I am extremely lucky to have a mother who was determined to place her children in the most optimal educational environments. Interestingly my father never saw much merit in privatized education. He himself, an islander of Trinidad & Tobago was raised in abject poverty the likes of which can only be described in tale. His school burned down in the 4th grade and he simply never returned for formal education. It was not abnormal for a young and impoverished boy to fall into work over education which could be seen as something of a privilege, an indulgence over necessity. Nonetheless his path to success was paved through sheer determination and entrepreneurial spirit. He became a business owner and maintained our family with pride. As a result of their different educational experiences my parents had differing views on the importance of education. Despite this it was my mothers' insistence we be given a private school education that eventually won out. Before I could get into private school, my public school experience from 1st-8th grade was particularly instrumental to my growth and success as a young woman.

 

As an immigrant to America also from the island of Trinidad, my mother experienced a vastly different educational system than the schools that would eventually groom me. Curriculum, teaching styles, classroom expectations, student workloads were all different and extremely competitive with high standard and high regard and respect for teachers. As well as they were all inclusive and free. On that small island, the classroom was a place of strict and unbending rules which included corporal punishments and a zero tolerance for disrespect or horseplay. “After god and family education was 3rd.” My mother sought to find similarly demanding and unrelenting educational environments for us. As such my educational story has been largely shaped by my culture, race, gender, religion as well as a hearing handicap.

 

At age 5, my mother took steps to enroll me in a French immersion program starting from 1st grade to 5th grade at a Milton elementary school, Cunningham. French Immersion meant that I not only took French class, but French Writing, French Literature, and Social Studies in French. This was an excellent opportunity, one that was limited in my town and though it was admission only, Cunningham is considered a public school. The town of Milton, being a historic town was founded back in 1640 and surely by 1990, my first grade year, it had become gentrified, to a degree. As a Trinidadian/Syrian/Indian/American girl entering a predominantly white school I brought a lot of culture to the classroom, sometimes it would seem too much.

 

The lunchroom experience was really telling of the cultural context of the Milton Public School system. Being that we cooked ethnic foods at home, my lunches had pungent aromas, spices and strange appeal to the average suburban raised student. This meant I was teased, mocked and ultimately outcast during lunchtime; the product of intense scrutiny and backward glances. As a young child trying to connect with the world around me it was hard being so different; literally the one person of color from 1st grade onto 5th grade.

 

The classroom presented its own challenges which made me eagerly gravitate towards my teachers. A severe hearing handicap required me to always be in the front of the classroom. Sometimes that meant I was called on more often due to proximity and other times it meant I was more likely to engage in the lesson as compared to students in the back. Placement and hyper-interaction with teachers singled me out. That coupled with my penchant for A+ homework, answering questions first and reminding the teacher to collect homework (because I wanted the recognition) gave me a "rep" as teacher's pet. Always first in line due to alphabetical ordering, (last name being Ali) and teacher's helper with cleanup, I could be found walking with teachers. I would stick near because I often felt alone and even vulnerable without an adult nearby. I would say this feeling persisted because of the intimidating nature of being that “token” student of color, carrying this heavy torch was a huge responsibility. I believe this experience would greatly serve me as a teacher and paraprofessional in the extremely diverse community of BPS’ student population.

 

As I made it to 4th and 5th grade, I became more aware of my religious views instilled by my parents.As a young practicing Muslim I wasn't allowed to wear shorts in the summer, or wear a bathing suit to summer camp without a long t-shirt and pants. My classmates didn't understand this, and moreover I sort of didn't. I found myself making up a reason for my long pants when the hottest days of June would arrive. "Oh, I don't  really feel the heat, I'm from a tropical country, we're used to this kind of weather." Weary eyes would squint at me searching for proof of truth. 99% of the time this excuse worked and kids would back off the subject, now more intrigued about this "tropical" place I hailed from. But, having never lived and only visited Trinidad a few times, I hadn't the most authentic explanations. Therein I had my first encounters with the notion of “not being Trinidadian/Indian/Syrian enough” something I know many multi-ethnic children experience.

