chest than any other achievement.
But, the world outside the classroom still crept into it in ways that disturbed my idealism.
I fumbled when students shed tears at the loss of a loved one to gang violence, prison, illness, or
deportation; I did not know how to respond when one of my students dropped a knife on the
classroom floor; I felt overwhelmed when some struggled to read basic English phrases. The
most I could offer was genuine concern and academic support, but I did not entirely understand
the world my students inhabited. And some students still failed my classes. Teaching was hard.
After my second year, I knew I had a lot of growing to do in this profession. Nonetheless,
my Assistant Principal nominated me to be one of LAUSD’s Teachers of the Year in 2009.
When I was ultimately awarded this honor, I felt conflicted. Of course I felt pride and joy, but I
also felt incredibly inadequate and unworthy. In a district of 35,000 teachers, there must have
been thousands who better served their students than I did. To avoid feeling completely
fraudulent, I resolved to try to live up to the expectations now placed upon me by the award. No
one else was pushing me (by their accounts I was doing better than fine), but I needed to advance.
I had to explore new avenues, new activities, new projects, new texts. I had to take risks. This led
me back to Nora’s suggestion the previous year - Always Running.
An Excursion into Uncharted Curriculum
Although I grew up in Phoenix and attended a moderately diverse public high school,
multicultural literature was simply not considered part of the white male canon that
overwhelmed my secondary education. In college, I majored in English Literature, but still never
read a novel by a Latino author until I moved to L.A. It was only when I began my teacher
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preparation program at UCLA that I ventured into new bodies of literature, finding books that I
would have liked in high school - modern books with engaging human stories that moved me –
many by Latino authors and other people of color.
During my first couple of years teaching, authors like Julia Alvarez, Kahled Hosseini, Chinua
Achebe, Richard Wright, Toni Morrison and Luis Valdez graced the desks of my classroom. I
taught these along with a cadre of white authors from the traditional canon, for I knew I also had
to provide students access to the cultural capital associated with reading these “classic” texts.
Together, we journeyed into different cultural contexts, a luxury I had not been given in high
school; but I was afraid to teach something more contemporary and local, something about gangs
in L.A, something beyond my sphere of expertise - like Luis Rodriguez’s Always Running.
Based on the little I knew of Always Running, I had long ago written it off as “not my kind of
book.” I also figured the students had to confront enough gang activity outside the classroom,
that they wouldn’t want to read about it, too. But in the last two years, multiple students had
expressed their appreciation for Luis Rodriguez, explaining, “He knows and understands the
hardships we face. He’s been there and back and is an inspiration for many.” I also knew many
educators praised Always Running for its exploration of justice and personal growth; but in the
process, it seemed to have become a stereotypical “multicultural” text (which some assumed
would resonate with all students of color, even when it was not really applicable to their lives).
Finally, I sat down and read this memoir and it was intense. While Luis’ story indeed felt
captivating and powerful, he graphically described violence, drug abuse, and sexual activity. For
this reason, the book had been banned in several districts (most recently in Tucson Unified when
the Mexican American Studies program was dismantled). And while LAUSD allowed Always
Running, trepidation still punctuated my thoughts about teaching it.
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On the other hand, students expressed excitement at the sheer mention of this book; although
only a few had read it, the novel had developed quite a reputation for being a “cool” book. It
also offered critical lessons about cultural awareness and civic engagement. In my first two
years of teaching at the school, I had primarily taught the class of 2011, who would now be
juniors. In working with these students for two years, I had begun to understand their concerns
about neighborhood gang violence, family poverty, and racism. In ninth and tenth grade English,
they had related to the Kite Runner, Romeo and Juliet, and even Things Fall Apart, but these
books still seemed far removed from their present reality in contemporary Los Angeles. And
while many novels offer powerful insights into our humanity, Always Running seemed to hit a
little closer to home for my students.
Still I wondered what I could bring to a text like this. In theory, I accepted the idea that a
teacher should not pretend to be the beacon of all knowledge; sometimes it was our job to learn
along with the students. However, at the beginning of my third year of teaching, I had only
begun to play with this idea. I am not the child of immigrants, never grappled with extreme
poverty, and knew very little about “la vida loca.” The novel was out of my comfort zone, but as
I know now, this is sometimes where the most profound learning takes place.
Stretching Practice into Students’ Worlds
I first decided to teach Always Running with my ninth grade “Enhanced English” course,
which was composed of 32 teenagers who had previously scored below basic in ELA on
standardized tests and/or had an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) for a learning disability.
