Trying to Fit a Square Peg into a Round Hole 10 _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Global Education Review is a publication of The School of Education at Mercy University, New York. This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, permitting all non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. Citation: Levy, Roseanne Vallice. (2023). Trying to Fit a Square Peg into a Round Hole: Being Indian American in the USA. Global Education Review, 10 (4), 10-20. Trying to Fit a Square Peg into a Round Hole: Being Indian American in the USA Roseanne Vallice Levy Mercy University Abstract The author shares her journey as an Indian American within the U.S. education system, weaving personal experiences using Krashen's Affective Filter Hypothesis. From early linguistic challenges to transformative moments in higher education and as a secondary teacher, the author reflects on the impact of educational environments on identity and language development. Her narrative resonates with Krashen's principles and emphasizes the importance of translanguaging and how raciolinguistic ideology impacted her early schooling years. This narrative serves as a testament to the enduring interplay between emotions and learning, showcasing the universal significance of fostering supportive environments for language acquisition and personal growth within the realm of education. The author highlights the importance of inclusive education, culturally responsive pedagogy, and recognizing student identity within the classroom setting. Keywords Bilingual learner, translanguaging, raciolinguistic ideology, student identity The Student I remember waking up very early, as it was still dark outside. My mother seemed very excited and nervous when she shouted, “Kintergarten adhia devassam!” [First day of kindergarten!] in Malayalam. My father slowly guided me to the bathroom and helped me to brush my teeth while she vigorously brushed and parted my hair, adding a headband as the final touch. She dressed me in a flowy green top and matching bell-bottom pants, which she thought looked beautiful against my caramel- toned skin and pitch-black hair, cut by my father precisely every six months in the middle of our kitchen. I recall feeling that something important was happening, but I wasn’t sure why the day was special. I remember holding my father’s hand as my parents and I left our apartment building. The day was crisp and bright, as expected for a September day in New York. My parents dropped me off at a door with many other children who were walking into the classroom. Feeling panicked and uneasy about the number of children, I remember hiding behind my father’s leg, my large, mahogany brown eyes suspiciously surveying the environment and the situation. When another adult took my hand, and my parents snuck out the door, a feeling of homesickness settled inside me. Little did I know that this would be the first day that I would be told I “was not from around here,” even though “here” is all that I knew. Trying to Fit a Square Peg into a Round Hole 11 In the very first hours of kindergarten, my first core memory of school was formed. As my classmates and I sat on the colorful mat, my teacher, a White woman with grey-white hair, prompted me, “Roseanne, tell everyone where you are from.” I recall saying, “New York,” to which she responded with a smile, “No, where you are REALLY from.” Nervous and slightly panicked, I feared I would not answer correctly because I didn’t understand the question. For a five-year-old whose dominant language is Malayalam, what does “really from” even mean? I was born and raised in a suburb in Westchester County, New York, the oldest child of Indian immigrants who came from Kerala to the United States in the early 1970s to seek the “American Dream” for themselves and their future family. My parents came to this country because they believed that the opportunity for a better life and financial security were possible for all, regardless of one's background or circumstances. Until the age of six, my primary language was Malayalam; English was secondary. By age four, I had failed two Montessori school interviews because I refused to answer the headmistresses’ questions, remaining utterly silent. I spoke little English at that age, though I understood spoken English very well, having learned from my parents and TV shows such as What’s Happening, The Jeffersons, Happy Days, and Laverne & Shirley. During these two interviews, I vividly remember my parents being asked to speak louder and to repeat themselves often because the headmistresses could not understand their Indian accents. As I reflect on this experience, my choice in not saying a word was not because I did not understand what was being communicated; rather, it was due to the fear of responding incorrectly or inappropriately and, as a result, embarrassing myself and my parents. Looking back now, I see that I “failed” those interviews because the schools expected me to fit in a certain box; a box which held standards and expectations that had little to no regard for race, ethnicity, and culture. Thankfully, my parents were patient with me, and we three (it was a real family effort) were finally accepted into our neighborhood YWCA’s nursery program. I was painfully shy and my nursery schoolteacher told my parents at the start of the school year that she believed I had mutism. My mother told the teacher she was talking about the wrong child because at home, I was like a feral cat: wild, temperamental, energetic, bossy, and talkative. I was a chatterbox with my family and family friends, but at school