Louisville is known for Muhammad Ali, Slugger baseball bats, women’s professional soccer, Breonna Taylor, and The Kentucky Derby. Kentucky itself is synonymous with bluegrass, bourbon, college basketball, and horses. Not really the south or the midwest, small but large: it’s an odd place. 

The Francis Parker School of Louisville, the progressive school where I work as a member of the English faculty, is situated in downtown Louisville. So, I often found myself considering the city and school community as I sat in Dr. Michelle Robinson’s Zora Neale Hurston course in the summer of 2024. While Hurston was writing about Eatonville, Florida, a much smaller and more rural town, she captured the community’s stories, language, art, history, and people in their own voice. I was determined to bring this loving attention back to my classroom.

Orality as Literacy

I designed the course Oral Literatures and Traditions as an attempt to not only think about the intricacies of language, but also to find a way for students to use orality in their own creative expression. Made up of 9 juniors and seniors, the class studies oral, translated, and transcribed texts. We began by studying the elements of linguistics with African American Vernacular English (AAVE) through the works of Zora Neale Hurston, the Works Projects Administration Slave Narratives, and Gullah Geechee language and culture.

We also looked at a variety of story-based materials—from the ballads of Appalachia to origin stories of the Pueblo people to modern true crime podcasts. Students especially enjoyed exploration of the “murder ballad,” a prominent and important subgenre in the Appalachian music found in eastern Kentucky. We explored how songs travel across time, from Lead Belly to Nirvana. We discussed what makes us want to listen, how we can transcribe memory, and what sonic literacy can help us to create. 

Ultimately, it is a project-based course, focused on the creation of podcast episodes that capture some element of our city and state. Traditional English classes that focus on reading and writing can ignore embodiment practices such as oral storytelling. So, in partnering with Beyond The Page, I aimed to support students in this unique form of self-expression. While only about halfway through the course, it was clear that students are altering their perception of what is possible in using one’s voice to share who we are.

Exploring Our Stories

Early on, I asked students to consider a place, person, or thing that interested them in the city or state. The topics ran the gamut: Bigfoot sightings, tuberculosis hospitals, and bluegrass music. Once students had a topic, they did a deep dive using community resources: the public library and archives, online message boards, interviews, and field visits. They constructed informal annotated bibliographies, focused on documenting their reflections. 

What emerged was a unique patchwork of stories that reflected complex dynamics of race, socioeconomic status, region, gender, and everything between. For example, this student reflects on an article from The University of Louisville’s student newspaper, profiling Louisville artist Jaylin Stewart: 

She started her career in 2016 after losing her cousin to gun violence, leading her to create portraits of victims to honor their memories. Since then, her mural projects have grown to include nearly 30 works across the U.S., using art as a platform for storytelling and community impact. Her work is deeply rooted in spirituality and activism, aiming to bridge gaps and provide inspiration to her community, particularly in the West End of Louisville. 

While her podcast is focused on murals and street art, the student is clearly connected to social and political issues. She is using an independently published resource to learn about activism and art, giving voice to local efforts and people. Her explicit connection to the West End—a predominantly Black community that faces legal, economic, and social barriers and discrimination—demonstrates a growing consciousness in the racial and economic inequities that exist within our city. 

Writing Our Stories 

In the spring, we focused on translating this research to written, and ultimately spoken, word. We drafted hooks and introductions to our podcasts, working to capture an audience who may not know our home as well as we do. 

These students focused on Waverly Hills Sanitorium, a former tuberculosis hospital known for its alleged hauntings: 

Imagine it’s the early 1900’s, the “white” death aka tuberculosis is rampaging your city of Louisville, Kentucky. There is no cure yet for the disease that is wiping out entire towns, the hospital you are sent to offers little to no medication, the only attempt at soothing your symptoms is to place you in sunlight, which was thought to be a cure…

Using a second-person perspective, this student invites us to imagine a Louisvillian’s fear in 1910, not unlike the fear we may have had during the Covid-19 pandemic. An unsaid connection, but one that allows for history to connect with the present. These students, and others focusing on Waverly Hills, go on to investigate allegations of abuse that occurred after Waverly Hills became a nursing home and sensationalism of the deaths that occurred there, forcing us to reckon with unseen parts of its history. 

Other students decided to focus on iconic people, using their subject’s voice, not necessarily their own, to have us question and learn: 

***Audio of Muhamad Ali: “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”***

That was Muhammad Ali, more than just a boxer, he was a cultural icon, an activist, and a legend.

Welcome, today we will dive into the life, legacy, and impact of the greatest of all time. Plus, we have a special guest who actually met Ali, and will share their firsthand experience…

This student goes on to explore not only Ali’s boxing career and activism, but his personality. Through audio clips, some famous and some not, this student allows Ali to speak for himself, nearly 10 years after his death. Likewise, through connection with an elder in our community, this student was able to learn about Ali in a human, highly connected way. 

Working Alongside Students 

Unique to this project is my role as a facilitator, as I am working on the project with the students. I too am producing a podcast episode with a script, citations, and research journal. My episode is focused on Omega National Products, the last remaining disco ball producer in the United States—found right here in Louisville. This unique product as iconography for a genre created by queer people and people of color, opened the opportunity for me to explore and share about these communities in Louisville: 

They [disco balls] filled clubs all over the country, from Studio 54 to Badlands, the first gay club in Louisville, opening in 1973. The bar hosted extravagant drag shows, and was a gathering place for Queer folks in the city.

I intend for this connection to LGBTQ history in the city to give voice and recognition to a group otherwise being used as political fodder in Kentucky. A simple reminder that they have always been present, and are critical to our city’s history. 

In working with students, I am able to model active engagement in the course activities. When students share clips of their podcast or engage in peer review of their writing, I too am able to participate as a learner. This collaboration has created trust among students and myself, as we are engaging in a mutually vulnerable process of sharing our thoughts, voices, and learnings. 

Recording our Stories 

Through a generous grant from The Kathryn Wasserman Davis Collaborative in Conflict Transformation, I was able to secure funding to get supplies and support from Beyond the Page. Armed with our new microphones, we turned to Adobe Podcast Studio, a simple platform for recording and editing, to begin documenting our voices. Together, we learned how to cut and splice, add music, upload clips, and modify our voices for the best sound.

Beyond the Page supported me in working with students, and worked directly with students as they began to record. I observed as Shelley and Louis, two professional actors who work with BtP and have participated in Bread Loaf’s summer programming, support students in harnessing their spoken language. They shared the 3 Ds: declaration, disclosure, and discovery; and guided students in considering their relationship with the readers. Sentence by sentence, I heard and viewed students become more confident in their speaking.

As we continue to record (listen here for a taste), students are excited to share what they have created. Many come in during their free periods and borrow a microphone, working on their class assignment and new found interests. One group of students, with a new understanding of recording, have taken to recording an EP. Another student has considered creating a podcast for their upcoming senior project. Providing a space that honors and legitimizes spoken words has seemed to open a world for many students, and encouraged them to continue learning. 

Looking Forward

My work and that of my students represents the possibilities with sonic literacy and orality in secondary English classrooms. Students are exposed to traditions that rely on, value, and utilize oral speech and sound, often situated within their own identity and/or community. For my students, AAVE is not “broken,” and Appalachian ballads like “Banks of the Ohio” are valuable cultural artifacts. Positioning these texts as valuable allows students to pose questions about representation, identity, economic disparity, violence, and the impacts thereof. 

As my students share the stories of our home, I hope that others begin to understand the uniqueness and value of our community. I hope that they consider what stories they have to tell, and how their voice can be a valuable source of change and connection.