The NYCCRHP is full of sources that document how Black, Latinx, and disabled New Yorkers and those working in solidarity with them have imagined and pursued educational justice. The NYCCRHP helps teach the Civil Rights Movement in new ways: with women and young people’s activism in education as central, with evidence of how segregation and inequality are national, not only Southern, realities, and by exploring how racism and ableism have intersected in education.

The site offers texts and videos that support teachers in using these materials in the classroom, alongside sample lesson plans that teachers can adapt to their own context. It features six close reading videos that capture how readers engage with primary sources and reflect on their meanings in their own lives.

Thematic Teaching Collections

The NYCCRHP presents the history of educational activism in NYC through collections of archival documents, photographs, videos, oral history snippets, and more — in the following themes:

• • Black and Latina Women’s Educational Activism
  • Boycotting New York’s Segregated Schools
  • Joyful Struggle
  • Seeking Equity for Disabled Students
  • Who Governs NYC Schools?
  • How did New York City Segregate its Schools? (in development)

Background

In the course of their activism for educational justice, Nelly Luna and other youth organizers in New York City’s Teens Take Charge came to realize that they students and teachers needed to learn about the roots of racism and ableism in their schools. And they deserved access to the rich record of how Black, Latinx, and disabled people and those working in solidarity with them have fought for educational justice in New York City.

Project team member Nelly Luna in dialogue with parent organizer Kaliris Salas-Ramirez and historian Dominique Jean-Louis.

Luna and fellow activists reached out to Zinn Education Project collaborator Jeanne Theoharis. They read and discussed her book, A More Beautiful and Terrible History, which inspired them to learn more. They connected with historians and teacher-educators Ansley Erickson and Brian Jones. With disability activist and developer Jessica Murray, they formed a working group to explore how activists, scholars, educators, and web developers could work together to put histories of local educational activism in teachers’ and students’ hands.

New York City Civil Rights History Project is the product of four years of collaborative work that expanded to include dozens of educators, community activists, and scholars.

At a project launch in November, New York City Council Member and Education Committee Chair Rita Joseph, a “forever educator,” spoke of a “fundamental truth”: “In every corner of our community” Black and Latina women education activists “have been architects of change, tirelessly working to dismantle barriers . . . Their stories must be woven into the curriculum, inspiring students to dream big and achieve greatness.”

Sign Up for Project Updates

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In Ten Myths About Israel, Israeli historian Ilan Pappe examines the most contested ideas concerning the origins and identity of the contemporary state of Israel.

The “ten myths” include:

1. Palestine was an empty land

2. The Jews were a people without a land

3. Zionism is Judaism

4. Zionism is not colonialism

5. The Palestinians voluntarily left their homeland in 1948

6. The June 1967 war was a war of ‘No Choice’

7. Israel is the only democracy in the Middle East

8. The Oslo Mythologies

9. The Gaza Mythologies

10. The Two-States Solution is the only way forward

Here is an excerpt from the introduction,

History lies at the core of every conflict. A true and unbiased understanding of the past offers the possibility of peace. The distortion or manipulation of history, in contrast, will only sow disaster.

As the example of the Israel-Palestine conflict shows, historical disinformation, even of the most recent past, can do tremendous harm.  This willful misunderstanding of history can promote oppression and protect a regime of colonization and occupation.  It is not surprising, therefore, that policies of disinformation continue to the present and play an important part in perpetuating the conflict, leave very little hope for the future.

Constructed fallacies about the past and the present in Israel and Palestine hinder us from undertanding the origins of the conflict. Meanwhile, the constant manipulation of the relevant facts work against the interests of all those victimized by the ongoing bloodshed and violence. What is to be done?

The Zionist historical account of how the disputed land became the state of Israel is based on a cluster of myths that subtly cast doubt on the Palestinians’ moral right to the land. .  .

This book challenges these myths, which appear in the public domain as indisputable truths.  These statements are, to my eyes, distortions and fabrications that can — and must — be refuted through a closer examination of the historical record.”

