CHAPTER 1
We Can Do So Much More
A buena hambre, no hay pan duro. (To the very hungry, there is no hard bread.)
"Write down the first three ideas that come to mind when you think about the Dominican Republic" was the Do Now on the chalkboard as my eighth-grade students took their seats, engaging in some last-minute horseplay before class began. When the bell rang, half of them were already busy writing, while the rest were either flipping to a clean page in their notebooks or searching for pens.
One minute into class, I read the Do Now aloud as a subtle prod to the last two distracted students. Since we hadn't discussed the Caribbean much at this point in the year, I asked for a volunteer to share one thought she had so far. A hand went up, but before she spoke, I told the class that I was going to write down my predictions of what their responses would be. (Feel free to play along.) When I finished my short list, I went back to the volunteer, and she shared "white sand beaches" with a proud smile.
When most students appeared done, because they were perusing their current events magazines, I headed back to my lectern and held up my paper with the following terms on it: "tropical paradise," "beautiful Caribbean beaches," "summer vacation." "Please raise your hand if you wrote down any of these words," I said. (You too, reader.) The students took the customary look around the room and, as they saw some vertical movement, more hands slowly rose—nearly 100 percent.
"Okay," I said. "Now, keep your hand up if you had more than one of my words on your list." About half of the hands remained up. My next question revealed my psychology background: "Why do you think I wanted everybody to share their thoughts on the Dominican Republic in this format?"
"Probably to prove us wrong," a student called out with a mischievous grin, and he was quickly rewarded with laughter. After fifteen years of teaching, I have grown comfortable enough to be myself in front of students, so I joined in with a smile.
"No. At least not this time," I said. "Actually, your answers were very accurate. The Dominican Republic, 'the country of endless summer,' is a beautiful tropical paradise with the most pristine beaches I have ever strolled." I gestured to a nearby photo of the country. "With New Jersey being a close second," I said with a grin. "Your answers were remarkable, but as is often said, there are two sides to every story. What do you think I mean by that?"
"I think it means that we have more work to do," another brave student called out.
(It took many years to create a casual climate in my classroom, which has earned the nickname "our sanctuary"—a place where students may express themselves without fear of repercussions from me or their peers. Considering that my longest class is 101 minutes, and considering the stress of a typical teenager's life, class is much more enjoyable and productive when students feel in charge of their own learning and are not forced to work on stale, prefabricated assignments.)
Getting back to the notion that there are two sides to every story, I asked the students for an example. "It's sort of like when you teach about war," one said. "All countries involved are convinced they are the good guys."
Finally, a straight answer. (See, we eventually arrive at our destination. I just prefer to take a more scenic route.) "Excellent connection!" I said. "So, then, why do most people only give romantic descriptions when they first think about the Dominican Republic?"
"The media!" a chorus of students sitting next to one another called out, and I smiled.
"What if I told you that when I think about the DR, as a social studies teacher, the first words that come to my mind are 'poverty,' 'prostitution,' and 'exploitation'?"
A student challenged me. "I thought you don't use the word 'prostitution.'"
"You are absolutely correct," I said. "I have tried to stop using that word after a conversation with my good friend Webster. When I consulted the dictionary, I noticed terms like 'immoral' and 'unworthy' were listed in defining 'prostitute,' which years ago would have been fine, but after meeting with women who are sex workers who educate the new generation on issues from abuse to disease, a shift in my thinking took place. My current classroom stance is to start with the word 'prostitute,' which is the more familiar term, then quickly switch over to 'sex worker,' which, for some, is a tougher phrase."
As the last words fell off my tongue, I suddenly felt that I might have gone too far. But I also thought that, as a teacher who constantly encourages his students to go outside their comfort zones on class assignments, I had to occasionally put myself out there. Of course, the students' gaping jaws were easy to translate: Mr. D'Amato had meetings with prostitutes?
The context was this: On my first visit to the Dominican Republic in 2007, on a social justice tour run by my colleague Kevin LaMastra, a man sin pelos en la lengua (without hair on the tongue; not scared to speak the truth), we met with a few workers from CEPROSH (Centro de Promoción y Solidaridad Humana, or the Center for Human Promotion and Solidarity) to gain a better understanding of the problems faced by a large number of women on the island, many of them minors. As part of Kevin's prep talk for this meeting, he referred to sex work as a "byproduct of globalization." Admittedly, I was quite skeptical of this particular event on our itinerary, which had us participating in an hour-long discussion led by the organization's program director, a health-care specialist, and a sex worker. My doubts grew when the CEPROSH employees displayed the graphic pages of the comic book Maritza, featuring a play-by-play encounter with a customer, and then a detailed flip chart they use to teach young women about the dangers of their profession, similar to what you were forced to watch during high school health class.
The only question I asked during the presentation was about the claim I had heard that, oftentimes, it was the sex workers' own parents who urged the young girls to take to the streets to earn money for the family. The professionals quickly debunked this myth, listing materialism followed by peer pressure as their top motivators. Surprisingly, the speakers made no mention of sex workers choosing the profession to provide a better future for their children. There appears to be a divide between those who believe sex workers choose the work primarily to support their families and others who claim they use that as an excuse to avoid...
