Autobiography

Growing up, I was very aware that we were a poor immigrant family. My “otherness” started as early as kindergarten. While filling out the home language survey, my mom proudly indicated that we spoke another language in our home – Gujrati. My parents were born and raised in Kenya and Uganda and spoke fluent English. However, based on the survey, my sister and I were placed in ESL classes that were largely dominated by Spanish speakers. It was an innocuous mistake that caused my sister and I to reach out for divergent defense mechanisms. I reacted by isolating myself in fiction books – while my sister reacted by assimilating. In 5^th grade, a history teacher noticed that I was reading 3-4 novels a week, and moved me to her honors class, where I excelled, and by next year I was in a full honors track, which led to a college track in high school. My sister's defense mechanism of assimilating to the group backfired. She struggled with depression, trying on different cultures, until she settled into her own skin. However, as she explored herself socially, she stayed in the ESL track with an undiagnosed learning disability until she graduated. My serendipitous move to an honors track resulted in the lives of my sister and I.

My early childhood experience was fraught with navigating the different environments I found myself thrown into classrooms where almost all of the students spoke Spanish and I felt isolated. In my home environment with my well-intentioned immigrant parents, who emphasized the importance of education but warned against the dangers of assimilation, I often felt like a stranger. In afterschool programs, like Girl Scouts, that emphasized individualism and American values, I felt the pressure to adapt and assimilate. In all three, I felt a sense of being other, constantly trying to “fit in” while never quite hitting the mark.

As I went through adolescence, I struggled with the realities of being low-income with lots of unsupervised time while my parents were at work, and found myself in unsafe situations due to my precociousness. My feelings of being "other", and not fitting in anywhere caused me to try and "join" groups and look for acceptance. As I went to high school, my experiences changed to balancing American ideas of being in a relationship, to Asian ideas of doing well in school, to conservative Indian ideas of staying away from cultures/religions that were not my own, and respecting parents above individual ideas. After struggling with depression, I set a goal of doing well in school so that I could leave my parents' house. I was lucky to be accepted into UC Berkeley, and found cheap housing in the co-op structure. Looking back, I had very little trust in the school system, which often labeled me as a quiet Asian girl despite my frequent outburst. When I shared my culture/heritage/religion, I often felt like I was asked to represent and describe a whole group which I knew very little about. When learning I was ethnically Indian, my 6th grade teacher asked me to speak of Indian values - which I knew nothing about. In 7th grade, the experience was repeated with describing and pronouncing every Arabic word when learning about Islam. None of my teachers recognized me as a student that was struggling, or recognized my frequent dips in grades or outbursts as what they were - cries for help. This experience defines me as a social justice educator, because I know firsthand the dangers of judging students based on surface characteristics such as grades, race, or looks. Our schools still operates from a white normative American culture and expects students to conform to be successful. Throughout my journey as an educator, I have struggled with my role in helping students navigate this, from helping students learn the insider perspective to be successful, to actively trying to change the system to meet the needs of students. As I have grown in my understanding and experience as a social justice educator, I have realized that teaching students to conform to the current system reinforces the white normative culture that left me feeling like I didn't belong. Instead, the school system should create an "Institutional Culture of Care", creating a system that authentically cares about each of our students, and changes and adapts to meet their social and emotional needs, as well as their academic needs to ensure that every student feels like a part of the school community.

During my 4 years at UC Berkeley, I majored in Psychology while working 30 hours doing odd jobs. I was lucky to participate in SAGE, a program for low income first generation college students. Through this program, I was provided with a life coach and an internship with Supervisor Keith Carson, County Supervisor in Oakland. As part of my internship, I planned a youth camp for Oakland students, and found that I LOVED working with the students. I also found that I enjoyed education classes. At UC Berkeley, I was fascinated to learn about tracking-because I have lived it- and had seen the difference it had made with my sister and I. Tracking explained why I was exposed to different academic experiences than my sister. I was initially LIVID at learning that my sister was assumed to be not as academically competent as I was simply because she was on a different track. I was acutely aware of the simple luck that had me placed in different classes and confused as to why some teachers would require a 5-page research paper from me, and ask for a 3 paragraph essay from my sister. I tried to explain this to my sister, who was finishing high school at the time. However, by that point, there was a rift between us based on my "success" and her "lack of success." This rift was fueled by my parents who pushed her to do as well as me while she had her own internalized feelings of not being smart after years of being told so by her teachers. The combination of my academic, work and personal experiences pushed me to explore teaching as a career option.

I graduated UCLA TEP determined to do away with the structures that tracked my sister. During my first years at Berendo Middle, despite tracking by language, I made sure to expose my ESL and Honor students to the same level of difficulty and rigor. I found that when given the opportunity to have fun, explore, and figure out difficult problems, a child will rise to the expectation. I was lucky enough to be surrounded by fellow teachers who were eager to help challenge our students. I collaborated with English and math teachers to provide rich academic instruction culminating with a science fair submission by every student. I was aided with wonderful role models, such as Tanya Wills, who created a true community in their room and who showed me the power of a true classroom discussion where every student has a voice and knows they can achieve success. She constantly modeled how to support all students, as I saw the success she had of holding her ESL students to the same standard as her Honors students.