This is not a balanced book; it is yet another attempt to redress the balance of power on behalf of the colonized, occupied and oppressed Palestinians in the land of Israel and Palestine. It would be a real bonus if advocates of Zionism or loyal supporters of Israel were also willing to engage with the arguments herein.  After all, the book is written by an Israeli Jew who cares about his own society as much as he does the Palestinian one. Refuting mythologies that sustain injustice should be of benefit to everyone living in the country or wishing to live there. It forms a basis on which all its inhabitants might enjoy the great achievements that only one privileged group currently has access to.

Read a detailed description in this review in Mondoweiss.

Free e-book from Verso.

Verso Books | 9781786630193

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Now, artist Nate Powell — the first cartoonist ever to win a National Book Award — has adapted Loewen’s classic work into a graphic edition that captures both Loewen’s text and the irreverent spirit of his work. These illustrations bring to life the true history chronicled in Lies My Teacher Told Me, and ample text boxes and callouts ensure nothing is lost in translation. [Adapted from publishers’ description.]

ISBN: 9781620977033 | New Press

The post Lies My Teacher Told Me: A Graphic Adaptation appeared first on Zinn Education Project.

Beginning with a look at Christopher Columbus’s arrival through the eyes of the Arawak Indians, then leading the reader through the struggles for workers’ rights, women’s rights, and civil rights during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and ending with the current protests against continued U.S. imperialism. [Publisher’s description.]

ISBN: 9781644213032 | Triangle Square

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Throughout her life, she fought for the oppressed, not only through changing laws, but by using her powerful prose to influence those who could affect change. She lived by her convictions and challenged authority to demand fairness and justice regardless of the personal consequences. Without seeking acknowledgment, glory, or financial gain for what she did, Pauli Murray fought in the trenches for many of the rights we take for granted. Her goal was human rights and the dignity of life for all. [Adapted from publisher’s description.]

ISBN: 9781499812510 | Yellow Jacket

Pauli Murray was brilliant, outspoken, and committed to achieving dignity and equality for all under the law. Rising from poverty, Murray challenged pervasive race and sex discrimination and helped launch the two most important movements of the Twentieth Century: civil rights and women’s rights. This new biography capsulizes important events and accomplishments of an iconoclast who would not take ‘No’ for an answer. Young readers will be drawn to the story of Pauli’s bravery and pivotal role in history.  —Christian F. Nunes, President, National Organization for Women

This inspiring biography in verse aims to promote the life and work of the lesser-known yet influential Black civil rights activist and feminist. —Booklist Reviews

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By Bill Bigelow

My 11th grade students at Portland’s Franklin High School were captivated by the young people in Promises.

The film entered them into the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians with greater intimacy than other parts of my Israel-Palestine curriculum. I wanted to take advantage of how well students felt they knew Moishe, Faraj, Daniel & Yarko, Shlomo, Mahmoud, and Sanabel, the youngsters whose families they had spent time with while watching Promises.

The premise of this role play is that the youngsters in Promises have grown up. In small groups, students attempt to take on the personas of the Promises young people and to wrestle with some of the actual questions that confront anyone hoping to achieve a lasting peace in Palestine-Israel.

The lesson is available to download for free on the link below. It includes a teaching guide, “A Roadmap to Peace?” handout, and roles based on the young people in the film. 

The post A Roadmap to Peace?: <i>Promises</i> Documentary Lesson appeared first on Zinn Education Project.

We share some of those letters here, followed by questions by Bill Bigelow for discussion in high school classrooms.

