thomassobien:

Venezuelans show their solidarity with Palestine.

Caracas, Venezuela. July 14, 2014. (Source)

(via fyeahsocialism)

Today, pedagogical methods [such a scientific reading instruction] are primarily determined by the needs of nation states to prepare workers for the global economy…. Most national school systems are organized to serve an industrial-consumer state [that] is premised on the idea that a good society involves economic growth resulting from increased production and consumption of goods. In the industrial-consumer state, education is organized to serve the goal of economic growth.
Joel Spring - “Pedagogies of Globalization: The Rise of the Educational Security State”

Any of my wonderful followers struggle with reading during their schooling? HMU if you’re willing to answer some questions for an assignment.

I think the true mark of a veteran food-service worker is the clever ways they can tell you they’ve hidden and hoarded clean rags.

Intellectual decolonization doesn’t happen by means of learning new knowledge, but rather, by ‘learning to unlearn’ old knowledge
(via resistance-episteme)
Any situation in some Individuals Which Prevent others from Engaging in the process of inquiry is one of violence. The means used are not important, to alienate human beings from Their Own decision making is to change them into objects.
Paulo Freire Pedagogy of the Oppressed (via deleuzingmymind)

guys I’m doing a presentation on how to make a questionnaire. Please answer so I have results to work with for my sample:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/8LHRKBY

So as many of you who give a shit might have noticed, or not, I haven’t been on here much. I just started my Masters in Teaching program and I am busy at literally all hours of the day. That being said, most of the radical-ish/leftist/sj/etc stuff I encounter throughout my daily life is education related (this program emphasizes critical pedagogy and social justice in education), so whatever I do post has like a 75% chance of being education related or personal. So deal with that or don’t.

Also it occurred to me today that, in my single life, I have put a lot of effort into constructing myself as a reformed bad boy/manic pixie dream boy which is completely irrelevant it’s just an interesting observation.

Also also, some of you know my full name/identity/etc. I trust most of you who do, but in any case keep that shit to yourself. I’m officially at a point where I CAN NOT afford students or parents to find my social networks/blogs.

Also also also do any of you know anyone at the UFCW? They’re the best fit for what my coworkers want (unfortunately the IWW didn’t work out), but they aren’t returning my emails. I have enough people organized, but they want legal protections that come with being represented by an established union (UNITE HERE turned us down).

mahmoudibnhamed:

A Graffiti on “Bethlehem wall” in Palestine , inspired by “La Liberté guidant le people ” painting .

(via anarcho-queer)

I am a woman.
I am a woman.

I am a woman born of a woman whose man owned a factory.
I am a woman born of a woman whose man labored in a factory.

I am a woman whose man wore silk suits, who constantly watched his weight.
I am a woman whose man wore tattered clothing, whose heart was constantly strangled by hunger.

I am a woman who watched two babies grow into beautiful children.
I am a woman who watched two babies die because there was no milk.

I am a woman who watched twins grow into popular college students with summers abroad.
I am a woman who watched three children grow, but with bellies stretched from no food.

But then there was a man;
But then there was a man;

And he talked about the peasants getting richer by my family getting poorer.
And he told me of days that would be better and he made the days better.

We had to eat rice.
We had rice.

We had to eat beans!
We had beans.

My children were no longer given summer visas to Europe.
My children no longer cried themselves to sleep.

And I felt like a peasant.
And I felt like a woman.

A peasant with a dull, hard, unexciting life.
Like a woman with a life that sometimes allowed a song.

And I saw a man.
And I saw a man.

And together we began to plot with the hope of the return to freedom.
I saw his heart begin to beat with hope of freedom, at last.

Someday, the return to freedom.
Someday freedom.

And then,
But then,

One day,
One day,

There were plans overhead and guns firing close by.
There were planes overhead and guns firing in the distance.

I gathered my children and went home.
I gathered my children and ran.

And the guns moved farther and farther away.
But the guns moved closer and closer.

And then, they announced that freedom had been restored!
And then they came, young boys really.

They came into my home along with my man.
They came and found my man.

Those men whose money was almost gone.
They found all of the men whose lives were almost their own.

And we all had drinks to celebrate.
And they shot them all.

The most wonderful martinis.
They shot my man.

And then they asked us to dance.
And they came for me.

Me.
For me, the woman.

And my sisters.
For my sisters.

And then they took us.
Then they took us.

They took us to dinner at a small private club.
They stripped from us the dignity we had gained.

And they treated us to beef.
And then they raped us.

It was one course after another.
One after another they came after us.

We nearly burst we were so full.
Lunging, plunging—sisters bleeding, sisters dying.

It was magnificent to be free again!
It was hardly a relief to have survived.

The beans have almost disappeared now.
The beans have disappeared.

The rice—I’ve replaced it with chicken or steak.
The rice, I cannot find it.

And the parties continue night after night to make up for all the time wasted.
And my silent tears are joined once more by the midnight cries of my children.

"Two Women" - This poem was written by a working class Chilean woman in 1973, shortly after Chile’s socialist president, Salvador Allende, was overthrown. A U.S. missionary translated the work and brought it with her when she was forced to leave Chile.  (via socialistpoetry)

(via inkdefense)

My name is Jake. Trailer trash, bigender leftist with anxiety issues working a shitty job and studying to be an English teacher at SMCM.

I'm the blogger formerly known as domesticterrorism

I also help run the official Occupy Wall Street Tumblog.


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