Kaddish for Deven Black

I am grieving for my friend, Deven Black.  I met Deven on Twitter back in 2009.  At that time he was a Special Ed teacher.  He came to teaching later in life than most.  We would often kibitz late at night about things that mattered to us.  We talked about our families.  We talked about how things were for us growing up.  Like me, Deven was of Slavic Jewish descent.  Like me, he cared about social justice.  We both wrote about Special Education. We both wanted to turn our small corner of the world into a better place.

A few years ago his principal urged him to train to become a school librarian and modernize the library they had at the school where he taught.  Even though he was no longer a Special Ed teacher, that still mattered to him.  He wanted those kids at that Bronx school to have a chance.

When I wrote about wanting to start a movement towards education equality, Deven told me to sign him up.  Well, I never got that off the ground, but I think he liked my idea of somehow building the educational equivalent of the underground railroad.  I wanted to create an organization and call it something like, "Follow the Drinking Gourd."  Or, at the very least, incorporate that theme into the quest for education equality.

I often felt out of my depth in discussing education.  Although I have a Master's in English and spent several years as a part-time instructor at several community colleges, I never thought of myself as an educator.  I had never taken education courses, and so I never felt qualified to speak about educational practice.  What qualified me to talk about Special Education was the fact that I have two daughters who are in Special Education classes.  I have roughly seventeen years of advocacy under my belt.  While other teachers would tell me to go play on the freeway, Deven took me seriously.  He was one of the few educators on Twitter and in "meatspace" who respected my experience, and, to him, my lack of knowledge in educational theory was irrelevant.  To him I was an equal.  

When I flew to Philadelphia to attend EduCon in late January 2011, Deven took me under his wing.  As soon as my plane landed, Deven was calling me on my cellphone.  He waited for me at the hotel we were staying at, and then whisked me off to a nearby restaurant and bar where teachers were gathering informally to grab a meal and schmooze.  Deven introduced me to people.  He saw to it that I felt at ease.  

Deven accompanied me on a tour of HMS School, a residential school for disabled children, graciously arranged for us by Dr. David Timony, another Twitter friend.  When David dropped us off at SLA, where EduCon is held every year, I didn't see that much of Deven after that.  

Deven and I continued to tweet at each other, but it seemed as if he was around less frequently.   When I was dealing with my cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment in 2014, I don't think it occurred to me that I hadn't seen him in quite some time.  When I emailed him in 2015, he never responded.  I assumed it was because he was busy.  I am now thinking it's possible that he never saw my email, or, if he did, that he was too depressed to care.  

According to this New York Times article, Deven Black went from being a man who, in 2013, was honored by the Academy of Education Arts and Sciences for his exceptional work as a school librarian" to being reduced to being  a substitute teacher in 2014.  And then in 2015 he ended up suspended without pay because of being arrested for grand larceny.  I imagine this is what ultimately caused him to end up homeless and a murder victim.  

The article describes in detail how a mentally ill young man savagely murdered Deven Black.  And concludes with a quote from this resident, Mr. Ricks, "“We lost two,” Mr. Ricks said. “We lost a young man who needed help and an old man who didn’t need to die.”

And that is at the crux of the matter.  The young man, who, ironically, is Mr. White, has a history of mental illness, and needed help.  And, Mr. Deven Black, who lost his life, also had something go wrong.  Both men were failed by society and "the system."  It is inconceivable to me that a man, honored one year was demoted to being a substitute teacher the next.  That is not how we should treat our educational heroes.  If Deven was guilty of the charges against him, I can only imagine that he may have been driven to that through desperation.  And, if guilty, Deven should have been given a way to redeem himself.  We all deserve an opportunity for redemption. 

I do not choose to remember Deven Black as a man who perhaps engaged in some questionable behavior towards the end of his life.  Instead I choose to remember Deven Black for his dedication to his students. I choose to remember a gentle man who nurtured others. I will leave you with this interview which gives a better lasting impression of who Deven Black was and what he cared about the most.  His comment, "I like that I had to learn so much to be able to do this job—learning is really what I like to do most of all," is what made him a valuable member of my Twitter circle. 

Thank you, Deven.  May you be at peace. 

We've Tried Nothing, And We're Fresh Out of Ideas!

Note:  Reposted from my defunct education blog.  Originally posted late January 2011.