February 7, 2003

Hi friends and family, and others,

Portrait by Robert Shetterly, Americans Who Tell the Truth

I have been in Palestine for two weeks and one hour now, and I still have very few words to describe what I see. It is most difficult for me to think about what’s going on here when I sit down to write back to the United States. Something about the virtual portal into luxury. I don’t know if many of the children here have ever existed without tank-shell holes in their walls and the towers of an occupying army surveying them constantly from the near horizons. I think, although I’m not entirely sure, that even the smallest of these children understand that life is not like this everywhere. An 8-year-old was shot and killed by an Israeli tank two days before I got here, and many of the children murmur his name to me — Ali — or point at the posters of him on the walls. The children also love to get me to practice my limited Arabic by asking me, “Kaif Sharon?” “Kaif Bush?” and they laugh when I say, “Bush Majnoon,” “Sharon Majnoon” back in my limited Arabic. (How is Sharon? How is Bush? Bush is crazy. Sharon is crazy.) Of course, this isn’t quite what I believe, and some of the adults who have the English correct me: “Bush mish Majnoon” . . .  Bush is a businessman. Today I tried to learn to say, “Bush is a tool,” but I don’t think it translated quite right. But anyway, there are 8-year-olds here much more aware of the workings of the global power structure than I was just a few years ago.

Nevertheless, no amount of reading, attendance at conferences, documentary viewing and word of mouth could have prepared me for the reality of the situation here. You just can’t imagine it unless you see it — and even then you are always well aware that your experience of it is not at all the reality: what with the difficulties the Israeli army would face if they shot an unarmed U.S. citizen, and with the fact that I have money to buy water when the army destroys wells, and the fact, of course, that I have the option of leaving. Nobody in my family has been shot, driving in their car, by a rocket launcher from a tower at the end of a major street in my hometown. I have a home. I am allowed to go see the ocean. When I leave for school or work I can be relatively certain that there will not be a heavily armed soldier waiting halfway between Mud Bay and downtown Olympia at a checkpoint with the power to decide whether I can go about my business, and whether I can get home again when I’m done. As an afterthought to all this rambling, I am in Rafah: a city of about 140,000 people, approximately 60 percent of whom are refugees — many of whom are twice or three times refugees. Today, as I walked on top of the rubble where homes once stood, Egyptian soldiers called to me from the other side of the border, “Go! Go!” because a tank was coming. And then waving and “What’s your name?” Something disturbing about this friendly curiosity. It reminded me of how much, to some degree, we are all kids curious about other kids. Egyptian kids shouting at strange women wandering into the path of tanks. Palestinian kids shot from the tanks when they peek out from behind walls to see what’s going on. International kids standing in front of tanks with banners. Israeli kids in the tanks anonymously — occasionally shouting and also occasionally waving — many forced to be here, many just aggressive — shooting into the houses as we wander away.

I’ve been having trouble accessing news about the outside world here, but I hear an escalation of war on Iraq is inevitable. There is a great deal of concern here about the “reoccupation of Gaza.” Gaza is reoccupied every day to various extents but I think the fear is that the tanks will enter all the streets and remain here instead of entering some of the streets and then withdrawing after some hours or days to observe and shoot from the edges of the communities. If people aren’t already thinking about the consequences of this war for the people of the entire region then I hope you will start.

My love to everyone. My love to my mom. My love to smooch. My love to fg and barnhair and sesamees and Lincoln School. My love to Olympia.

Rachel

This Feb. 7 letter was read aloud in 2005 by Rachel’s mother, Cindy Corrie. There is also a recording of the letter read by Alice Walker.

Mama,

Now the Israeli army has actually dug up the road to Gaza, and both of the major checkpoints are closed. This means that Palestinians who want to go and register for their next quarter at university can’t. People can’t get to their jobs and those who are trapped on the other side can’t get home; and internationals, who have a meeting tomorrow in the West Bank, won’t make it. We could probably make it through if we made serious use of our international white person privilege, but that would also mean some risk of arrest and deportation, even though none of us has done anything illegal.

The Gaza Strip is divided in thirds now. There is some talk about the “reoccupation of Gaza,” but I seriously doubt this will happen, because I think it would be a geopolitically stupid move for Israel right now. I think the more likely thing is an increase in smaller below-the-international-outcry-radar incursions and possibly the oft-hinted “population transfer.”

