Sometimes, you just have to cry…
It was a difficult week. Once again I find myself at the center of school reform in my professional life. I won’t go into a lot of detail, but car issues have affected my transportation choices on and off this summer, and last week brought more troubles. When a friend asked a group of us to accompany her to see the movie “Fruitvale Station” I said sure, because when one is experiencing a life filled with “first-world” troubles, you need some perspective. I’m glad I went although it was a truly bittersweet experience for a number of reasons.
Going “home”…
Prior to moving to Sacramento, I had lived in Oakland, California for around 15 years. Our son was born there, and I had transitioned to and started my teaching career there. The movie did an excellent job catching the vibe of that place, and it truly was like going back for a family reunion where there are changes, but the basics stay the same. Oakland in the post-war had an extreme case of white-flight, became an African-American plurality city. Then as gentrification and immigration increased in the 1980s and 90s black plurality dropped to 27% and it’s not pretty much an “all minority city” (the other large ethnic/racial groups are ~20-25%). This made for a place where other non-white groups often mixed a
