In my GED classroom, where many students were expelled in 8th or 9th grade, dropped out for personal reasons, left due to MCAS fears or actual repeated failing of the test, standard English is not the primary language. For most, standard English is a distant and unpleasant memory, which the language of hip-hop has helped to soothe. My task, as their teacher, is to not only to equip them with knowledge enough to pass the GED, but also to suggest the usefulness of standard English beyond the GED, and further, to explore why the language of the test, and other standardized tests, is not often the one of their family, their community, their culture.

The GED test is in what Rev. Jesse Jackson has dubbed "the cash language," a term my students find amusing since "the cash language," as far as they understand it, includes a vocabulary more like "chronic, whips, packin' heat, and bank." The tension between acknowledging the culture of this language and the language that can connect students to opportunity has become a daily struggle both in and out of the classroom. Out of the classroom, I wonder of the origins of their language. How did "chronic" come to replace "weed" or "pot," and how did cars come to be called "whips?" "Packin' heat," as just one of a hundred ways to say someone is carrying a gun. "Bank," one of what seems thousands of ways to refer to money.

In the classroom, I search for the perfect teaching practice as I attempt to express my respect for their culture, while also attempting to engage them in conversations and lessons that may lead to a road out of "the hood." How do I leave intact their identity and yet reinforce the importance of subject-verb agreement, comma splices, and parallel structure? I struggle with opinions such as that of Prof. Todd Boyd, who suggests that black urban youth, "be all the nigga' they can be," to not just talk about it, but "live it." He quotes rap artist Redman to support this: "I scored a 1.1 on my SAT/ and still push a whip/ with a right and left AC." I struggle with it because the young men with whom I have interacted, who are trying desperately to be all the nigga' they can be, are in and out of juvenile facilities most of their teenage years. I struggle with it because I think that the language and culture of hip-hop is not enough to see my students through to sustainable empowerment.

Framing the importance of learning Standard English within the safe confines of, "If you want to pass the GED, you have to know it," cleanly avoids helping students understand what they are truly up against in society. Furthermore, students who learn material simply because it is on the test are significantly less likely to pass as they have no context in which to store whatever knowledge they may be gaining. My students understand and retain the language of rap because its context is real. It is the drugs they handle, the money they seek, the friends they have lost, the guns they have carried. I cannot easily make real or appealing the context of Standard English to my students as it is the language of the cops who arrest them, the judges who sentence them, and perhaps most importantly, the schools in which they were unsuccessful. All of my students are either Black or Hispanic, and asking them to envision a future life where they would use Standard English is asking them to have a lot of faith. They must place faith in a society whose open doors have eluded them thus far, and an even deeper faith must be placed in their own power to reach those doors. GED can be the beginning of this journey, but it must be supported as a beginning and not as a temporary trick to chase away probation officers.

However, this also means that there must be motivation that runs deeper than keeping probation officers and jail sentences at bay. True commitment to one's GED, and to one's future, does not come through such external powers as officers, judges, and case workers. Threats and verbal rewards can only wield so much power over someone who has already entered into a state of insentience. It is rather an internal motivation, that stirring of the soul, that part of us which believes in possibility, that authentically engages learning in hopes of results. While it is not I who can ignite this internal stirring, it is I who can attempt to sustain it and guide it by creating a meaningful classroom experience.

What makes the early weeks of my GED class unique is that students are reintroduced to themselves as learners. One of the most common complaints regarding their time in public schools is, "We never learned anything." Whether or not people tried to teach them is, unfortunately, not the question.  Instead, the question becomes, "Do these students think they are capable of learning?" People learn best in the environments where they are comfortable, where they feel safe, and for minority students school is a place that offers neither comfort nor safety. Not only is the environment unsettling, but also the content being peddled seems useless. As Linda Christensen explains, "It's about other people in other times." (Christensen, 2000) Rarely are high school students invited to be active in their learning process, to be the ones wielding the power. They wield power when they choose to participate in GED. And when a student chooses it—even as an alternative to risking lock-up—a teacher has a place to begin.

Even though I still sometimes dread the look of confusion and hurt, when we talk about "She haves to make a decision," versus "She has to make a decision," that discussion signals that the doors are open to conversation about language. When we talk about the barriers created by only speaking one language, an easement can be built for both cultural and academic understanding. "How many countries can you travel to if you only speak German?" I ask my students. And despite the fact that they are not quite sure of the exact answer, they know it's not many. "Yeah, but what if someone does not want to travel to another country?" they ask me. By being here, in GED class, I tell them that they already have their passport and now it's a choice. The contexts that can make fluency a reality for my students are few and far between for the moment, but with help from volunteer speakers, testimonies from various books, and class discussions, Standard English becomes an acceptable tool to carry when seeking new opportunities.

References
Christensen, Linda (2002). Reading, Writing, and Rising Up: Teaching About Social Justice and the Power of the Written Word. Milwaukee, WI: Rethinking Schools.

Sandy Little,who has a master's degree in urban education from Clarke University, is in her second year teaching GED to students involved with the Department of Youth Services. She can be reached at: sjlittle@worldnet.att.net