I was the quietest student. Even though I spoke fractured English, I understood every word—which meant I understood everything my teachers were saying about me. My expressive skills in English were fractured and somewhat dysfluent due to the lack of experience speaking the language. My anxieties about speaking were precisely due to my awareness that I did not sound like my peers, and my self-confidence and fears about sounding different, or of fully recalling specific vocabulary, impacted the perceptions others had of me. To my teachers I was disabled, unable, incapable, and needed to be fixed. These experiences can be framed using Krashen’s Affective Filter Hypothesis (1986). This hypothesis posits that emotional factors, such as motivation, anxiety, and self-confidence, can influence the success of language acquisition. A high affective filter, due to anxiety or lack of motivation, can impede language learning, while a low affective filter facilitates it. As a I reflect on my first days of school, it is evident that many of my teachers did not understand the bilingual and bicultural 12 Global Education Review 10 (4) experience, and most did not even consider me “American.” What they failed to recognize was that I was a four-year-old child who had lived in a bilingual home, cognitively had developed two languages in a simultaneous way, and was exposed to a bicultural environment. What they did not understand was that my experiences were vastly different from their own and, instead of admiring and nurturing the richness, they opted to label such experiences as abnormal and in need of repair. Further, since English was not my first language, my teachers viewed this from a deficit- based perspective. Deficit thinking, also known as deficit model or deficit perspective, refers to the view that individuals or groups are lacking in some way compared to a perceived norm, often focusing on weaknesses rather than strengths. In the context of bilingualism, deficit thinking can manifest as the belief that being bilingual or multilingual is a disadvantage rather than an asset (Garcia, 2014). My teachers did not understand the dynamics of receptive and expressive acquisition and performance in second language acquisition. According to Leslie Duhaylongsod (2023), it is critical for educators “to disrupt the deficit language, deficit-based perspectives and deficit-based narratives about preK-12 students with marginalized identities.” (p. 56). Duhaylongsod adds that this ideology is common in schools, institutions of higher education, and within communities. However, for my two Montessori school headmistresses and kindergarten teacher, my Indian parents and I signaled to them a racial component that was immediate, visible, and indicative of difference. This mindset can be linked to the raciolinguistic ideology which explores the ways in which language is entangled with race and examines how linguistic features and practices are used to construct and reinforce racial distinctions. (Garivaldo & Fabiano-Smith, 2023; Flores, 2020; Flores et.al., 2015). Raciolinguistic ideologies are embedded in social structures, historical contexts, and power dynamics, shaping perceptions about the relationships between language, race, and identity (Flores et.al., 2015; Flores, 2020; Garivaldo & Fabiano-Smith, 2023). According to Flores (2020): Raciolinguistic ideologies were foundational to European colonialism and continue to be used to justify the continued maintenance of white supremacy by suggesting that the roots of racial inequalities lie in the linguistic deficiencies of racialized communities and that the solution to these racial inequalities is to modify their language practices. (p. 24) These ideologies assert that the linguistic shortcomings of racialized communities are at the core of racial inequalities and propose that the remedy for these disparities lies in altering their language behaviors (Flores, 2020). As a result, many educators assume that speaking English is what is expected and desirable, and other linguistic repertoires are relegated to less than and even inferior positions. The study of raciolinguistic ideology also investigates how language is employed to signify and perpetuate racial hierarchies and stereotypes. It explores the lived experiences of individuals and communities whose language practices may be subject to racialization (Flores et.al., 2015; Flores, 2020; Garivaldo & Fabiano- Smith, 2023). Understanding raciolinguistic ideology is essential for addressing issues of linguistic discrimination, promoting equity, and fostering inclusive language practices, all of which would have been beneficial if applied during my early years of schooling. For example, Trying to Fit a Square Peg into a Round Hole 13 having access to an adult that spoke Malayalam during the first year of Pre-K would have immediately clarified my verbal abilities. Additionally, in the absence of such an adult, teachers could have asked my parents to record me at home, rather than assuming and accepting the presence of a disability such as mutism. During this critical stage of learning and schooling, translanguaging would have aided me as a young bilingual and bicultural learner. Translanguaging is an approach to language education that challenges traditional notions of strict language separation. This approach recognizes that individuals naturally draw on their entire linguistic repertoire, including their primary and secondary languages, to communicate effectively (Garcia & Wei, 2014). Unlike conventional language teaching methods that emphasize language compartmentalization, translanguaging