Currently, the system doesn’t meet the needs of every student. Tracking to meet the needs of students who need a faster pace, or are “smarter” is used to justify systematic discrimination against other children. Instead of providing students with what they need to learn, whether it be emotional support, community support, or simply a place that cares and that children feel they belong to - the system divides and fragments. Tanya Wills and others truly modeled what I felt growing up - that my sister and I, as well as every child has potential to be successful. Tracking, and the diverse life consequences that can accompany it are wrong. As a leader, this knowledge will guide how I approach students, teachers, and the school community. A student’s reticence or defiance to participate in class can be due to so many factors -- none of which should be the life-long condemnation that currently takes place. As Tanya Wills and others modeled, it is possible to hold all students to high standards, and have them feel a part of a community where they know that their teachers believe they can succeed. This cannot just be a goal for our schools, this should be the norm. A leader needs to ensure that all students have opportunities for success, not just students with parents as advocates, or students who meet random behavior traits, but all students.

As a school leader, my eye will always look to who the system might leave out, which students are sitting at the periphery, and question the system that allows that circumstance to happen. A classroom should shift to meet the needs of all students, with larger problem driven learning, allowing all students to explore. This would allow all students to practice collaboration, recognizing each other's assets, and drawing upon them to reach the goal. As a school leader, I will remember that the classroom is not where my work stops, but extends to helping students feel part of the school community, ensuring that students are safe and welcomed during their breaks. Finally, I will make sure to not push some students forward at the expense of others.

During my teaching years, I also started my family, and have been blessed with 3 children, 2 girls and a boy. In an effort to live and work in the same community, I started to search for new opportunities that would reduce my commute. A fellow colleague and PLI graduate, Dr. Joseph Eure, was the Assistant Principal at John Adams Middle School (JAMS) in Santa Monica and told me of a position. In 2015, I moved to JAMS Middle. While on the surface, the school appears to be a wealthy school with “easy” children, I discovered the extreme opposite. JAMS is considered the "tough" school in Santa Monica, with wealthy parents moving to the Montana side to avoid our school's boundaries. The children ranged from wealthy to extremely poor. Students entered with a variety of skills and ideas about what was expected of them at school. What is still horrifying is the culture of teachers – many are complacent and repeat what they have been doing for twenty years while complaining about the students getting worse. Tracking clearly existed. Teaching a 7^th grade science class, one of my students asked, “Ms. Kapasi – why are there only brown and black kids in this class? Are the smart kids in another class?” This was heartbreaking to me, as it reminded me of my family's experience with tracking. Despite lots of obstacles, the students' experience really drove me to stay within the school, and continually push back on the system which caters to the loudest parents (who typically come from wealthy families), at the expense of marginalized students. The teaching techniques that worked in my former school did not translate, as I constantly had to justify my grading and teaching practices to these parents. However, I have learned a lot about how to navigate the delicate balance of meeting the needs of all students, and promoting what is happening in a way to satisfy these parents. Most importantly, I humanize myself to my students, sharing my past and current struggles, hoping that by sharing my story, other students that are feeling othered will feel comfortable to share in return.

While I teach at JAMS, my own children have been attending the elementary school across the street. It was heartbreaking to see my experience of being othered repeat itself for my older girls. My oldest daughter, at 5, was placed in reading intervention, and has internalized feelings of not being academically smart. She described feeling out of place throughout her elementary years, begging me to not tell her teacher about religious absences because “she won’t know what that’s about”. She struggled with making friends throughout her experience. My requests to the school to address her needs resulted in her being placed in a therapy group for 3 months in third grade - an amazing experience which was apparently one and done. My other daughter was continually in “trouble”, as my husband had to meet with her kindergarten teacher 8 times during the year for her behavior. Both children do not feel connected to any type of school community or school culture, and would have no qualms about switching to another school. The school system is still not getting to know the whole child - as my daughter's academics and behavior was something that needed to be “rectified” by us. Teachers focus on academics only, with very little done to build community, recognize assets, and ensure that students feel they belong to the school community. My family's experience will guide my experience as a leader, as a school must consider the whole child - not just the academics. This starts with welcoming each child into the school, and ensuring they feel a sense of belonging at the school.

During my time at JAMS, I have tried to advocate for all students, remembering that as an equitable educator, some students need different resources to meet the standards. The challenges I have faced were unexpected – from parents demanding I change my teaching so their child can receive an A, to backlash from other teachers when I advocate for a child. However, I remind myself that change is possible – in our science department, we have eliminated tracking of classes by science magnet. I currently hold the position to implement small changes as department chair, such as analyzing writing in science or advocating for funds for marginalized students as part of the School Site Council. With an Administrative Credential, I look forward to moving out of the classroom, and building relationships with larger groups of parents and community organizations to push for changes for marginalized students benefiting all. In the future, I hope to continue to empower students and families who are "othered" by our system that favors and rewards those who succeed within white normative culture. I strive to do this by pushing the system to change and meet the needs of all students with compassion and care, instead of classifying students and ignoring their individual needs.