I am staying put in Rafah for now, no plans to head north. I still feel like I’m relatively safe and think that my most likely risk in case of a larger-scale incursion is arrest. A move to reoccupy Gaza would generate a much larger outcry than Sharon’s assassination-during-peace-negotiations/land grab strategy, which is working very well now to create settlements all over, slowly but surely eliminating any meaningful possibility for Palestinian self-determination. Know that I have a lot of very nice Palestinians looking after me. I have a small flu bug, and got some very nice lemony drinks to cure me. Also, the woman who keeps the key for the well where we still sleep keeps asking me about you. She doesn’t speak a bit of English, but she asks about my mom pretty frequently — wants to make sure I’m calling you.

Love to you and Dad and Sarah and Chris and everybody.

Rachel

February 27, 2003

(To her mother)

Love you. Really miss you. I have bad nightmares about tanks and bulldozers outside our house and you and me inside. Sometimes the adrenaline acts as an anesthetic for weeks and then in the evening or at night it just hits me again — a little bit of the reality of the situation. I am really scared for the people here. Yesterday, I watched a father lead his two tiny children, holding his hands, out into the sight of tanks and a sniper tower and bulldozers and Jeeps because he thought his house was going to be exploded. Jenny and I stayed in the house with several women and two small babies. It was our mistake in translation that caused him to think it was his house that was being exploded. In fact, the Israeli army was in the process of detonating an explosive in the ground nearby — one that appears to have been planted by Palestinian resistance.

This is in the area where Sunday about 150 men were rounded up and contained outside the settlement with gunfire over their heads and around them, while tanks and bulldozers destroyed 25 greenhouses — the livelihoods for 300 people. The explosive was right in front of the greenhouses — right in the point of entry for tanks that might come back again. I was terrified to think that this man felt it was less of a risk to walk out in view of the tanks with his kids than to stay in his house. I was really scared that they were all going to be shot and I tried to stand between them and the tank. This happens every day, but just this father walking out with his two little kids just looking very sad, just happened to get my attention more at this particular moment, probably because I felt it was our translation problems that made him leave.

I thought a lot about what you said on the phone about Palestinian violence not helping the situation. Sixty thousand workers from Rafah worked in Israel two years ago. Now only 600 can go to Israel for jobs. Of these 600, many have moved, because the three checkpoints between here and Ashkelon (the closest city in Israel) make what used to be a 40-minute drive, now a 12-hour or impassible journey. In addition, what Rafah identified in 1999 as sources of economic growth are all completely destroyed — the Gaza international airport (runways demolished, totally closed); the border for trade with Egypt (now with a giant Israeli sniper tower in the middle of the crossing); access to the ocean (completely cut off in the last two years by a checkpoint and the Gush Katif settlement). The count of homes destroyed in Rafah since the beginning of this intifada is up around 600, by and large people with no connection to the resistance but who happen to live along the border. I think it is maybe official now that Rafah is the poorest place in the world. There used to be a middle class here — recently. We also get reports that in the past, Gazan flower shipments to Europe were delayed for two weeks at the Erez crossing for security inspections. You can imagine the value of two-week-old cut flowers in the European market, so that market dried up. And then the bulldozers come and take out people’s vegetable farms and gardens. What is left for people? Tell me if you can think of anything. I can’t.

If any of us had our lives and welfare completely strangled, lived with children in a shrinking place where we knew, because of previous experience, that soldiers and tanks and bulldozers could come for us at any moment and destroy all the greenhouses that we had been cultivating for however long, and did this while some of us were beaten and held captive with 149 other people for several hours — do you think we might try to use somewhat violent means to protect whatever fragments remained? I think about this especially when I see orchards and greenhouses and fruit trees destroyed — just years of care and cultivation. I think about you and how long it takes to make things grow and what a labor of love it is. I really think, in a similar situation, most people would defend themselves as best they could. I think Uncle Craig would. I think probably Grandma would. I think I would.

You asked me about non-violent resistance.