acknowledges the fluidity and interconnectedness of languages in the learning process. In a translanguaging classroom, students are encouraged to seamlessly move between languages, utilizing their multilingual capabilities to enhance comprehension, express complex ideas, and deepen their understanding of subject matter (Garcia, 2014; Hornberger & Link, 2012). This approach empowers students to leverage their linguistic diversity as an asset rather than viewing it as a potential hindrance. By recognizing and embracing the linguistic diversity present in classrooms, educators can create a more inclusive and supportive learning environment. This approach is not only applicable in language-focused classes but can also be integrated across subjects, contributing to a more holistic and effective educational experience for students from diverse linguistic backgrounds. As educators increasingly explore innovative language teaching methods, translanguaging stands out as a promising framework that acknowledges the linguistic richness of students and encourages a more inclusive and effective approach to education. Students who learn in such an environment have a stronger sense of belonging and identity (Garcia, 2014; Garcia & Wei, 2014; Lee & Suarez, 2009). Going back on the anecdote that opened this article, I slowly began to realize when I started elementary school what “Roseanne, tell everyone where you are really from” really meant. For my teachers and classmates, the expected response was, “I’m _________. (list ethnicity here).” During those critical schooling years, I unconsciously identified myself as The Outsider everywhere I went. In the United States, I was Indian first and American second because I felt secondary as an American. However, when my family and I would travel to India to visit relatives, I identified as American because I wasn’t considered Indian in India. I was The Outsider: a square peg that could not fit in the round hole. The years that followed were heavily sprinkled with questions and confusion specific to my identity and many moments of wondering where I fit. I was most comfortable with myself and my identity when I was with my family and our family friends. My family friends and I shared the same background as first-generation Indian Americans who were trying to strike the right balance of being Indian and being American. We grew up being called “dothead” and frequently received shouts of “Go home, you Gandhis!” in various neighborhood playgrounds from our White neighbors and peers. I remember telling my parents in the third grade, “What does that even mean? We don’t even look like him—he’s old!” I recall not having a sense of belonging, the constant struggle of trying to fit in. Though New York and the United States were the only homes I knew, I was constantly 14 Global Education Review 10 (4) unsettled by the idea that others did not see me as a New Yorker and American. As a result of these experiences, I did not enjoy going to school. Friday was my favorite day of the week and Sunday was the worst. The sound of the secondhand ticking on CBS’s 60 Minutes on Sunday evenings would trigger anxiety that would spin into a tornado. I now look back and realize that I had severe anxiety disorder as a child, which manifested in ways such as vomiting before school, faking illnesses, and incredible timidity. I was certainly not an active participant in the classroom but maintained good grades, and as a result was regarded as a well-behaved student. I was the child who would not reach out to my teachers for help if I didn’t understand the material because it was a way to avoid feeling devalued by my teachers. My tremendous dislike in attending school was a result of my racialized experiences with teachers, which led to my mistrust of teachers who, during my early years of school, spoke negatively about me not knowing that I understood English. I feel as if I survived my P-12 schooling experiences and consider it more of an endurance experience rather than a successful educational experience. Throughout those years, I struggled with my identity and finding my voice, especially because others attempted to reconstruct my identity according to their own values and beliefs. They shook my core and destabilized my feelings about school and learning, which added to my anxieties about my abilities. I finally began to uncover my identity in the last half of my senior year in high school. Perhaps it was because the end of high school was near and college was so close—or because I found a diverse group of friends who also felt like Outsiders in their own ways, friends who celebrated diversity and were discovering their own identities. I was also extremely fortunate to have parents who were fully involved with my education and who supported me when my anxiety was unmanageable. My parents came from a culture and generation that expected them to move onward and upward despite any obstacles or challenges that got in their way. Though I have maintained that mindset myself, it is necessary to be mindful that it is not a one- size-fits-all philosophy. School should not be a place where students try merely to survive, rather teachers should be focused on ensuring that all of their students thrive. Furthermore, it is important for teachers to consider student identity because it plays a crucial role in shaping students’ experiences, perspectives, and learning outcomes. Student identity encompasses various aspects, including but not limited to race, ethnicity, gender, socioeconomic status, culture, language, and abilities. As Krashen’s Affective Filter Hypothesis (1986) posits, by