 

Onto 6th-8th grade, I made it to middle school. Now 11 years old, I had developed my love for music and singing. My secret addiction was singing for hours in my basement so nobody could hear me. I was extremely shy thereby finding a lot of comfort in solitary experience of listening to music. I was now a 6th grader at Pierce Middle School and a handful of students of color sprinkled the halls which meant my differences could go more unnoticed because the total number of students had increased tenfold. I reached a stage where I loved to read and I was buried in books, mostly mystery and being alone now was my happy normal. I always had my paged companion. My classroom excellence maintained itself. By now I loved taking notes, highlighting, color-coding with the pen/pencil collection I revered. I was the kid you copied off when you missed class or didn't get all the information before the teacher erased the board. For this reason, I was able to stay pretty neutral in terms of social status. They didn't love me, but they couldn't hate me either.

 

Examining my middle school lunchroom experience I can accurately describe the diversity and school culture. Here social affiliations were visually represented by racial divides of who ate together. There was the section of the cafeteria where students of color, all the black kids, not minority-- which would have included spanish and asian, and myself, the one indian-- solely black students had a monopoly on three tables near the back. It seemed that teachers were sometimes wary of venturing to this area.

 

I self-identified with black students. I looked around and was keenly aware of how different I looked from my mostly white classmates. An uneasiness, a deep seated insecurity that I wasn't good enough, couldn't be as popular or desirable compared to the white girls was made stronger by their avoidance of me. By end of 6th grade, it seemed like the black girls were taking me under their wing. They asked me to sit with them at lunch and in class they weren't afraid to talk to me or make jokes. I can remember my 12th birthday when 24 black girls showed up to my house and my mother started to glimpse my world. She saw me self-identifying and yet excluding myself without being able to integrate my own culture. I think this was the point she really felt I needed a private school experience, a diverse student body with a more representative population.

 

I carried on into my 7th grade year struggling with social relationships in large part due to race, but also to lack of practice. At home, expectations were high and daily routines after school left no room for anything but homework, chores, dinner and bed, (maybe a little T.V or music or reading under the covers with a flashlight). Strict homework and study practice ensured my A's in class. I would really find myself immersed in music and song during these years because of the many restrictions on social life that my mother, in her traditionalism set in place. After school while students walked home together, stopping off at the convenience store and "hanging out" in the neighborhood, I was forbidden such indulgence. Pick up and drop off were timely and all about business, no meandering. My mother had great fears about the influences of such freedoms on my development at such a young age. To a large extent I agree with her, but I missed out on the ability to develop a more discerning sensibility. Traditional West Indian culture doesn't allow for lackadaisical child rearing practices i.e being immigrants, there was an urgency to close the gap of achievement and prosperity by preparing us for success by any means necessary.

 

By 8th grade, my teachers were more than willing to write glowing recommendations for my admission into private school, Milton Academy. I was accepted. Founded in 1798, Milton Academy boasts diversity from over 30 countries, and nearly 50% diverse student body, with 33%  staff of color. This was a crucial reason for sending me there, but also because the educational system nearly guaranteed I'd attend an Ivy League. Another beacon of education that as the children of immigrants we were reared to achieve.

 

I think it’s important to pause here and self-reflect on these 8 formal years of public school education. I learned that I was intelligent, that I had much value added because of my rich ethnic heritage and religious and cultural experiences. But I also learned that educationally, I could pass with ease, I could write the assignments, read the texts but I didn’t necessarily have a deeper connection with the material. I was like a career student, I knew how to get an A. I needed a more challenging intellectual environment. A place where my creative senses could be stimulated and somehow integrated into my learning environment. I craved deeper exploration of the assigned literature, and challenging projects apart from tests and state required exams. I would find all of this during my next four years of high school.