When that explosive detonated yesterday it broke all the windows in the family’s house. I was in the process of being served tea and playing with the two small babies. I’m having a hard time right now. Just feel sick to my stomach a lot from being doted on all the time, very sweetly, by people who are facing doom. I know that from the United States, it all sounds like hyperbole. Honestly, a lot of the time the sheer kindness of the people here, coupled with the overwhelming evidence of the willful destruction of their lives, makes it seem unreal to me. I really can’t believe that something like this can happen in the world without a bigger outcry about it. It really hurts me, again, like it has hurt me in the past, to witness how awful we can allow the world to be. I felt after talking to you that maybe you didn’t completely believe me. I think it’s actually good if you don’t, because I do believe pretty much above all else in the importance of independent critical thinking. And I also realize that with you I’m much less careful than usual about trying to source every assertion that I make. A lot of the reason for that is I know that you actually do go and do your own research. But it makes me worry about the job I’m doing. All of the situations that I tried to enumerate above — and a lot of other things — constitutes a somewhat gradual — often hidden, but nevertheless massive — removal and destruction of the ability of a particular group of people to survive. This is what I am seeing here. The assassinations, rocket attacks and shooting of children are atrocities — but in focusing on them I’m terrified of missing their context. The vast majority of people here — even if they had the economic means to escape, even if they actually wanted to give up resisting on their land and just leave (which appears to be maybe the less nefarious of Sharon’s possible goals), can’t leave. Because they can’t even get into Israel to apply for visas, and because their destination countries won’t let them in (both our country and Arab countries). So I think when all means of survival is cut off in a pen (Gaza) which people can’t get out of, I think that qualifies as genocide. Even if they could get out, I think it would still qualify as genocide. Maybe you could look up the definition of genocide according to international law. I don’t remember it right now. I’m going to get better at illustrating this, hopefully. I don’t like to use those charged words. I think you know this about me. I really value words. I really try to illustrate and let people draw their own conclusions.

Anyway, I’m rambling. Just want to write to my Mom and tell her that I’m witnessing this chronic, insidious genocide and I’m really scared, and questioning my fundamental belief in the goodness of human nature. This has to stop. I think it is a good idea for us all to drop everything and devote our lives to making this stop. I don’t think it’s an extremist thing to do anymore. I still really want to dance around to Pat Benatar and have boyfriends and make comics for my coworkers. But I also want this to stop. Disbelief and horror is what I feel. Disappointment. I am disappointed that this is the base reality of our world and that we, in fact, participate in it. This is not at all what I asked for when I came into this world. This is not at all what the people here asked for when they came into this world. This is not the world you and Dad wanted me to come into when you decided to have me. This is not what I meant when I looked at Capital Lake and said: “This is the wide world and I’m coming to it.” I did not mean that I was coming into a world where I could live a comfortable life and possibly, with no effort at all, exist in complete unawareness of my participation in genocide. More big explosions somewhere in the distance outside.

When I come back from Palestine, I probably will have nightmares and constantly feel guilty for not being here, but I can channel that into more work. Coming here is one of the better things I’ve ever done. So when I sound crazy, or if the Israeli military should break with their racist tendency not to injure white people, please pin the reason squarely on the fact that I am in the midst of a genocide which I am also indirectly supporting, and for which my government is largely responsible.

I love you and Dad. Sorry for the diatribe. OK, some strange men next to me just gave me some peas, so I need to eat and thank them.

Rachel

February 28, 2003

(To her mother)

Thanks, Mom, for your response to my email. It really helps me to get word from you, and from other people who care about me.

After I wrote to you I went incommunicado from the affinity group for about 10 hours which I spent with a family on the front line in Hi Salam — who fixed me dinner — and have cable TV. The two front rooms of their house are unusable because gunshots have been fired through the walls, so the whole family — three kids and two parents — sleep in the parents’ bedroom. I sleep on the floor next to the youngest daughter, Iman, and we all shared blankets. I helped the son with his English homework a little, and we all watched Pet Semetery, which is a horrifying movie. I think they all thought it was pretty funny how much trouble I had watching it. Friday is the holiday, and when I woke up they were watching Gummy Bears dubbed into Arabic. So I ate breakfast with them and sat there for a while and just enjoyed being in this big puddle of blankets with this family watching what for me seemed like Saturday morning cartoons. Then I walked some way to B’razil, which is where Nidal and Mansur and Grandmother and Rafat and all the rest of the big family that has really wholeheartedly adopted me live. (The other day, by the way, Grandmother gave me a pantomimed lecture in Arabic that involved a lot of blowing and pointing to her black shawl. I got Nidal to tell her that my mother would appreciate knowing that someone here was giving me a lecture about smoking turning my lungs black.) I met their sister-in-law, who is visiting from Nusserat camp, and played with her small baby.