While most English classes were only a semester long because our school had a four-by-four
block schedule, this “intervention” course was a year-long 90-minute block. The school assigned
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Ms. N, a Resource Specialist Provider (RSP) teacher, to help the students with IEPs a few times
a week. So I felt they could handle this complex and engaging novel as an initial foray into high
school coursework.
Few English teachers actually wanted to teach ninth grade and I felt similar reluctance. Two
years earlier, I had taught yearlong ninth grade English with Nora’s peers, and had obviously
struggled to foster engagement in my lessons. But I had learned a few things since then –how to
set a serious learning culture, design more engaging lessons, and connect with students on a
deeper level - and so I resolved to set a new example. When my freshmen class first entered the
room and took their seats, I told them this class was going to be harder than most classes, but
they were here for a reason: because they could do it. And we would start by reading an 11th
grade text.
I assigned Always Running in September of 2009. Initially, I expected I might need to resort
to extreme measures (like holding students in for 10 minutes during lunch) to help everyone
complete homework, but the hype around this novel quickly sparked engagement. I watched in
awe as students who completed their nightly reading hurried into class, excitedly exclaiming, “I
can’t believe what Luis did! Did you read it?”
As we began to work through the book, I directed students back to our unit question: “What
is worth ‘fighting’ for?” The class discussed how the term “fighting” here was not a physical
action, but rather the notion of striving to overcome barriers to achieve a meaningful outcome.
Throughout the unit, I hoped that students would consider this question in light of what they
wanted to do with their lives. I did not want them to adopt a blind idealism, or “hokey hope”
(Duncan-Andrade 2009, 182) regarding the future; but I believed Luis Rodriguez’s real struggles
could illuminate the possible, as he overcame obstacles “to live a deliberate existence dedicated
9
to a future humanity which might in complete freedom achieve the realization of its creative
impulses, the totality of its potential faculties, without injustice, coercion, hunger and
exploitation” (Rodriguez 1993, 243).
During the second week, Ms. N and I wove our paths around the cooperative learning groups
and listened to each foursome discuss passages they found interesting. Although initially hesitant
when I approached, students eventually seemed to forget my presence, chatting excitedly, citing
the text, formulating connected questions and referencing their personal lives in their responses.
As I continued to walk around the room, Jose, a young man small in stature but not voice, held
up his notebook to get my attention. Before we began reading this text, Jose flat out told me that
he had never read a book. But as I now strolled towards his elevated notebook, Jose exclaimed,
“Look, Miss, I did my reflections last night! That chapter was crazy!” I knew it wasn’t just the
text that students appreciated, for a book does not teach itself. We were co-creating a learning
space that felt meaningful for us all. And Jose was proud of it.
Students directed much of our learning. Unlike past units, I did not plan out every little detail
of classroom activity (which would have been comforting in a freshmen class). Nor did I plan
lessons around the state standards, which I could only get away with because the administrators
rarely monitored the “Teacher of the Year.” Instead, I allotted at least 30 minutes a day for
unstructured textual analysis, discussion, and reflection. As Cohen (2011) suggests, this “less
clearly defined terrain” indeed seemed to result in more “complex” learning experiences for us
(45). Nonetheless, I still experienced heightened discomfort when we reached the novel’s more
graphic passages, such as Luis’ description of his first sexual tryst or account of when he shot
another man in the buttocks; these were fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds after all. However, the
students actually handled the discussion of these scenes with grace, no awkward laughter or
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snide comments. Perhaps they recognized that I took their learning very seriously and responded
in kind.
Through whole class discussion, students talked about Luis Rodriguez’s experiences with
bigotry, poverty, violence, drugs, abuse, dating, community activism, and ultimately his
liberation through writing. However, students were particularly interested in discussing how
gangs impacted Luis back then and their community now. “Did you have a lot of gangs around
you where you grew up?” One of my students asked. I had to be honest with them because as I
learned my first year in the classroom, students have a “sixth sense” for insincerity: “Not really.
So you might be able to understand more about Luis’ encounters than I can.” Students liked
knowing more than the teacher about some element of their curriculum because it reversed the
classroom’s traditional “banking” structure (Freire 1990, 58). They realized they could teach me,
too. And I was counting on them to do so.
Although students were initially hesitant to share their personal stories, they began to open
up when they established trust in their peers and in me. Building this trust required that I clearly
demonstrate critical care and commitment to their education, which I attempted to do by voicing
my confidence in each of them, dialoguing with students through monthly required letters,
calling parents when I was especially concerned about or proud of them, and simply greeting
each person at the door with a smile on my face every day. Students also had to build trust by
listening to their peers and me with respect and offering empathy and support when needed. In
class discussion, Ingrid, an outspoken girl with shoulder-length bleached hair and a flare for
fashion, admitted with a shaky voice, “My brother joined a gang and now he is in prison.” The
other students nodded in sympathy and then someone else chimed in with a similar story about a
family friend. I felt honored to be privy to such candid conversations.
