A Def Education: Georgia Southern Alumnus Uses Hip Hop Music to Inspire Curiosity and Learning in Students

“Def,” for those unfamiliar, is an informal adjective, born out of ‘80s hip hop culture, meaning “cool” or “excellent.”

For André Benito Mountain (’98,’24), however, “def” is not simply cultural slang. It is the foundation of his pedagogy. From his days as a Georgia Southern University student, spinning records on the student-run radio station WVGS, to his new role as director of education at The Hip Hop Museum in New York City, Mountain has let the music guide him to new perspectives and new opportunities, both for himself and the students he leads.

Mountain’s education began in Augusta, Georgia, — home of James Brown, the most sampled artist in hip hop. He grew up on Michael Jackson and Prince, but it was when he acquired a tape of “King of Rock” by legendary rap group Run-D.M.C. that he transformed from fan to student.

“I think hip hop was another layer of my education,” said Mountain. “Hip hop was a curriculum for me beyond the school day.”

Far from a casual listener, Mountain began to deconstruct the tracks, tracing samples back to their roots. A snippet of a Malcolm X speech or the loop of an Isaac Hayes song became his syllabus.

“Hip hop was telling me what to read,” he said. “It was posing questions for me to think about. It was making me go back and listen to old music that I had not heard. And so not only was it expanding what I was reading, it was expanding my listening and what I was listening to.”

Mountain brought this curiosity to Georgia Southern as a history major. He sought out mentors like history Professor Cathy Skidmore-Hess, Ph.D., and former Director of the Center for Africana Studies Saba Jallow, Ph.D., who helped him fill the “blanks and voids” in his history.

By day, he studied West African traditions, and by night, he was “The Doctor” on WVGS, playing the music that sampled those very same traditions.

Inspired by his mother, who is also an educator, Mountain decided to bring his passions to the classroom. While working as a substitute teacher in Augusta, he says he realized students were starving for a connection to the curriculum.

“They wanted to see themselves in what they were learning,” he said. “That was the spark. I realized I could use my history background to actually change how these kids saw the world.”

And so “def education” was born. Mountain comes to class in a white lab coat, adorned with brightly colored graffiti — a flower with De La Soul emblazoned over it, a school bus that says “Def Ed,” and a message over the breast pocket: “The Doctor is In.” He’ll have students read lyrics from a song by Slick Rick or Jay-Z, explore the language and devices used to extract meaning. Then, they get to hear the song.

.“If you can show a student how the music they love is connected to the history of the world, you’ve won them over,” said Mountain. “You’ve given them a reason to be curious.”

Mountain recalled a fifth-grade student from Ethiopia who significantly struggled with reading. By integrating Afrobeat and the music the student loved into the lessons, Mountain saw the boy grow three grade levels in a single year.

“The secret was just pulling in his interests and making them central to what we were doing,” he said. “When a student feels seen, they feel capable.”

However, the path of “def educator” wasn’t always a smooth ascent. As Mountain’s reputation grew, so did his responsibilities. He moved into school leadership, serving as a principal and administrator. He found himself in boardrooms and district offices, managing budgets and policies. While he was successful, he felt a growing distance from the very thing that made him happy: making a difference in the lives of students.

“I drifted away from it and became a boss, but I never wanted to be a boss of grown people,” he said. “I wanted to work with the youth. That’s what keeps you young and keeps you connected. I’m 50, but they keep me young.”

After 10 years in leadership, Mountain returned to the classroom. It was a decision that prepared him for his dream job. By staying true to his identity as an educator, he caught the attention of The Hip Hop Museum in the Bronx through which he’s met many of his hip hop heroes. They weren’t just looking for an administrator: they were looking for a teacher who understood how music can spark creativity in students.

Today, Mountain’s work is expanding to a global scale. He recently released his third book, “Pawn Takes Rook: Urban Mosaic Pedagogy,” which examines educational leadership and power structures. In April, he will travel to the United Kingdom to lecture at the Institute of Contemporary Music Performance. His talks will focus on the “sonic fingerprint” of the diaspora and how hip hop serves as a global educational tool.

Shortly after, in May, he will transition into his new role as director of education at The Hip Hop Museum, leading youth entrepreneurship initiatives with Microsoft and developing partnerships with the Berklee College of Music and The New York Public Library.

Looking back, Mountain credits Georgia Southern for giving him the space to be his authentic self — to be “an intellectual and a hip hop head at the same time.” He sees now that all of it looped together, just like a perfect hip hop song.

“I feel like this is legacy work,” said Mountain. “I feel like what I did today ties right back to that picture of me at WVGS on the turntables, because I was sending messages out. I was playing Gil Scott-Heron. I was talking about, you know, Chubb Rock’s new record, where he’s giving a message about peace in the Middle East. I was teaching then. I was teaching then on the turntables.”

And he’s teaching now the same way.

— Doy Cave