There are more than 500 federally recognized tribal nations in the United States today, each with distinct systems of governance, languages, locations, material cultures, religions, and, of course, stories!

English language arts provides a space for Black women and girls to express themselves or to find solace in the shared lived experiences of Black women and girls. However, this is impossible if the texts used to ed-ucate Black women and girls are void of their lived experiences, beliefs, and cultural norms.

Black women writ-ers and poets, including Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and Toni Morrison’s Be-loved,provide Black female students a purview into the narratives of pain, restoration, and Black suffer-ing from the voices of Black women.

Testimony, Witness, and Trauma as a Lens on Healing

more than simply passing up a missed pedagogical opportunity. Rather, not discussing the social fallout after the election is an act of denying the full humanity of students in schools.

was characterized by some of his teachers as a disengaged learner and a “struggling” writer, created and maintained three websites and blogs each day. From his bedroom to his neighborhood streets, he wrote and composed music lyrics, uploaded audio files, and directed music videos.

Becoming the kind of teacher I wanted to become meant banging my head against the wall of the wrong choices I continued to make about teaching literature and writing.

My error—and the error of the department that hired me—was to see these students as “disadvantaged” instead of seeing their brilliance.

The closest we came to real reading was giving them books, then reading out loud to them. They rebelled. They hated the class. They didn’t come or they acted up when they attended. They didn’t do the work. I said things like, “These kids just don’t want to learn” and “These kids don’t care about their education.”

Voices from the Middle■ volume 24■ number 3■ march 201716Critical Literacy and Our Students’ LivesLinda ChristensenIreceived the US West Outstanding Teacher of the Western United States award in 1990. I treasured the award, not because I was the best teacher, but because after fifteen years in the classroom with two children at home, I was tired. The award came with a sabbatical. But it also came with humiliation and outrage. First, the award itself was boastful. I was a good teacher, but the best? No way. I wasn’t even the best in my school much less the entire western United States. But I was the one who had applied, pulled together a résumé with the help of my colleagues, and apparently answered their questions in the right way No one who gave me the award even watched me teach. So I felt pompous and overreaching with the title. But the worst part came later when my photo appeared in the local paper stating that I taught “disadvantaged” students.