In the eighth episode of the eighth season of The Simpsons, "Hurricane Neddy," which first aired on Sunday, December 29, 1996, Ned Flanders becomes filled with rage when well meaning but incompetent neighbors rebuild his house, which is the only one destroyed after a hurricane makes landfall in Springfield. He drives himself back to the sanitarium, where, years earlier, as an unruly little boy, he received spank therapy. His exasperated beatnik parents exclaim to the psychiatrist, "We've tried nothing, and we're fresh out of ideas!" Kid O was eight months at the time. Little did I know how well that line would come to symbolize her education.

Kid O has been a Special Ed student of the Chicago Public Schools since spring 1999. I figure out of eleven and a half years that Kid O has only had five good teachers. Even the better Special Ed teachers have needed way more persistence on my part than I have had psychic energy for. Furthermore, for years, I have been at a distinct disadvantage. I have had neither the language nor the skills to effectively advocate for Kid O.

"They don't listen to you, do they," Dr. David Timony asked me as he navigated Philadelphia traffic on the way to dropping Deven Black and I off at Science Leadership Academy for EduCon 2.3 I answered "No, they don't," but also thinking, do I really need to answer that question?

David graciously had arranged for Deven and I to tour HMS School where his sister used to teach and still volunteers. As I suspected even before we set foot into the building, these teachers and volunteers treat these children and young adults as if they are truly individuals. I asked the women who finished up our tour, as David's sister had to leave, about what the assistive technology options they had. And, as I suspected, was far and away better than what Kid O receives at her school.

While I was happy to see children given one on one attention in terms of therapy and education, I was acutely aware of what a sharp contrast it was to what Kid O receives through the Chicago Public Schools. And will probably continue to receive at CPS even when I report back to the staff at her current school. I am a thorn in their methods side, and so, no, they do not listen to my experience and to my input, as I mentioned here.

There's a sense I have of limited imagination and curiosity amongst teachers and therapy staff, that is excused away by lack of budget. Even of the most progressive thinking educators I have encountered at CPS quickly dismissed my inquiries into better technology for Kid O by saying, "not in the budget." At what expense it is to Kid O's psyche to not be able to fully express, not just what she knows and understands about the world, but her feelings? That is a huge psychic cost to bear.

David's sister spoke about a girl around Kid O's age who sounded a lot like her. Similar behavior. Similar sense of humor, and I bet, similar frustrations in trying to be heard as well as seen in a world that would largely wish her to be invisible. I have always maintained that Kid O would work the room if she could communicate.

The subject of good teachers versus bad teachers was briefly touched upon while we drove from HMS School to SLA and before I could comment we got distracted. Point is and I've said this a number of times to educators they need to pay attention to who their students are and what individual students need. As Holmes said to Watson, "You see, Watson, but you do not observe." Bad teachers only see. They have their curriculum and their methods lessons and they are going to go by that regardless of if it is really working or appropriate. Good teachers will ask why and break rules if they have to. Sometimes, however, good teachers have their hands tied by bad or indifferent administrators.

When I left HMS School, I felt a mixture of grief, rage and hope. Hope that some place somewhere was doing things right, even if I did perceive some possible blind spots. I felt grief because Kid O will never get this kind of an opportunity. I felt profound anger at the indifference of a system where resources are squandered and opportunities as well as time are lost. I felt joy when I saw that at least someone somewhere understood that neither learning nor therapy had to be dreary or regimented. I sat in this chill out chair, and it was surprisingly comfortable and easy to get in and out of. The staffer explained to us how beneficial chairs like that were for kids at the school. Helped them loosen up.

I am left with the hope that someone somewhere sees the benefit of innovation and not just "doing" education and doing it badly or, worse, yet, indifferently. In the middle of writing this post, I stopped to call up my husband and ask him him how to plug in the cellphone to recharge it. I told him about my visit to this school and what a contrast it was to what Kid O receives. He asked, "Don't you want to smack them upside the head?" And then he added, "we've tried nothing, and we're fresh out of ideas." When it comes to our experience with Kid O's education, we are on the same wavelength. We want more than what Kid O has received as an education. We want ideas. We want innovation. We want to see educators who are keen observers, and who teach with heart. What we don't want to see is a continuation of education as badly constructed as Ned Flanders' post-hurricane house. It's ill suited for Kid O and for just about anyone else.