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This classroom security also fostered powerful reflections about society and students’
perceptions about their position within it. Many students complained that they felt discriminated
against either because of their race, immigration status, or income-level. James, a quiet
undocumented student from Mexico, wrote, “Americans don't appreciate immigrants and they
just want to send them back... Rodriquez is treated like if this is not his country, so he doesn't
feel like he was wanted.” I couldn’t help but wonder if James felt the same way. Meanwhile,
Chris reflected on his family’s lack of formal education: “No one in my family went to college
and they don’t think it’s necessary. But I think I want to try to go. I want to be someone in life,
like Luis.” I experienced a myriad of emotions as I read students responses, but the feeling that
dominated as I fell asleep each night was fulfillment. I did not have all the answers, but I could
listen and offer support. I believed in whoever students wanted to be, as they believed in me.
By the end of the unit, almost every student had devoured the 250-page text, which according
to Jose, was no small feat. In written reflections, others admitted, “This is the first book I have
ever read.” I knew it wasn’t because they couldn’t read (though several of them had entered the
class reading well below grade level), nor was it because they were disinterested in learning; they
just had not found the right “hook.” Moreover, the Always Running unit provided a balanced mix
of engagement, support, and reflection that helped make reading more accessible. If students
mastered what Delpit (1988) calls “the codes of power,” including the tools of literacy and
academic language we practiced, then I believed they could indeed “fight” to achieve their own
personal dreams. Like Luis Rodriguez did.
Chasing the Author
I wanted to do more. When I had initially begun planning the unit with some Internet
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research, I happened to discover that Luis Rodriguez lived less than an hour away. Throughout
this unit, my students had expressed so much admiration for this man that I wanted him to speak
to them in person. After contacting Luis Rodriguez’s publisher, I discovered that for three
thousand dollars, I could bring the author to campus. It was time for me to write a large grant.
When I brought up the possibility of the author’s visit, the freshmen began chattering with
excitement and students suggested we write letters requesting him to come. One student
explained in his letter, “Even those kids who hate to read would read your book. You could also
explain to us why La Vida Loca is not a good thing.” Another student wrote:
Your book impacted me because… you go through a friend who dies in a shooting; I
remember my 2 friends who also died like that. I personally want you to come to visit us at
our school so I could ask you questions about your life and about your gang life. You
speaking to the community would help by… explaining how gangs can ruin your life and
when you want to be something in life, you have to be well educated.
These letters conveyed to me the extent to which students related to Luis Rodriguez, and their
awareness of the cultural capital associated with education. They knew they needed to acquire
certain tools to succeed and give back to their communities and they wanted to hear from the
man who did just that. A personal story on paper was inspiring, but remote enough to seem
improbable; it was much harder to deny the story of someone who told it in person.
After my freshmen wrote these letters, they composed thoughtful essays, complete with
textual citations, about whether they thought Luis Rodriguez was a hero. I constructed a graphic
organizer (see Appendix A) for the essay. Although Jose and a few of his peers still struggled
with this first “official” essay, Ms. N helped these students to construct and execute their
arguments on paper. Most students argued that Luis was a hero because although he committed
crimes in his youth, he recognized the futility of gang warfare and thus escaped “La Vida Loca”
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to work towards uniting his community through social activism, writing, and education.
None of the students idealized a life of crime and most expressed disdain for gangs,
although they recognized that people “join gangs for protection.” One of my freshmen wrote:
“although Luis had a hard life and made bad choices, he never gave up. At the end, Luis…helps
kids to stop joining gangs…he made [it] out of his gang life to do something good in life.” Their
essays served to reinforce an idea that inspired me to enter teaching: most students innately want
to meaningfully contribute to society. However, social, political, economic, and even academic
barriers often obscure their road ahead.
Although no one was monitoring whether I was actually teaching the standards, the
students successfully learned to read a complex text, write a formal essay, compose personal
narratives, and discuss with peers. Additionally, this unit helped prepare for our next novel,
which was also a memoir about a young male teen battling extreme adversity - Night by Elie
Wiesel. Though none of us had any experience with the Holocaust, students now knew how to
look for the human story behind the context. Other adults who entered my classroom marveled
at the thoughtful group of 9th grade “intervention” students working intently at their cooperative
groups. The unit and the class had far exceeded my expectations. Thus I decided, not only did I
have to use Always Running with my junior class, but after all my students’ genuine letters, I
really needed to bring the author to campus.
