Final Service Learning Reflection #3

Jonathan Kozol mentions many of the situations I have been observing at the Easley Center as problems in America’s school system in Savage Inequalities.  He mentions that magnet schools, for example, are great for the kids to get into them because they take challenging classes and are prepared for college and encouraged to achieve higher education, but also says that it creates an environment for those who don’t get into one in which learning isn’t just a low priority, it’s not even on the list.  Also, magnet schools are given new buildings, materials, and the newest technology whenever they request it, but regular schools could ask for a new set of books every ten years, or for a new building since theirs has no heating or air conditioning, and either their request will be grudgingly granted or deemed unnecessary.  In one particular instance, a new magnet school was built in the area where regular school kids lived and went to school, and they had just requested a new building because theirs was falling apart.  And every day they had to walk past the nice, new building of the privileged, “smarter” kids on the way to their broken down classrooms, being constantly reminded that they weren’t good enough.

His main point, however, is the idea of being spatially separated in the city, which definitely happens in Nashville.  Numerous times I’ve been told, “Are you aware that you’re just five minutes from one of the poorest, roughest neighborhoods with the worst school in all of Nashville?”  And my temptation is to say, “Yes, do you live there?”  Because people admitting that there are neighborhoods that are at an extreme disadvantage at no fault of their own, and using it as a subject for gossip, not a reason to help these people out, is disgusting to me.  And it’s disgusting to Kozol too.  The town he looked at is even separated by a bridge, far away from the nice city where all the “good,” wealthy citizens go.  People avoid crossing that bridge, for fear of entering this awful town that is run down and barely breathing; and yet, what I would want to say to them is, “You should stay there sometime.  Because people do live there—are you aware of that?”  How can we as Americans, as humans, allow others to live in such a state that we would never even go near?

“Don’t cross 8^th, because you know what’s on the other side of it.”

“What?  More people?”

Final Service Learning Reflection #2

The Easley Center has four bookshelves in the small tutoring room, mostly filled with "reference" books and novels that seemed unrelated to anything the students would ever learn about, having strangely specific and prestigious titles about the development of birds, or a novel involving a forbidden love.  It seemed that they were perhaps gathered from garage sales and super sales at old bookstores, especially given their rugged, worn quality.  There were three encyclopedia series and a couple of dictionaries as well, but I couldn’t even remember the last time I opened an encyclopedia or even thought about using one.  I found the reading materials they had interesting and quite representative of the amount of help these kids probably received in school.  Many times, they would have some questions based on a reading they did, but not the reading, and it would be because the teacher didn’t make copies for them, or they didn’t get to bring their books home because the school didn’t have enough.  So I would struggle through trying to help them answer the questions on their homework, but there were some I simply couldn’t help with because I didn’t have the materials to do so.  I can only imagine how much harder it would be for their parents, who maybe didn’t receive much higher education, to try to help them with their homework when they don’t even have all the information required to do so!

The small space used for the tutoring room is also representative of the level of importance placed on doing schoolwork, because there’s a room that’s at least twice as large that is used as a ping pong/gaming room just across the lobby from the tutoring room.  The small room is cramped, filled with three large tables and a metal teacher’s desk and as many metal folding chairs as they can fit.   There’s a TV on a cart that never gets used, two storage cabinets that have some craft supplies and other random items, four bookshelves decked with dozens of virtually useless novels, and a collection of junk that didn’t seem to fit in the tutoring room, much less at the center.  Obviously it’s expected that not many kids will do their homework, or the room would be larger; they also don’t expect the kids to stay long, because in just half an hour I can feel parts of my body going asleep from the awkward positions I have to seat myself in just to fit all of myself in the small space I’m given.  The repeated crossing lines on the windows, gray walls, and fluorescent lights make the room feel more like a prison than a space for learning, and I find myself wondering when I can get out of there, just waiting for most of the kids to be done with their homework and hoping for just one of them to ask me to play with them.  Pathetic, right?  Sometimes I feel like I’m back in grade school, just waiting for class to be over so I can go play.  No wonder the kids feel the same way.

