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Today, I told them…¹…that having left Southern Illinois University, Carbondale (SIUC) in June of 2002, I now have moments of sincere longing for the people and the place that gave me permission to grow into my own, for allowing freedom and giving encouragement to be independent and strong, a scholar with voice. It was a place that reveled in its students’ successes and craved their growth, generally speaking. I left in 2002 ready to face the academic world and all of its challenges. But, there is very little that can prepare one for the adult playground of academe for it is a yard that can be fraught with cattiness, passive aggression, and manipulation that is sycophantic at best and soul compromising at worst.Today, I told them……that in Ronald J. Pelias’ essay, “Making Lists: Life at the University,” he enumerates some of the lessons and observations he has made over his multiple years in higher education. He imparts his sage wisdom to new graduate students and, in turn, teaches them about academic culture. I remember taking that introduction to graduate studies course the first semester of my doctoral program. Ron taught it. I remember sitting in class shocked by the beautiful and beastly practices that constituted the life of a scholar in academe. I wondered: “Do I belong here?” Of course, who doesn’t wonder that in the wake of faculty “doing their job,” reminding graduate students how little they truly know? I had those moments of doubt, too, but the doubt that pressed at the time was whether or not I wanted to romp in an academic park where the see-saw wanted to buck you and the merry-go round caused severe vertigo to one's sense of self. It was a park carpeted with river rock and “red crusher,” not refreshing, cool Bluegrass; it was xeriscaped, needing no attention because little could grow without willfulness to spite the climate. My impressions of academia were altered that day in graduate seminar. I had to consider what I wanted and what obtaining a PhD would mean in terms of the politics of everyday life in a place where “resource management” often brought out the base in people. Those weren’t make-believe tales Ron acquainted us with, they were cautionary ones designed to deconstruct any notions naiveté might hold about higher education and its practices. Racism, sexism, and, most definitely, classism were all doing fine and well in the academy, tucked neatly away in the creases and folds of ambiguous tenure requirements, unfair divisions of labor, and competitive self serving. Of course, the academy is also plump with potential, full as a tick, for exploration of and excitement over ideas and culture. It is a place distended with possibility, glutinous with hope. After all, there were alternatives. There had to be.Today, I told them……that I sat in The Kleineau Theatre for the final professional seminar of the school year. It was the last Friday of the spring 2001 semester and I was glad to be finished with the press of all that had to be done in too short a time. I don’t remember many details about that afternoon – who I sat next to or what questions were asked of the speaker – but I do remember the quiet that settled over the place: all sat mesmerized by a methodology of the heart, a different way to do scholarship, one requiring vulnerability and insisting the human body be present. The heart was declared that day, the heart of Ronald J. Pelias.Today, I told them...…that at the time, I had been a member of SIUC's Department of Speech Communication, as a student (both undergraduate and graduate), since fall of 1993. I transferred from a large, urban junior college in San Antonio, Texas to the unknown solace and earthiness of southern Illinois and completed my undergraduate and graduate education at a university I had never known of until my ex-spouse declared its virtues. I unknowingly started down a road that, in time, would cross the path of my doctoral mentor. Oddly enough, a working class, Mexican–American girl from south Texas, would meet a white, middle class, man teaching in the Midwest and who unknowingly would change her life.Today, I told them……that the etched surface of a life can be amazing, a gorgeous patina of age and experience. But, what bleeds through to the surface from underneath or in front of from behind can be just as mesmerizing, just as charming as a heartfelt embrace between old friends.

This narrative describes the author’s experience as an artist, author, and a humanitarian. She uses pictures, art, and collage to make connections between her past, present, and future.

This paper draws in part from data of a larger study on marital lives and divorce of women of various ages and backgrounds residing in metropolitan Turkey. The aim of the overall study has been to understand various factors which have paved the ways leading to divorce and the research method used for the study is based on narrative analysis. An important finding of the study is the control of women’s sexuality which is discussed in this paper with the help of the narratives of three women who are raised by dominant fathers and by subordinated mothers. I argue that gender and generation hierarchies are hidden in the idealized image of family life in low- to middle-income families residing in suburban Turkey. Intergenerational conflicts arise due to three women’s oppression in their young ages by their fathers who have decided upon their marriages to control their sexuality. Yet, as young adults, the three women try to find ways to cope with the control of their sexuality. The analysis of the three women’s narratives reveal their endeavors either to challenge the idealized “virgin bride” norm or to get rid of their unwanted marriages through divorce or separation which can be considered as instances of women’s resistance to patriarchal domination and their search for individuation. How much resistance the three women are able to endeavor is dependent on the aspects of gendered interactions and on the embeddedness of ambivalences in gender role models in the patriarchal gender regime of Turkish society.

The colonially imposed, exploitive, narrow meanings of gendered nurturing have limited how we as Indigenous Ubuntu discourse and dialogue about our contextually diverse, dynamic, and sometimes contradictory meanings about our experiences of being other-mothered and other-fathered (Mucina, 2018; Wane, 2000). In an effort to theorize these Ubuntu experiences of educational leadership beyond my own limited masculine understandings, I center an African intersectional feminist perspective. This theorizing perspective helps me to understand more fulsomely the political leadership women continue to offer in our Ubuntu nations, communities, and families. In this chapter, I want to share three stories about being mothered by my sister-cousin, being community-mothered across ethic identities, and how I am currently being fathered by my father's sister. I want to contend as fraught as it may be that the oratures (stories) I share convey and communicate our understanding of nurturing beyond procreation, which is an important aspect of Ubuntu educational leadership. For example, the orature (story) that I will share about female-fathering offers evidence, which challenges the binary of fathering as a set gendered activity. I also view the telling of these Indigenous Ubuntu stories as an act of creating what Shiv Visvanathan (2016) identified as making space for “cognitive justice.” For me, this means moving our Ubuntu knowledges from the colonially created margins to the shared center of diverse multiple knowledges.

Twenty-first century education has been reconfigured to keep up with growing societal shifts in an effort to support a wide variety of learners. As changes occur, the workload for teachers continues to expand with little to no support and resources within classroom spaces to keep up with the current times. Post pandemic, the expectations and systems have shifted emphasizing the need for more programming around social emotional learning and systems to help mitigate the learning disruption. The insurmountable pressure placed on teachers has led to a robust and persistent departure of the profession causing the entire education system to rethink the policies, structures, and systems that influence teacher burnout.

A personal narrative of my escape with my mother and siblings from South Sudan as refugees is presented. The narrative then chronicles the time in Egypt applying for refugee status and eventual resettlement in the United States. In the United States, resettlement began in Newark, New Jersey. I then document my move from Newark to San Diego, California to, eventually, New York City. In New York my life as a model, DJ, actress, and founder of Stand for Education is narrated.

Purpose – The purpose of this chapter is to explore issues of language, culture, and identity within the context of diversity in educational settings, specifically among teachers and professors of education.

Approach – This chapter explores issues of language, culture and identity through an account of the author's stories of experience as the child of immigrants who survived the Holocaust, a teacher in multicultural classrooms and, particularly, a professor of education.

Findings – This chapter highlights the importance of sharing stories of lived experiences – particularly as they relate to language, culture and identity – as a crucial step in engaging empathetically with the experiences of students from diverse backgrounds. The importance of engaging holistically, emotionally and aesthetically are highlighted.

Research implications – This narrative inquiry makes visible how a professor of education can live out a curriculum alongside her graduate students in education as a way of helping them as teachers live alongside their students.

Value – The value of this chapter is its use of personal narratives and incidents in the university classroom to highlight the importance of caring relationship in the promotion of equity and diversity, especially in relation to language, culture and identity.