Pacing out a Course in Care & Listening
Once awarded the grant money for the author’s visit, I set out to teach Always Running
with my junior class. The unit I planned for them included more comprehensive lessons than
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those employed with my freshmen and would fulfill of the District’s Service Learning4
requirement in the process. The whole project hinged off the engagement and self-direction of
the students, but I knew the class of 2011 – whom I had taught before - could do it.
In February, familiar faces streamed into my room as my junior English class began. I
smiled when I saw a few students who were among the group I referred to as “my babies”
because I had taught them in English and advisory5 since their freshmen year. Angela, who had
cut her long dark brown hair into bangs that accentuated her almond-shaped brown eyes and full
cheeks, was one these students. For two and half years, she had displayed incredible confidence,
insight, and potential, but her academic record failed to convey her capabilities. She often visited
my room during lunchtime and always had a gripping story to tell; although I sometimes doubted
the truth of all her tales, I did believe her confessions about trying drugs, “hooking up” with boys,
grappling with depression, and attempting suicide. I also believed in her poetry, her advocacy
with a women’s rights organization, and her ability to lead others. However, she struggled to find
meaning in school and was thus several credits shy of being on track to graduate with her peers.
Throughout the last couple months, Angela had missed a number of her classes and because she
was already behind, my concern for her well being intensified.
About the time that junior English started, Angela found out that she was four months
pregnant. She came to talk to me about this, explaining that her parents had kicked her out.
Hiding the pain behind her eyes, she joked, “I guess I am officially a statistic now – another
pregnant Hispanic.” I offered my support and told her I knew she would get her classes done
because she had another life to take care of now. She brightened, “Thank you for seeing it that
way. I plan to stay in school no matter what.” I realized that this semester would become
4
Students had to complete a project that displayed the integration between content and service to the community.
A support class that initially met for 30 minutes daily (and later 60 minutes weekly); students have the same
teacher and peers for all four years of high school.
5
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increasingly difficult for Angela, but I recognized her strength and felt grateful to have her in my
English class when we read Always Running. The book deals with teen pregnancy, including the
author’s personal experiences with having a child at a young age. So while I felt our unit might
help Angela deal with her own experience, I also knew her critical reflection and thoughtful
candor could help us all learn to consider the novel in new ways.
“We have never read anything like this in class before!” Angela exclaimed as she clutched
her own copy of the novel when we first began. She confessed her appreciation for not “just
reading…what the standards required for us to read.” Each night, the students completed a
chapter and then wrote a reflection in their journals about it that would guide discussion. The
next day, each cooperative group would begin class by selecting a passage, which we used to
examine Rodriguez’s literary style, discuss his experiences with social barriers, and identify
universal themes. Again, fully present in that classroom every day, I did my best to meet students
where they were and relied on my heterogeneous cooperative groups to pick up where I left off.
John, a bright and energetic young man who had worn his curly brown hair at shoulder
length since I taught him freshmen year, wrote about the author, “He too is of a Latino/Hispanic
background. This makes me feel understood… I felt as if I were him at moments, having similar
problems or ordeals.” John also liked the book for its use of figurative language: “Being so
descriptive makes one feel as if they were there, seeing, feeling, smelling, and tasting what he
did.” While studying a variety of literary techniques, students developed a special appreciation
for imagery and symbolism.
Like the freshmen, this class consistently made connections between Luis Rodriguez’s
experiences and their own. Tim observed, “This school is in an area where there’s gangs all
around us and constant gang violence at times. It’s not as easy living in the world when you're of
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colored skin, whether being black or brown, you're seen as a target.” Through these personal
reflections, I came to better understand how keenly my students perceived the racial climate in
our society and their position within it. They recounted personal stories of discrimination,
sometimes confessing a subsequent disillusionment with conventional means of success. Maria,
a thoughtful and often reserved young woman, noted “Our society often judges gang members in
negative ways. The irony of it is that we do not do anything to stop, to prevent, or to understand
the reason why people become gang members.” Student insights caused everyone to reconsider
these issues, including me.
Angela became delightfully outspoken. She immediately connected to the text, so much so
that both of her parents, who had taken her back into their home, decided to read it with her.
She explained, “While reading this book, I guess my family had the curiosity to know what all
the fuss was [and] why I was so interested in it that they got some library copies and we began to
read as a family and discuss our views at the end of the week.” Many of Angela’s comments in
class started with, “when I was discussing the chapter with my family last night…” And the
other students smiled, admitting they had also recommended the book to others; and for some,
the book brought them closer to friends or family, too.