Final Service Learning Reflection #1

My literacy experience is similar to the experience these kids are experiencing, because some of them attend schools with teachers that don’t like their jobs, don’t care if the students learn or not, and are only concerned with the extracurricular activities they’re involved in.  I’m from a small farming town in the southwest corner of Missouri, where FFA (Future Farmers of America) is the biggest club, and Home Economics is the most important class.  There was a select group of kids that cared about their education and wanted to go to college, and I was part of that group, but the vast majority of kids took off school or only went to school for half of the day so they could farm with their family.  The kids at Easley might not be farmers, and they might not know a farmer, but football, basketball, and stepping are easily the most important parts of school for both them and their teachers.  College isn’t just a dream, it’s not even a thought that passes through anyone’s mind—except the kids at magnet schools.  The division that existed at my school between farmers and future college students exists at Easley between “dumb school kids” and “magnet school kids,” and it’s incredibly sad.

The main differences I noticed are the presence of magnet schools; I didn’t even know what a magnet school was until I took this course, and when I first heard about it, I thought that it would’ve been a great opportunity for me in school.  Be solely around people that want to learn and go to college, and the kids who don’t desire that can go to a school that focuses more on vocational classes.  However, I very quickly realized that this division helps out the magnet school kids, but ruins any hopes or desires the “dumb school kids” might have had for going to college.  Their chances of going to college are ruined before they even enter high school; at least at my high school, if someone decided their junior or senior year to suddenly care about school and try to go to college, they had the classes and opportunities available to try.  If a “dumb school kid” were to decide to try to go to college, they would have no chance, because the school they go to is not for college bound kids.  This affects their desire to study, and it shows when I tutor them.  And as I’m tutoring them, I can’t help but think, “Who ruined your zest for life, the desire for learning you could’ve had?”  And when I try to tell them that they’re smart, that they can figure out the answer on their own, they look at me as if to say, “No, I can’t.  You know I can’t.  I don’t even know how to try.”  And the defeat in their faces breaks my heart, because they’re so young, and they have their whole lives ahead of them, and already they’ve decided… it’s over.

Digital Storyboard

Easley Escapades #7 and 8

On Thursday I spent most of my time trying to encourage the kids to do their work, do it themselves, and do it well.  Usually after encouraging them a couple of times they're fine and will do the work so they can go play.  But that day we were having a particularly hard time getting them to be motivated to do work.  And the sad thing is, I wasn't terribly motivated to do work either, so that made it even more difficult to motivate them.  But after a little over an hour, the girl I was tutoring finally finished her homework, and it appeared that there wasn't anything left for me to do in the tutoring room.  There were three tutors there already and three kids, and one of them was an older girl who said she didn't need help with her homework, so really there were three tutors for two kids.  I thought having a two-to-one tutor-to-student ratio would be a little over the top, so when the girl I'd been tutoring asked me to go play with her, I agreed.

We played four square after she convinced some other kids to join us, and I quickly learned that four square had changed a lot since I was a kid.  They had things separate from just bouncing the ball into each other's squares; now there was something called "cherry bomb", where you had to jump out of the playing square.  If you were the last person to jump out, you were out of the game and the next person in line joined in.  Also, if the "king" or "queen" said "bus stop" and put their foot in a certain place on any line in the playing square, everyone else had to run up and put their foot in the same spot.  Again, if you were the last person to get your foot right next to the "king" or "queen's," you were out.  The "king" or "queen" could yell any of these things at any point when the ball was not in play, and they did so quite frequently.  Sometimes multiple times in a row, alternating between "cherry bombs" and "bus stops."  Personally, I found the extra running around completely exhausting.  However, the kids seemed exhilarated and energized by it, and often wound up rolling on the floor laughing (literally) either because of someone falling, someone being last and getting upset about it, or from the sheer enjoyment of playing the game.  And soon, I felt young again.  Someone would tell me I was out, and I would quickly give my rebuttal of why I wasn't out.  Whenever I caught myself doing this I would quickly straighten up, cease arguing, and state that I was out and step back in line, reminding myself that I was an adult now, and this was just a silly little game that didn't really matter.  Furthermore, I had real-life, adult things to worry about, and couldn't afford to waste my energies on child's play.

Oh how quickly the good die young.