 

Milton Academy was the place where I was able to blossom into a young scholar that would end up pursuing college and beyond. It was almost a magical experience. Science class wasn’t a textbook anymore, large endowment funds ensured that daily lectures were accompanied with expansive labs, field trips, experiments and all the resources we needed. English and Writing Skills classes were like gladiator training in the arena, where we debated  current events and were pushed to write, prove and defend our theories. A look at characters in a novel was like dissecting the brain’s anatomy to find the philosophical and psychological rhythms. Reasoning, creative writing, public and impassioned debate were all part of the grooming. We were free to take part in on campus politics, join student run groups, create our own if the need be. Clubs, organizations, student government, jobs, huge looming buildings for every department, a sprawling campus bigger than some colleges in Boston. I had entered educational heaven. What’s more the performing arts programs and after school sports requirements made me a well-rounded, active and socially engaged student. Being a great student before was easy, but here I was average. I had to constantly strive for better. I found a place for my voice, literally as a leader of an all girls a capella group. I was encouraged by my teachers and classmates to always rise above. The competitive atmosphere lit my fuse and I was forever changed, molded into an ambitious and self-confident young lady. The school gave me a full scholarship for my four years of high school. The equivalent of $23,000/annually. I was a lucky girl and I know that only a small percentage of children will get that chance. Boston Public Schools are not endowed private schools. BPS however does need teachers and staff like me, who are aware of the greatness just beyond the horizon. The achievable success of our students is literally the difference between resources and an educator’s perseverance with each and every student. My teachers at Milton Academy were persistent and available to me. It wasn’t a school, it was a home, and I had family who wanted me to succeed. I spent entire days, sometimes nearly 18 hours on campus. We had a boarding student population as well, for my international and out of state peers. I was exposed to culture and authentic points of view, and encouraged through uncomfortable and foreign territory, to break through to mutuality and understanding. Educators like myself can be highly instrumental in awakening the passion of a student, and the willingness to want more. What an incredible difference from my elementary and middle school experiences. I felt prepared for anything, and ready to conquer the world and all of my dreams with it.

 

Four years flew by at Milton and in the process I traveled to Hong Kong, Beijing, France, two times, Dublin, Ireland, and London all because of my singing. The school chamber singers was a coveted position and I, a member, partook in several tours abroad. Before age 17 I had nearly filled my passport with stamps. My french skills came in very handy abroad and my mother’s foresight to put me in French immersion really started to pay off. After graduating Cum Laude in 2002 I was 18 years old. I moved to New York City and went on to complete a Psychology and Criminal Justice degree by age 22. I had intentions of becoming a criminal lawyer, working on the defense side. My aim was to be the person who protected defendants from wrongful incrimination and imprisonment. I wanted to help the underdog and I felt a calling for humanitarian aid. Although I had a plan, sometimes life charters it’s own course and it becomes up to us to choose. Perhaps it was because what seems like eternal youth at that age, I was willing to answer a quiet beckoning which had never left. I think after getting a B.A it suddenly felt safe me to answer; my first love music was calling.

 

My final chapter in my educational story ends with my studies at Berklee College of Music. A truly incredible place with inspirational musicians from around the world, I was admitted as a vocalist and studied Music Business and Songwriting/Performance. As you might read on my “Community” page link, I have several shows/benefits where I donated my music and time for fundraising, and relief efforts locally and abroad. An in depth look at me as a candidate for paraprofessional work shows I am eager and ambitious about this type of work. It was through the experience of being taught music, somewhat taken aback into child form again that I was exposed to the idea of teaching music. This idea snowballed into teaching in general to now becoming a paraprofessional working one-to-one with a student in need. Everything began somewhere and I find that self-fulfillment and my desire for humanitarian aid can manifest itself in this form. I can find myself at peace working with children who need my experience in life to help guide them academically, as well as interpersonally through their educational careers. I find the experience of working in a school setting to be absolutely uplifting and even spiritually resonant because at the end of my day I know I’m contributing positivity and excellence. I can change a life and offer the supportive embrace that a is required in an inclusive and diverse environment and I will continue to strive for that chance.

 

I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed learning about me and my educational story.