Although I had already secured the author’s visit, I kept the certainty of this a secret. I
wanted my students to feel ownership over the process; thus, I asked my juniors to write Luis
Rodriguez letters asking him to speak to the school. Noel wrote:
I've read your book "Always Running" and a few other poems that I find interesting. Your
poems speak the truth around our communities since you being classified a minority, you
know more of what we go through than anybody else. The conditions that we grow up in may
not be as similar as yours, but I can assure you that many of us students here at our school
share some common struggles… Therefore, I believe your presence here at our school may
have a positive influence towards our students and it would be a privilege having you here.
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All of the juniors’ letters joined the ones my freshmen class had composed earlier that year and I
sent the whole bundle to the author. A few weeks later, I told the students about the grant I had
written, that Mr. Rodriguez had received their letters (which he confirmed in email), and then I
announced to each class that the author would be visiting us on April 7th. Both groups of
students reacted with cheers, high fives, and ear-to-ear grins.
Multifaceted Assessments
When my juniors completed Always Running, they wrote an essay similar to the freshmen in
which they defended their ideas about Luis Rodriguez himself. Overall, students condemned
Luis’ gang involvement, but appreciated his redemption through community activism. Maria
argued, “Overall, I believe Luis j Rodriguez is a heroic person because he’s trying to make a
difference in society…Luis emphasizes any one can move forward in life despite their personal
flaws.” Maria aspired to college and perhaps law or social work, but seemed to lack confidence;
in recognizing what Luis overcame, she seemed to consider how she too could “move forward.”
In her essay, Angela focused on Rodriguez’ activism on behalf of his Chicano peers in high
school, who felt marginalized by an environment where “Spanish is prohibited.” She concluded:
“Later on Luis reflects upon this issue and begins to notice that the students aren’t the problem,
the staff and curriculum they are creating are.” In this essay, Angela highlighted the prejudice
Luis Rodriguez faced in the 1960s. Her words revealed critical insight into the ways schools
exacerbated racial tensions in Rodriguez’s youth, which she later identified as a continuing trend.
I could see this happening even at our school, which had an unusually high proportion of
culturally responsive teachers. Perhaps even I had perpetuated both pedagogy and curricula that
18
served to alienate students, at least at the beginning; but Angela’s candor assured me that my
teaching had indeed improved, due in large part to the guidance of students like her.
As the juniors finished these essays, we reviewed literary techniques as a class and then
collectively generated a list of Socratic seminar questions related to themes. Students had a night
to prepare for the seminar, which was a first for many of them. When they arrived the following
day, I asked them to assemble their desks into a large circle - no simple feat with thirty-five
students. Desks screeched across the sienna colored concrete floor and eventually formed an
uneven oblong shape. I interrupted their animated chatter to announce seminar guidelines:
students were tasked with asking the class questions from our list and formulating answers based
on their reading; no side-comments, interruptions, or raised hands; they would be graded on their
participation.
The Socratic activity began slowly, as students seemed nervous to speak up, but then John
asked a question about prejudice and Angela responded. The conversation flowed from there,
and I only interjected a few times to provoke deeper analysis or remind students to cite the text.
Students focused on the book’s relevance to their present experience in L.A. and we concluded
the seminar by considering how much had really changed in the last 40 years. “It’s the same now
as it was for Luis,” one student asserted, but others felt Los Angeles had become less “racist”
than in Luis’ days. Nonetheless, everyone agreed there were undeniable parallels between Luis
Rodriguez’s L.A. and their own. To explore this further, one student suggested that we create a
survey about the neighborhood and disseminate it to the whole school. This sounded like a great
idea to me, especially since it would coordinate well with our upcoming neighborhood research
projects, and so we had more work cut out for us.
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After the seminar concluded, I asked students to work in their cooperative groups to generate
a list of survey questions to ask their peers. Then I collected each group’s list and assembled a
final class survey based on these. Students’ questions ranged from “On a scale of 1-10, how safe
do you feel on campus?” to “Do you think racial discrimination influences people to join gangs?”
Some voiced concern that their peers wouldn’t want to answer the survey because some
questions were sensitive, like “which gangs live in the area?” Thus, we promised to keep
responses confidential and added a prize to the completion of the survey: if students wanted a
ticket to see Luis Rodriguez speak, they had to complete the survey in their advisory class and
return it to my room. The following week, 600 surveys flooded in and the class spent two days
entering survey data into spreadsheets. My husband, then a computer science doctoral student,
helped me to analyze our data, as we did not have time to do it ourselves. There was never
enough time.