Nidal’s English gets better every day. He’s the one who calls me, “My sister.” He started teaching Grandmother how to say, “Hello. How are you?” In English. You can always hear the tanks and bulldozers passing by, but all of these people are genuinely cheerful with each other, and with me. When I am with Palestinian friends I tend to be somewhat less horrified than when I am trying to act in a role of human rights observer, documenter, or direct-action resister. They are a good example of how to be in it for the long haul. I know that the situation gets to them — and may ultimately get them — on all kinds of levels, but I am nevertheless amazed at their strength in being able to defend such a large degree of their humanity — laughter, generosity, family-time — against the incredible horror occurring in their lives and against the constant presence of death. I felt much better after this morning. I spent a lot of time writing about the disappointment of discovering, somewhat first-hand, the degree of evil of which we are still capable. I should at least mention that I am also discovering a degree of strength and of basic ability for humans to remain human in the direst of circumstances — which I also haven’t seen before. I think the word is dignity. I wish you could meet these people. Maybe, hopefully, someday you will.

Rachel

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

1. Rachel Corrie’s letters were sent almost exactly 20 years ago. The young children she met are today in their 20s, if they are alive. What are some of the key memories you think these young people might have, based on what is included in Corrie’s letters?
2. What questions come up for you in Rachel Corrie’s letters? About people in Gaza, about Corrie?
3. Think about the descriptions in Rachel Corrie’s letters. What conditions make life so difficult for Palestinians?
4. In one letter, Rachel Corrie says, “I am really scared for the people here.” Why is she scared for people?
5. Nowhere in Rachel Corrie’s letters does she use the word “courage.” Yet at one point in her letters, she describes that “I tried to stand between them [Palestinians] and the tank.” What are the experiences in Corrie’s life that might lead to this kind of courageous response?
6. Go through Rachel Corrie’s letters and underline phrases that you find moving, startling, poignant, poetic. Write a “found poem” from language you find in her letters.
7. Rachel Corrie’s mother says that Palestinian violent resistance is making things worse. Rachel asks her mom: “What is left for people? Tell me if you can think of anything. I can’t . . .” What do you think about Rachel’s statement? What might her mother say?
8. Rachel Corrie writes: “I really can’t believe that something like this can happen in the world without a bigger outcry about it. It really hurts me, again, like it has hurt me in the past, to witness how awful we can allow the world to be.” Why is it that “we” can allow the world to be so awful?
9. Rachel Corrie writes: “So I think when all means of survival is cut off in a pen (Gaza) which people can’t get out of, I think that qualifies as genocide.” What do you think of this statement of Corrie’s? What does this mean people in Gaza should do? What does it lead Corrie to want to do?
10. What do you think led Rachel Corrie to travel to Gaza to live with the people there in such difficult situations? Try to imagine one experience that Corrie may have had in her hometown of Olympia, Washington, that may have led her to make the decision to travel to Gaza to stand with people there.
11. Based just on what you read in Rachel Corrie’s letters, what thoughts do you have about the Palestinians in Gaza whom she spent time with?
12. Rachel Corrie says that Gazans have dignity. “Dignity.” What does she mean by that? What leads her to say that? What does the word dignity mean to you?

The post “I Think the Word Is Dignity” — Rachel Corrie’s Letters from Gaza appeared first on Zinn Education Project.

By Samia Shoman

Long before I was born in 1975, the course of my life had been drastically altered by history. When David Ben-Gurion declared the creation and independence of the state of Israel on May 14, 1948, my identity as a Palestinian was shaped, along with the history of this region. Throughout my life, I have borne witness to and experienced the ways this day in history changed not only my life, but also the lives of millions of Palestinians and Jews all over the world.