acknowledging and valuing student identity, a more inclusive learning environment where all students feel welcomed, respected, and affirmed can be developed. When students see their identities reflected and acknowledged in the classroom, it fosters a sense of belonging, which is crucial for their overall well-being and academic success. Recognizing student identity also allows teachers to incorporate diverse perspectives, histories, and experiences into their curriculum. By including culturally relevant materials, examples, and discussions, teachers can make learning more meaningful and relatable to students from diverse backgrounds. This approach enhances student engagement, motivation, and retention of knowledge. Moreover, student identity influences how individuals learn and process information. Teachers who understand their students’ Trying to Fit a Square Peg into a Round Hole 15 identities can tailor their instruction to accommodate diverse learning styles, strengths, and needs. By incorporating different instructional strategies, adapting content, and providing appropriate support, teachers can help each student flourish academically. Additionally, it is paramount to identify implicit biases and stereotypes that inadvertently influence how teachers perceive and interact with their students. Awareness of student identities helps educators recognize their own biases and work towards addressing them. By challenging stereotypes and treating each student as an individual, teachers can ensure fair and equitable treatment for all. This is critical to strengthening students’ social- emotional development, as student identity is closely tied to socio-emotional development (Kim, 2023). Identity and the sense of belonging are two critical factors teachers should consider when working with students. My identity came alive upon entering New York University in the fall of 1993. NYU was my first safe place. It was the place where I came out of my shell, a place where I truly felt I belonged. My roommate was my best friend whom I have known since the age of two. She, too, is a first-generation Indian American and knowing she would be with me for the next four years provided me with a sense of comfort and self-confidence. Moreover, the initial joy in seeing classmates who looked like me and who came from very similar backgrounds was indescribable. The vast majority of my friends were first-generation Indian Americans who were having the same lived experiences as me. We were all trying to find our places in this white-dominated, Eurocentric society, but the need to fit into a specific box was slowly unraveling. Additionally, many of my professors came from diverse backgrounds, and it was amazing to learn from their culturally rich and diverse perspectives. Attaining this sense of belonging and fully embracing my identity allowed me to be comfortable with who I am. My shyness dissipated as I branched out and became an active member of our South Asian student organization, something I would never have considered earlier in life. Had my educational experience not transformed from mere survival into the diverse, supported experience that it did, my confidence and sense of belonging would have remained stifled. It is only with my confidence and my feeling of being supported that I made the choices and pursued the paths that brought me to where I am today The Teacher The student who hated school became a teacher; a paradoxical journey that unfolded during the pursuit of a master's degree in Secondary Education, with a focus on social studies and special education. The revelation of my identity, which I believed had been unveiled during my time at NYU, was surpassed by the transformative experience that awaited me upon embarking on my teaching career. In the culminating year of my graduate studies, while immersed as a full-time student, an unforeseen opportunity presented itself—an offer to assume a teaching position as a special educator at an urban high school in Connecticut. This unexpected development, occurring a mere two days before the commencement of the academic year, immersed me in a realm of palpable anxiety and a sense of unreadiness. The challenge was compounded when my department chair, shortly before the school year's onset, entrusted me with the responsibility of teaching both social studies and biology. A subject matter last encountered in my freshman year of high school, biology demanded 16 Global Education Review 10 (4) intensive commitment, prompting evenings and weekends dedicated to exhaustive lesson planning and copious reading. The beginning months of the academic year included incredibly early mornings at my desk, consumed by the endeavor of refining daily lesson plans and contemplating the well-being of my students. Persistent thoughts regarding the optimization of classroom engagement and pedagogical clarity permeated my consciousness. Within the second month of my first year of teaching, I realized that a significant proportion of students in my self-contained special education classes were Black males, some who were seemingly misplaced and better suited for integration into general education settings. Drawing from firsthand experiences as a former Outsider within the educational system, I could recognize and empathize with the plight of my marginalized students. One such student, identified as "James," stood out within the initial weeks of the academic year. His reading and language proficiencies were certainly at grade level, perhaps even higher. I spoke with James, his mother, and my colleagues and, collectively, we decided to have him reevaluated. It