I relayed our survey findings the following week. The student body felt that racial
discrimination spawned gang involvement, that this caused students to drop out of school, and
that gang violence had only increased over time. What surprised me - but not my students - was
the overall impact that gang violence had on our student body. Over a third of the respondents
confessed losing a family member or friend to gang violence and the surveys listed scores of
local gangs. While my students threw out some of the enumerated titles as mere “tagging or
party crews,” they confirmed that over 30 of the names listed by respondents were indeed viable
gang entities our area. Although only a tiny fraction of the student body was actually gang
affiliated, the presence of gangs in the community significantly impacted the way students lived.
The school’s neighborhood was rich with culture: colorful restaurants and shops, historic
buildings, renowned museums, and old family homes. However, residents of this community
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also had to deal with high rates of poverty and crime, streets peppered with trash and graffiti,
limited healthy food options, and of course, gang activity. For students’ research projects, each
cooperative group investigated a different local issue, some of which were informed by our
survey. Each member of the group had to contribute one section of the final report, which
allowed me to monitor the extent of each person’s individual and cooperative effort. Students
would also present their findings to the class and would later use their newly acquired knowledge
to contribute to a discussion with school faculty and Luis Rodriguez himself in an event I titled
the “Stakeholder Meeting.” Since Mr. Rodriguez was already making the trek to campus, he had
agreed to join us for this intimate meeting with the juniors and select school staff before his
whole school speaking engagement. When Rodriguez spoke to the school, my students would
listen; but in the stakeholder meeting, they would be ones talking.
The First of Many Finish Lines
On April 7, 2010, my Assistant Principal greeted Luis Rodriguez and led him on a tour of the
school before escorting the author to his first engagement. The juniors and school staff members
crowded into the large meeting room after the lunch bell rang, grabbing plates full of pasta, salad,
bread and fruit; they mingled before taking their seats, which were organized in a large circle. I
introduced the purpose of the event as a chance to openly discuss student concerns about the
school and neighborhood with staff who might be able to help address these on campus. Then I
introduced Luis Rodriguez, who wore his salt-and-pepper hair short with a thin white goatee
enhancing his cheerful expression. “This is our guest of honor, who not only inspired my
students’ research, but might also offer some of his expertise to help us improve our school.”
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Staring at a room filled with adults - including an author whom they idolized - some students
initially hesitated to talk. John remembered, “When we had the ‘meet and greet,’ the class was
full of energy…ready to ask questions. I, timid, really didn’t say much…but it was a great honor
to finally meet someone who changed their life around from being a ‘street thug’ to a respected
author.” John didn’t add as much to the dialogue as he usually did in class, but after a few other
teachers baited the whole group with questions, my other students’ verbal contributions began to
flow. Angela’s swelling belly attracted a few sideways glances from the adults; nonetheless, she
was one of the most vocal students in the room, condemning violence on campus and imploring
teachers to treat all students with respect, “even when they’re having a bad day.” Incorporating
their research findings into the dialogue, my students discussed campus safety, classroom
management, family involvement, and school food. Their thoughtful comments impressed the
adults in attendance, including the author. He later wrote in an email, “The students were
wonderful. You can never underestimate young people.”
A few staff members approached me after we concluded and I thanked everyone for
attending. A teacher inquired, “These are your AP students, right?” I shook my head no. “An
honors class?” Again, I indicated they were not. The adults exchanged incredulous looks. “Well
then, they are your superstars,” an administrator interjected. I smiled; they were superstars who
could do anything if they felt passionate about it. And now it was their time to help coordinate
the school wide speaking event.
The juniors moved toward the auditorium and quickly occupied their roles, taking tickets,
snapping photos, and serving as ushers - thereby completing the last pieces of their servicelearning requirement. The crowds assembled quickly and my juniors proudly kept order. Quite a
few parents filed into a special section we had organized for them and a translator was preparing
22
to interpret the speech for Spanish speakers. Students clad in sky blue, grey, and black (the
colors of our school’s uniform) occupied most of the seats. When the auditorium doors swung
shut and every seat was filled, I stepped up to the podium; my students cheered loudly as I
blushed and quickly recovered to introduce Luis Rodriguez. Then the man himself, dressed in a
dark brown, short-sleeved, button-up shirt and brown slacks, calmly strolled up to the
microphone and immediately captured the attention of the large audience.
I have never seen the student body as engaged as they were when Mr. Rodriguez spoke.
Their eyes grew wide as he candidly discussed immigration, gang activity, socio-economic
struggles, domestic abuse, drug use, and rising above all of it through writing and social activism.
