Becoming DR. Morales

Despite obtaining my Ed.D. in May of 2014, I only began using my academic title this summer.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure."

For two years, I shied away from using the title because
- It was important for me to remain humble
- it felt pretentious
- I didn't want to be judged or held to a different standard
- I didn't want to be on the receiving end of jealousy or pettiness
- I thought it distanced me from the community I served
- I thought it made me less relatable
- I didn't want to alienate anyone
- "Dr. Morales" didn't feel like me

"It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us."

Some of my friends and colleagues insisted on using my title, as they said it was inspiring. They encouraged me to have students refer to me by my title, saying that it was important for our students to see a Latina "Doctor." I heard from many women, who said that they used their academic title purposefully and politically, as a way of anchoring themselves in otherwise misogynistic spaces.

"We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?"

Still, I was uncomfortable. I didn't want to stand out. At my students' graduation ceremonies, I wore the same black robe that all my colleagues wore, despite having my own doctoral robe.

"Actually, who are you not to be?"

I decided to let some of my sparkle shine, and this June I sat on stage at my students' graduation, wearing my bright red puffy doctoral hat. I felt confident and accomplished, and received a lot of love from colleagues and students, who told me "It makes me want to cry (in a good way) to see you wearing that," and "you make me so proud!"

"Your playing small does not serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you."

I decided that it was time to be unapologetically me. Hiding my accomplishments to ease others' egos wasn't really working, as it didn't feel like people were fully seeing me or allowing me to contribute in all the ways I knew I could. 

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

This July, I began my career in school administration, introducing myself to students, parents, and staff as "Dr. Morales." I shared my personal narrative and academic and professional trajectory, and I encouraged students and teachers to pursue opportunities that would open the world to them. "Apply to this National Geographic fellowship - here are some pictures of my experience as a fellow in Iceland!" "Apply to this Earthwatch fellowship - I was once able to go to Brazil and hold an anaconda!"

I previously downplayed these experiences, but by talking about them, I was able to help others dream and pursue their own passions. Students and staff reached out for support with their endeavors, calling me inspiring, a role model, and a mentor.

I am committed to the personal, professional, and academic development of the students and staff I work with, and I've learned to allow myself to shine, to set an example for the generations of leaders that will come after me. 

From LAUSD to the Charter World

What's up with leaving LAUSD after 12 years to become a leader in the charter world?

The reason is simple: I wasn't allowed to lead in LAUSD.
Despite degrees, awards, and a solid professional reputation, I did not have the one year of out-of-classroom experience needed to lead at a district school.

So why not just get the year? Why not be a dean or coordinator and work my way up?

As a social studies teacher, my experience, skill set, and personal interests weren't setting me up for the kinds of jobs that were available - jobs that relied heavily on expertise with EL, special education,  testing, or behavioral issues.

I spoke with a central district leader about my situation, asking them whether there was any opportunity for me to lead. I informed this person that Teach for America and charter organizations had previously recruited me for out-of-the-classroom positions and administrator-in-training programs, but that I was committed to a career with LAUSD. This person recommended that I get my experience wherever it was being offered.

So, I resigned from LAUSD and went to organizations that allowed me to grow.

LAUSD has lots of talented teachers who've dedicated over a decade to the classroom, who are now seeking to contribute to the field in a different way. It's a shame that the district has been unable to systematically identify and invest in this talent.

A New Role

I'm six weeks into my new position as an Assistant Principal at a school serving students deep in South Central Los Angeles. I've documented my experience on Twitter, using the hashtag #MyAPJourney, but this is the first time I'm sitting to write about it in greater detail. I thought about documenting my journey in analog format, but I liked the idea of blogging and being able to tag my posts and revisit my ideas and reflections easily. Plus, new and aspiring administrators can also benefit by reading about my first year out of the classroom.

In the first six weeks, I've experienced the following:

Confidence:
For the first two weeks, there were no students at the school. I was merely sitting in PD, learning how to run reports, and building relationships with adults. I felt productive and accomplished, handling my work like a boss.

Frustration:
Working at a co-located school with dysfunctional relationships between administrators had me feeling frustrated about not having access to things that I considered basic: classroom keys, parking keys, elevator keys. The lights and air conditioning units in the rooms worked when they wanted to, and there was no sense of urgency in getting these things fixed. We are now six weeks into the school year, and the teachers on the second floor still don't have classroom keys, and the lights and the AC still don't work. The way the power dynamics work here, our particular school is "borrowing" the site, and we don't really have the authority to demand that things get fixed.

Horror:
In the first three weeks of school, there were five fights between students. I was horrified at the ways in which students disregarded and disrespected the staff of the school, ignoring them or cussing them out. It was common for students to run out of the classroom without permission, and sit angrily on the stairs.

Regret:
I want out! This place is out of control. What have I done? Did I make a huge mistake? I left a school I loved for this?! I gave up my comfortable district salary, benefits, and teaching schedule for this?! I don't think I'll make it through the school year...

Hope:
After four weeks with students, we've managed to gain their trust, build rapport, and cut down on some of the conflict, tardies, and disrespect towards adults. I'm able to see beyond the rage and tough exteriors of the students - and can see their self-doubt, their desire to be inspired, and their ability to change the world. There's a lot of good work to be done here - I can do this!

My feelings started to turn around after the second week with students - I developed relationships with them, and developed respect for their wit, their entrepreneurial spirits, their leadership potential, and their ability to speak out. I also read A LOT - I immersed myself in books that filled me with hope. My reading list included:

1) Pushout: The Criminalization of Black Girls in School - This book reminded me that black girls' voices and bodies are judged harshly, and that their ability to lead and self-advocate is rarely nurtured. Respect is not automatically given to them, and they have learned to demand it.



2) Motivating Black Males to Achieve in School & Life - This was a quick read that gave really practical advice to educators: listen to and appreciate the music your students love; go on community walks and learn about the community you are serving; seek out positive role models that reflect the students' racial identities; establish young men and women's empowerment groups; be able to SEE your students achieving greatness.



3) The Bridge to Brilliance - A school principal's struggle to build a school that teaches and inspires working class black and brown youth to succeed. I cried as I read it, relating to the struggle of inspiring youth that carry so much trauma and rage.