was unclear why James had demonstrated low performance on his previous test administration, or what factors had affected his performance, but his results on the reevaluation strongly supported my initial belief that he would be best served in a general education social studies classroom. Leveraging the relationships and friendships established with special education and general education content teachers, a strategic placement was orchestrated, aligning James with a colleague renowned for a robust classroom management style. The subsequent success of James and my other students transitioning from self-contained settings underscored the efficacy of the chosen colleagues, whose classrooms were characterized by culturally responsive pedagogy and instruction. The environments they cultivated proved to be highly engaging, interactive, and conducive to the academic flourishing of students within a framework of safety and comfort. Crucial to this success was the inclusion of James's mother as an integral member of the team, reinforcing the notion that familial involvement is tantamount to academic success. Establishing and nurturing trust with families are paramount, considering the prevalent skepticism many parents harbor toward educators, stemming from prior negative experiences. Overcoming this initial barrier is imperative, as trust forms the bedrock upon which constructive partnerships between teachers and families can be built. Once trust is established, and parents are reassured that educators are genuinely invested in the children's well-being, communication channels open, paving the way for positive outcomes. This collaborative approach not only benefits the student but also contributes to the holistic development of family members and enhances the overall effectiveness of the school community. While engaging in discourse and collaboration with families, I also acquired insights into their approaches to parenting and behavior management. This knowledge was subsequently integrated into my pedagogical practices, encompassing diverse styles, to facilitate a seamless transition for students moving from the home to school environment. It was imperative to exercise caution against the propensity for stereotyping and constructing unwarranted assumptions and recognizing the uniqueness of each familial dynamic. Trying to Fit a Square Peg into a Round Hole 17 The adoption of varied behavior management styles aimed at accommodating the diverse parenting approaches observed among my students' families played a pivotal role in fostering a more harmonious integration between the home and school settings. Further, essential to this paradigm shift is the distinction between talking with parents as opposed to talking to them and emphasizing the importance of genuine dialogue over unilateral communication. This shift in perspective acknowledges parents as active participants in their children's educational journeys rather than passive recipients of information. Reflecting on my own formative years, I recognize the potential benefits that could have accrued had such communication been prioritized. While engaging in communication and collaboration with the families of my students, I systematically assessed their distinctive approaches to averting and addressing challenging behaviors. This process facilitated the incorporation of culturally responsive strategies into my pedagogical framework, thereby contributing to the creation of a culturally sensitive and inclusive classroom environment. One of the strategies my selected colleagues and I used was culturally influenced oral interactions (Delpit, 1988). In particular, we used demand-requests rather than question- requests in our classrooms. For example, I was raised in a demand-request environment. My parents did not ask me questions to remind me of chores. They told me to do my chores. I was never asked, “Do you think it’s time for you to clean your room?” Rather, I was told, “Go clean your room.” As a student, I responded well to demand-requests because that was how I was raised. I vividly remember an encounter I had with my second-grade teacher. During a change in subjects, my teacher mistakenly thought I still had the previous subject’s book out. At that time, book covers were required and popular. My books were covered with pages from my father’s favorite magazine, National Geographic, which he used to wrap them, and many of the covers were filled with scenes of mountains and lakes. As my teacher began the new subject, she asked me, “Do you think that’s the book you should have out?” Knowing that I had the correct book out, but confused as to why she would ask, I responded, “I don’t know. Is it?” Unfortunately, my teacher took this as disrespect, and my parents received a phone call home. When it came to education, my parents were heavily involved despite their hectic work schedules. After hearing my version of the story, they were in the principal’s office the next day explaining what had occurred and, thankfully, the misunderstanding was cleared up. That incident occurred because I was a demand-request student with a question-request teacher. Thankfully, I had parents who were able to advocate for me; otherwise, the situation would have remained a misunderstanding, and my future responses would have continued to be considered impertinent. The reason that my former students transitioned well from a self- contained setting to general education was because of their teachers’ culturally responsive pedagogy and behavior management styles, which mirrored how my students were being raised by their families, as well as frequent communication and collaboration with my students’ families. Through collaborative endeavors with numerous families and colleagues, a collective effort was undertaken to cultivate a sense of community aimed at bolstering the support infrastructure for our students. Most importantly, my students’ identities and cultures were considered assets, not deficits. 