Booming roars and applause repeatedly erupted across the wooden walls as he continued,
unfazed by the ebullient response. As one of my students later reported in the school paper, Luis
Rodriguez “explained the five ‘empties’ that compel students to join gangs: ‘hopelessness,
helplessness, restlessness, meaninglessness, and real power.’” But Rodriguez also offered them
an alternative: finding personal meaning. The Always Running unit had reinforced the profound
meaning I derived from teaching and I hoped Rodriguez’s speech would help inspire students to
discover their equivalent.
The author read a couple of his poems and even shared a few very sensitive personal
anecdotes about his early mistakes in fatherhood and his difficult relationship with his mother.
This endeared him to the audience, who immediately felt they knew him. Rodriguez concluded
that in life, family matters and so does standing up for what is right. When he took his leave from
the stage, cheers exploded across the auditorium and many stayed after to have the author sign
their novels. His words spoke to the students because his struggles reflected many of theirs, and
as some remarked afterwards, “He was real with us.”
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Catching Our Breath to Reflect
This was but one meaningful race in all of our lives. My freshmen practically ran into class
the next day, comparing notes about the event and naming friends who had already asked about
Always Running. Meanwhile, my juniors displayed a calm pride and wrote in their daily warmup that the event had definitely touched them more than they even expected. John wrote:
“Everything that Luis Rodriguez has experienced made me realize that if he could go through all
this, any other person could, too. From being an “ex gang-banger” to a well-educated (selftaught) author, is a major accomplishment for anybody...I was impacted by his words.”
My advisory student Danielle handed me a note the following day. She wrote: “The Luis
Rodriguez event was a complete success. Hearing his speech was truly great and inspiring. I
realized many things…His speech also brought out ‘my calling.’ I now know I want to be an
English teacher, just like you.” Pride swelled in my chest and tears threatened to fall; as a patient,
bright, and gregarious leader, Danielle would be a natural.
The impact of Luis Rodriguez’s speech expanded beyond my classes. Unfamiliar students
sought me out to thank me for bringing the author to campus and it took several days before the
buzz surrounding his appearance finally dissolved. Teenagers who had never read a book before
acquired a copy of Always Running - because it seemed relevant to their lives - and began a
journey into literature.
When my school days returned to “normal,” I found myself utterly exhausted. With three
different classes to plan for (AP Literature, English 9, and English 11) and numerous papers to
grade each week, I had struggled to orchestrate the big event. Like students, teachers often seem
to be always running. And so I took a sick day to recuperate. However, the students - who now
seemed more energized and enthusiastic about their work - quickly revived me.
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The state’s budget crisis imposed a week of furlough days on the teachers, who then had to
cram content into each class session to complete their final units. Thus, the year quickly melted
away, but Luis Rodriguez’s visit seemed to leave its own lasting impression on the hearts and
minds of my students; it humanized the text and further validated their personal experience
reading it.
The Next Heat
Throughout the unit, my juniors displayed proficiency in reading complex literary and
expository texts, writing, listening, speaking, researching, and planning a large event; the
freshmen cultivated similar skills. Developing these academic competencies prepared the juniors
for our analysis of Julia Alvarez’ In the Time of the Butterflies, Arthur Miller’s The Crucible,
short works by Thoreau and one of five literature circle novels from The Things They Carried to
The Scarlet Letter. Almost all of my students passed 11th grade English with pride.
In their senior year, I had the opportunity to teach many of my juniors again, some for AP
Literature, and they continued to prove they could handle college level work. The skills and the
memories of the unit endured. A year later, Angela remembered Always Running:
At the time, I was dealing with my own problems as I was pregnant with my son and
everyone in my family was having a hard time dealing with it :( but I look back now and this
book will forever remind and help me with how to be open [and] be aware of all my actions
and what they will bring me. Mr. Rodriguez had written this book for his son who was
imprisoned at a young age to show his son and teach him and other young people that gangs
are not always the way, so I can…maybe put this to use when my son grows up.
Luis Rodriguez’s words resonated with Angela and many others on a deep level; but what will
likely remain with the students even longer than his story are the competencies that they
25
developed throughout the unit. The tools of critical thinking, academic literacy, metacognitive
reflection, and cooperation will help students fulfill their own quests for meaning.
Approximately 90 percent of the juniors in this class graduated on time with their peers,
including Angela and John. Thanks to the other excellent teachers on campus, Nora graduated on
time, too, and our school boasted an 80 percent graduation rate for class of 2011, which far
exceeded the District’s average of 62 percent. At graduation, students strutted across the stage
proudly and I had the distinct honor of delivering diplomas to “my babies.” They were ready for
their next adventure and for most of them, this meant college.
