Teaching Inside: The Power of Queen High Empress of Words, Dr. Maya Angelou

Erin Corbett
Jul 30, 2017 · 6 min read
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Dr. Maya Angelou (RIP) is like the grandmother we remember fondly because every time you were in her presence, she helped you see and recognize the best possible version of yourself. In her absence, you comfort yourself with the way that recognition made you feel while she was on this earth and hope that you can share her joy, through you, as a living memory. Her vibrance came from her brutal, heart wrenching honesty and the way in which she openly, transparently, and lovingly talked about her early childhood pain and trauma(s); her life was one filled with love, pain, and redemption and the lessons she learned, and consequently shared through her writing, should encourage us all to strive to be better humans.

It is for this reason, this extensive reach of Dr Angelou, that I had my students read I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I deliberately took two class sessions to prep the guys for what I knew would be a difficult read, and not because of extensive vocabulary (Morrison) or strategic use of the comma (Baldwin). I knew it would be difficult because Dr. Angelou honestly describes the traumas she experienced at 7.5 and that’s a difficult read for anyone. Last week, we looked at a series of quotations from Iyanla Vanzant’s In the Meantime in order to work through what it means to do work “in your house” while you are “in the meantime” and, more importantly, recognizing when one is “in the meantime” and acknowledging the feelings and emotions we never knew were buried in “the basement.” In that class, the guys shared some very personal information for which I am extraordinarily thankful and we were able to talk about how those feelings and emotions and experiences may make them feel when they, finally, read Dr. Angelou’s work.

This past week, during the Wednesday class, we talked about the autobiography as literary device and had a great conversation about its strengths and limitations. We talked about the autobiographies the guys had read, including Up From Slavery, which we covered in class, and, more popularly, The Autobiography of Malcolm X. The autobiography is well known for being able to bring the reader into the thought process of the author; it is in this way that the autobiography has most of its power. You are forced, in many ways, to relate to, and root for, the protagonist as s/he experiences the ups and downs of life. The guys noted that the limitations of this great literary device included, most saliently for them, the one-sided nature. When one reads an autobiography, you are privy only to the author’s point of view and, thus, are receiving a lopsided account of (their) history. As we left class Wednesday night, I reminded the guys to remember the exercise about hidden feelings and emotions as well as the strengths and limitations of the autobiography as they read Dr. Angelou’s piece.

Friday, the guys walked into class with a seriousness I hadn’t really seen before. Usually they are boisterous, with an almost frenetic energy to debate, agree, disagree, and challenge. This was not the case in this particular class. I had 4 of my usual 8 guys; 1 was absent, 2 have been released, and 1 was removed from the facility, so I had a small group. One student had read past the assigned amount, 2 had read up to the assigned amount, and 1 was behind. The student who was behind is also involved in about 15,000 other programs, and is leading one of the newer ones to soon launch in the facility, but he had an idea of what was going on.

One of the students, who usually has an off-color joke to lighten somber moods, was unusually quiet and reflective. As we were discussing each chapter, and the important themes and notes, he said, a couple of times, “It just doesn’t get better,” to which the student who was ahead of everyone said, “Nope. It sure doesn’t.” And when we got to the chapters where Dr. Angelou chronicled her abuse, the mood grew even worse until one of the older guys, who only speaks when he has something profound to say, said “But, out of all this, she emerged as one who continued to love.” From this comment, we began a conversation about how Dr. Angelou writes about her trauma from a place of self-reflection, introspection, and transparency and how she notes — contrary to what we might think would be a “normal” response — that not knowing what was happening to her was part and parcel of how she, initially, sought Mr. Freeman’s attention and affection. At first, the guys struggled with her reaction, not understanding how she could not immediately hate this man. But we reviewed the different aspects of Dr. Angelou’s psyche at the time, highlighting her low self-esteem, her desire to be white (sometimes I feel like we should read The Bluest Eye), her feelings of abandonment, and her desire — as is every child’s desire — to be loved.

These guys. So, I am far past the “Wow” factor. I am well aware that the folks I teach inside are brilliant. But I also recognize that I am teaching men, who live side by side with other men, where vulnerability and sensitivity are not encouraged. Caged Bird is the first book we’ve read, thus far, where both author and protagonist are females and, honestly, I was worried that there might be a disconnect. They’ve related inordinately well to Du Bois, Washington, Baldwin, and Morrison (because, Milkman) and I didn’t know if this powerful a story, from the vantage point of a young girl through the lens of an older, reflective woman, would resonate similarly. And it did.

But of course it did and when I left, I had to check myself and my assumptions — again — about what my students are willing to understand and engage with. One student has a daughter and, after reading about Dr. Angelou’s relationship with her brother, Bailey, where she calls him “her Kingdom Come,” said he hopes that his daughter will eventually see him that way. This same student, as well as a couple of others, said they had to put the book down a couple of times before they were able to continue/finish because, as the other guy stated, “It just didn’t get better.” All of the guys — well, those who had not read ahead (their assigned reading was through p.76 which is the end of Chapter 11) — were VERY concerned with what, ultimately, would happen to Mr. Freeman and hoped that, uh, Maya received justice. One student said “I found myself wanting to lay hands on dude,” before he remembered that this all had happened in the past and he was left to just read what eventually happened. For some, there was a slight feeling of helplessness; they saw young Dr. Angelou as a child needing saving and they felt bad not being able to help her. And it was touching, though not surprising, to see them concerned about whether she was/would be avenged.

While I am glad that I took a couple of classes to do the background/emotional prep for this book, I am also glad that I teach guys capable of engaging with emotionally charged literature in ways to which they may not be accustomed. They are now asking more critical questions, instinctively and intuitively referencing specific parts of the text, and simply engaging in a level of intellectual inquiry that feeds their spirits.

And I am so here for all of it.

Educator. Doctor of Words. Compassionate Activist. Black Woman. Dog Owner. Netflix n Chiller.

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