18 Global Education Review 10 (4) Conclusion “Roseanne, tell everyone where you are from.” Now, as a teacher educator serving proudly at a Minority Serving Institution, I can answer this question confidently. I am an Indian American, born and raised in New York by Indian parents who emigrated to the United States and are U.S. citizens. I am also an Overseas Citizen of India, which means I have a life-long visa to travel to and from my family’s homeland. For the most part, my educational experiences from P-12 lacked the culturally relevant and responsive pedagogy, social- emotional learning, and sense of belonging that I so needed. Remarkably, prior to enrolling in my doctoral program and encountering Lisa Delpit's (1988) insightful article delineating culturally influenced oral interactions as a strategic pedagogical approach, I had already implemented such practices within my classroom. The revelation of this alignment with established pedagogical strategies occurred during my inaugural doctoral class, under the guidance of Dr. Jim Paul from the University of South Florida. The ensuing discourse within a diverse cohort of doctoral classmates fostered an environment where literature was critically examined, resonating with our varied backgrounds, and drawing connections to our formative P-12 learning and teaching experiences. Scholars such as Geneva Gay, Gloria Ladson-Billings, Lisa Delpit, Carl Banks, Deirdre Cobb-Roberts, and many more left indelible marks on me. It was during my first two years of doctoral studies that I began to completely unpack my identity and these discussions illuminated the systemic shortcomings within the educational paradigm and continue to inform my role as a teacher educator. It was during this process that I realized the importance of disseminating this information to pre-service and in-service teachers, because there are so many children in schools who feel like The Outsider and who do not feel a sense of belonging. As a teacher educator, my classroom serves as a sanctuary where community and relationships are cultivated and prioritized. Recognizing the teacher's role in setting the tone, I commence each class session with a deliberate moment of reflection. In this contemplative pause I consider how I, as a younger learner, would have benefited from an educator fostering positive self-confidence and creating an environment conducive to mutual support, accountability, and safe expression of behaviors. It has been recently noted that, “[t]he percentage of public school students in the United States who were Els [English Learners] increased overall between fall 2010 (9.2 percent, or 4.5 million students) and fall 2020 (10.3 percent, or 5.0 million students)” (National Center for Education Statistics, 2023). Furthermore, “78.3% of bilingual students come from racially minoritized communities. Therefore, race, ethnicity, and bilingualism are inextricably linked” (Garivaldo & Fabiano- Smith, 2023, p. 766). Whereas dual and multiple languages should be celebrated, my bilingualism was considered a detriment in my early schooling years. The Outsider who began to speak English fluently by the middle of kindergarten, I lost the spoken fluency of my native language, Malayalam, by the end of that school year. Presently, I am gratified to preside over a close-knit and diverse community at my metaphorical kitchen table, akin to Michelle Obama's reference to her circle of friends (Obama, 2023). This diverse assemblage, hailing from varied walks of life, imparts invaluable Trying to Fit a Square Peg into a Round Hole 19 insights and contributes to my continual growth as an individual. While remnants of “The Outsider” sentiments persist in certain contexts, the impact of such situations has diminished, owing to the coping mechanisms cultivated within the supportive community that envelops me. Reflecting upon my journey, I would convey to my four-year-old self a message of assurance—urging faith and belief in the unfolding path ahead. Additionally, it is important to note that teachers leave enduring and indelible marks on their students, and it is crucial for them to understand the power they have. Every single student has their own rich narrative, life experiences, and identity which should be explored, celebrated and shared within the classroom. Acknowledgement This article is a chapter from an edited book (Levy, R.V. & Rosa, L.), Learning to Teach: Teacher Educators’ Stories to Clarify, Empower and Overcome, which focuses on the stories of a select group of diverse teacher educators who come together to share how their combined experiences as PK-12 students, PK-12 teachers, and teacher educators impact their perception of education and ways to teach and learn. Additionally, the authors share their perceptions of effective teaching practices that positively impact culturally diverse, multilingual learners. A focus on social justice, equity and inclusion is included. This book is scheduled to be published in summer 2024. References Delpit, L. D. (1988). The Silenced Dialogue: Power and Pedagogy in Educating Other People's Children. Harvard Educational Review, 58(3), 280. Duhaylongsod, L. (2023). Dismantling deficit ideology one email at a time. 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