Venturing out for the Future
As I reflect upon my teaching career, I am most proud of the Always Running unit. The
unit’s success did not result from simply teaching a “multicultural” book; for even though Nora
suggested this text, she taught me that superficial multiculturalism and naïve care are not enough.
Curricula certainly matter and should wherever possible reflect the students - which is why my
home state’s ethnic studies ban deeply saddens me – but I knew this unit’s success was about
more than that. The year after I taught Always Running, I had a student teacher who attempted to
use the memoir with a small freshman honors class and it did not go well. There was something
different about my experience, something that made it special for the students and me; bringing
the author to campus certainly helped, but I think it had more to do with pedagogy. We utilized a
text to discover ourselves – we read, they wrote, I listened, they talked, we all genuinely cared,
and I was able to personally connect with sixty-two incredible adolescents while they
contemplated what they wanted out of life. My classroom became like a home, where I saw
students as their best selves - rather than as representations of a particular race, class, or age - and
26
they became like family. Although I don’t presume to have ever completely lived up to the title
of Teacher of the Year, teaching remains my greatest source of fulfillment.
As the class of 2011 moved on from high school, I left the classroom. After receiving my
second Reduction in Force (RIF) termination notice6, I chose to begin a doctoral program in
Educational Policy at Harvard. Facing uncertain employment, many of my colleagues - who had
helped to open the school with me - also left. In turn, I resolved to study this flawed system in
the hope of exposing troubling trends and identifying hopeful reforms. So far, though, this
endeavor has proved humbling, tedious, and rarely gratifying. I keep in touch with most of my
students, but I still miss the deep personal meaning that I derived from a day’s work in the
classroom. Truly, I learned a great deal more, at least about humanity, there than I do at Harvard.
But in my new context, I have the luxury to reflect upon my experience. I can now see that
teachers should take risks, but always remain genuine; truly love the beautiful human spirits
entrusted in their care; and be honored to help support a student’s realization of his/her dreams,
as they rediscover their own. Teaching is the hardest job I can imagine, but it is also the most
rewarding and someday I will return to this meaningful vocation.
6
RIFs are generally distributed in reverse seniority order in district budget crises. These were a common occurrence
in LAUSD from 2009-2012.
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References
Cohen, David. 2011. Teaching and its Predicaments. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Delpit, Lisa. 1988. “The Silenced Dialogue Review: Power and Pedagogy in Educating Other
People’s Children.” Harvard Educational Review 58 (3): 280–298.
Duncan-Andrade, Jeffery. 2009. "Note to Educators: Hope Required When Growing
Roses in Concrete." Harvard Educational Review 79 (2): 181-194.
Freire, Paulo. 1990. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: The Continuum International
Publishing Group Inc.
Gay, Geneva. 2002. “Preparing for Culturally Responsive Teaching.” Journal of Teacher
Education, 53(2), 106-116.
Rodriguez, Luis. 1993. Always Running: La Vida Loca, Gang Days in L.A. Willimantic, CT:
Curbstone Press.
Villegas, Anna Maria and Tamara Lucas. 2002. “Preparing Culturally Responsive Teachers:
Rethinking the Curriculum.” Journal of Teacher Education, 53(1), 20-32.
Warikoo, Natasha and Prudence Carter. 2009. “Cultural Explanations for Racial and Ethnic
Stratification in Academic Achievement: A Call for a New and Improved Theory.”
Review of Educational Research 79 (1): 366-394.
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Appendix A
Always Running Essay
After having read Always Running, do you believe Luis Rodriguez can be considered a heroic character? Did he do more
to help or hurt society? Consider his family and neighborhood, flaws and strengths, his poor choices and his wisdom, his
arrests and his help for others, his early problems with school and his later leadership in ToHMAS, and thus his character
as a whole. Select three of his traits and then analyze these in a standard 5-paragraph essay. You are trying to prove your
point, so make sure to include a counter-argument that acknowledges his other side at some point in the essay. You must
have a clear thesis, AT LEAST 3 direct quotations (one per body paragraph), use 3 new vocabulary words from the book,
and give thorough explanations. Good luck!
1) Thesis:
2) Positive Trait
3) Another positive
trait
4) One of his
mistakes/weaknesses
Quote that displays this trait (make sure to
include page #)
What this quote means & why it
matters
Quote that displays this trait
What this quote means & why it
matters
A quote that reveals this shortcoming
5) Does Luis Rodriguez make up for his error? If so, how?
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What this quote means & why it
matters
30