My most recent trip to the region was in July 2013. As always, I felt saddened and overwhelmed as I reflected on what the events of 1948 had caused: an institutionalized system of oppression and apartheid in what some believe is historic Palestine and others see as Israel. This difference in perspective and personal truth is among the many factors that have kept the conflict ongoing into its 66th year.

In my teaching, I use an approach that exposes students to the idea that Palestinians and Israelis have different narratives about the same historical events. The approach encourages critical thinking and allows students the space and opportunity to decide what they think for themselves. At least in my district, it is an approach that has enabled me to build support among a broad range of parents, students, and Middle East scholars — even when I have been challenged by community groups questioning my intentions and curriculum because I am a Palestinian American who teaches the conflict in my contemporary world studies class.

Teaching the conflict takes courage. I write this article in hopes of encouraging teachers who are committed to social justice to take on the challenge. In this context, social justice means exposing students to Palestinian narratives alongside the Zionist narratives that often dominate textbooks. I use the term Zionism and teach it explicitly to my students. Zionism is the support of an exclusively Jewish state in Israel, along with the land that it claims should be part of Greater Israel. An important distinction to make is that not all Jews or Israelis are Zionists, and there are non-Jewish Zionists.

War of Independence or Catastrophe?

I anchor my Palestine/Israel unit in the events of 1948, although the historical background starts long before this, with the First Zionist Congress of 1897 and the Balfour Declaration of 1917. Later we backtrack to cover this history; it is important that students understand that Zionist organizations had plans to turn Palestine into a Jewish state long before World War II.

I present the 1948 events as both the Israeli War of Independence and the Palestinian Nakba (nakba is Arabic for catastrophe). It is through the events of 1948 that students get their most intimate understanding of how different narratives determine what people see as the truth. For example, my students learn that a Palestinian student in the West Bank or Gaza and an Israeli student in Israel will learn different stories about what happened in 1948. What those students learn shapes their beliefs about the legitimacy of the state of Israel. It is through this lesson that my students begin to grasp the idea of multiple and competing narratives as they read, watch, critique, and analyze text and video footage of things that happened in 1948 from different perspectives. As students work their way through the history, they begin to develop their own truth about what happened.

Continue reading and find lesson handouts at Rethinking Schools.

Continue Reading

Samia Shoman, a California native with Palestinian roots, has dedicated her career in public education to promoting racial and social justice in the classroom and broader educational organizations she has worked in. She is currently part of a California collaborative leading a Liberated Ethnic Studies Model Curriculum Coalition. As a long time high school social science teacher, with a special love for working with English Learners, her current passion is leading an alternative Newcomer Program and the implementation of Ethnic Studies for all ninth graders in her district. Samia currently serves as a Manager of English Learner & Academic Support Programs. In addition to her secondary school work, Samia served as a lecturer in the College of Ethnic Studies Arab and Muslim Ethnicities and Diaspora Program and the Masters of Public Health Program at San Francisco State University. Samia holds a B.A in Political Science with a minor in Spanish from UC Davis, an M.A. in Education from San Francisco State University, and an Ed.D with a focus on Organization and Leadership from the University of San Francisco.

Classroom Story

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Living within 20 minutes of each other, these children are nevertheless locked in separate worlds. Through candid interviews, the film explores a legacy of distrust and bitterness, but signs of hope emerge when some of the children dare to cross the checkpoints to meet one another. [Adapted from PBS description.]

Watch the trailer for Promises below. The documentary can be rented on Vimeo, and also viewed in Spanish.

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Even as her country was at war with itself, Taylor valiantly fought for the rights of her people and demonstrated true heroism. From the author of Never Caught and She Came to Slay comes a vibrant middle grade biography of Susie King Taylor, in a new series spotlighting Black women who left their mark on history. [Adapted from publisher’s description.]

ISBN: 9781665919937 | Aladdin Paperbacks

The post Susie King Taylor: Nurse, Teacher & Freedom Fighter appeared first on Zinn Education Project.