ANÁLISIS DE LA QUIRALIDAD DELFOSFATO QUE INTERVIENE EN LA UNIÓN DE LA PROTEÍNA RepB AL dso DE pLSl.

Immediately after walking into the front door, I am struck by crowds of students milling about before the first class bell whose loud conversations and early-morning energy echo the hectic appearance of the entrance itself. Overhanging flags and laminated papers with ‘hello’ written in various languages visually express the diverse backgrounds of the students and their families – yet none display two languages or two national heritages, exemplifying a monolingual paradigm of migrant families stemming from one country with one non-German mother

language (see Yildiz, 2012). An array of photographs of past students holding signs declaring “I stand against bullying” decorate the back wall, reminding the current body of past initiatives that persist in spirit. A collage with different signs and images hangs next to this with a hand- written note displaying “a school for all children, however they look” next to a picture of a fifth- grade classroom and a list of the 48 languages spoken by students here. On the right-hand side of the entrance are two doorways, one into the secretary’s office and the other into the

teacher’s lounge, while hallways head off in every other direction towards classrooms and the broad main staircase to my left provides easy access to more classes, including DaZ. A poster hangs directly over the entrance to the teacher’s lounge, exclaiming boldly and proudly that this school is a “Schule ohne Rassismus – Schule mit Courage” (‘school without racism – school with courage’). This certificate confirms that, since 2016, Karl-Eberhard has been a part of this

nation-wide initiative to counteract discrimination and racism in educational contexts, with students pledging to fight these barriers to integration and participating in week-long projects annually to actualize this mission. These visual markers of tolerance and inclusion welcome me and the diverse student body daily, serving to remind those on school grounds that this really is supposed to be a school for all, a Gemeinschaftsschule true to its name8_.

Turning right, I head towards the teacher’s lounge that is segmented by a door that symbolically demarcates ‘student’ and ‘teacher’ space. Two girls stand outside the entrance, allowing me to pass through the open doorway, though they dare not enter themselves – students may not enter this space and instead must ask another teacher to pass the message along. I smile to them and pass by, wishing I could assist but knowing that I would not be helpful, as I have only been at the school for a month and still only knew a few of the teacher’s names (and of those, only their first names). The school is rather large with about 650 students and 60 teachers, but conversations amongst teachers are demarcated by which grade and classroom they teach. As such, I sit at my seat in the inner half of the large circle of desks and converse across the table with my co-worker, Herr S., who teaches English and Math for the DaZ students. Next to me, other teachers are discussing class assignments or relay a story that happened the previous evening, and although I sit right next to them, I am not an active

participant. The teachers are assigned desks around the large table without any differentiations afforded to subject or grade taught, and the other teachers casually converse with their

neighbors. Am I simply shy, a new face arriving amongst longstanding friends and coworkers, or

is there something about working with DaZ that marks me as ‘different’? I look around and notice Frau B. talking with tablemates near her, but quickly walks off as she notices Frau K. come into the lounge. Yes, DaZ is included, but somehow it still feels separate, a distinct entity in this space that differentiates teachers on status.

This salient differentiation amongst teachers, present but not completely deterministic, trickles down into the student population as well. While the teachers are assigned to a few classes and teach the same subject to each, the students are assigned to one classroom and stay with the same classmates year-round. Indeed, the teachers travel between classes to give lessons while the students remain in the same location for all of their subjects. Each grade is split into different classroom, so there may be an 8A, 8B and 8C, each with their own classroom composition that are also differentiated based on difficulty and intensity. Therefore, 8A is either more or less challenging than 8C, so as to account for the different educational pathways. This could, in theory, lead to conflict within grades and between classrooms, but the details of their assignments are not openly discussed amongst students, though the teachers do have friendly internal rivalries. Instead, this environment constitutes a sense of community amongst the students, as they spend all day together and sometimes the classes continue into the next year. Reflecting back on these differentiations, I realize that the cliques and friendships were not random: most were between students in the same classroom. Beyond mere organization, this differentiation serves to foster a communal environment within one classroom and separate from others. Where does DaZ fit into this web of interacting and conflicting communities?

Absorbed in my thoughts at my seat, I am suddenly brought back to the present as the first morning bell rings, announcing the start of the first period. No one moves to leave, and

neither do I as I resume conversing with Herr S. The students outside in the main hall shuffle about, meandering towards class with their friends, and I am reminded that this first

announcement is more directed at the students than their teachers. I have watched Frau B. berate another student for his tardiness mere minutes after arriving late herself – it is

acceptable for the teacher to arrive late, as class begins with her presence, but an unpunctual student gets reprimanded. Almost reluctantly, my co-workers slowly filter out of the teacher’s lounge to class and I follow Frau B. up the main staircase, past the computer room, and towards the DaZ classrooms. With the classroom doors locked, the students stand huddled into clusters in the hallway, conversing with friends in German even though a few share other first

languages. There is no rule about speaking German in school, but this norm helps foster a sense of community and inclusion, both core tenets of Karl-Eberhard’s mission. I walk over to the students and wish them ‘good morning’ while seeking to engage them in brief conversation, noting the presence of a dozen students that accompanied my bus ride to school this morning. We walk into class, and DaZ begins only five minutes after the morning bell.