Easley Escapade #6

At the Easley Center on Thursday I mostly spent my time tutoring and getting to know the kids I was tutoring.  There was one little boy in particular who was six years old, just in the first grade, and he asked me for help with his homework fifteen minutes before my shift was up.  I agreed to help him because he was working on learning to write/spell out basic words, so I figured it wouldn't take terribly long.  As we worked through the assignment, he would point to the picture, say what it was rather enthusiastically (apple!), then start to spell it.  After each letter he looked up at me for approval and once I nodded or said, "Yes, that's right," he would beam with pride and carefully draw the letter in the oversized blank (with dashes in the middle to distinguish upper case from lower case, of course).  Sometimes he would look up and say questioningly, "t?" (or whatever letter it was), searching my face for an answer with his large brown eyes.  I would either commend him or make the sound of the letter it was supposed to be ("puh, puh, puh, puh, puh"), and then he would say, a little more confidently, "p?!" and I would reply with a yes or a no, providing him with more clues if necessary.

He was an adorable little boy, but all I could think the whole time was that he was at the beginning of his life, and there was no telling where it would go.  Really, there never is any way to know how anyone's life will go.  And for a moment, his innocent joy seemed indescribably sad to me, because I knew that someday someone would try to take that away from him, and they might be successful, and he would know that for the rest of his life he would have to watch out for himself, perhaps by himself.

But each time he smiled at me I couldn't help but think that his joy was a beautiful gift to all those around him, and that for a little while, his zest for learning for the pure sake of knowing would inspire, encourage, and bring joy to everyone he meets.  So perhaps that childlike innocence; that love for life, every moment of it; becoming excited over the smallest of things, is really a blessing meant for us adults in the world.  Maybe, instead of feeling the need to educate the child and bring them back to "reality," we should take the opportunity to remember what that felt like and enjoy that sweet innocence that lasts for that short period of time.  The adults may be here to help the children grow up, but the children are here to remind the grown ups what life was like in the beginning, what it was meant to be, and that sometimes you can beam with joy over learning something simple, like how to write the word "apple."

Digital Short

Part of the ethnographic study we're doing is creating a digital short that addresses one aspect of our projects.  For mine, I'm using the headline "they're just like us" to develop the concept that even homeless people are "normal" people too, or at least "were" at one time.  My plan is to use a combination of audio from the interviews I had with homeless people and Belmont students, some instrumental background music, video from the sites where I interviewed the homeless people, and some images of homelessness/homeless communities available from Google Images.  I'm debating using a screen shot from the online homeless forum (mentioned in a previous post) of a question I posted and the responses I received.  I will need to determine if it really fits with what I'm trying to convey via this short.

Specifically, I'm going to use the interview clips that include questions pertaining to how homeless people were raised vs. how Belmont students watched their parents treat homeless people (when they were raised).  The first clip I'll play, probably with no visuals or the background music (though if I do visuals, it will be of a kid who looks spoiled), is Saw (a homeless person I interviewed) saying that he was a spoiled kid growing up, in order to relate him to the Belmont students.  Then I'll start the music/video of homeless people and continue the interview clips.

The purpose behind showing the sites where I interviewed the homeless people is to show a number of things:  1) these sites are less than five minutes away from Belmont, 2) they are areas most Belmont students drive past several times a week, 3) they're very "normal" areas with plenty of "normal" people around (therefore, why can't the homeless people also be considered "normal?"), and 4) to show the number of people that drive past without helping those begging.

I hope that this digital short will take away the veil that seems to exist over "normal" people's eyes, and once existed over mine, to help them to be able to see that homeless people are people too.  They aren't rodents, pests, or people who are intruding on our "normal" lives.  They're people, with a past, a life, and hope for the future (sometimes).  They deserve to live, and live well, too.

Easley Escapade #5

By the time I arrived at 4:00 pm to tutor at Easley, almost all the kids were either playing in the sunlight or inside.  One of the other tutors was having to focus solely on a student to help them with their homework, so I sat down between a couple of students to be available in case they needed me.  They had occasional questions concerning their homework, but mostly I got to talk with and get to know them.

I noticed the books on the bookshelf, and how there were three different encyclopedia series and a couple of dictionaries, but all the other "reference" books and novels seemed unrelated to anything the students would ever learn about, having strangely specific and prestigious titles about the development of birds, or a novel involving a forbidden love.  It seemed that they were perhaps gathered from garage sales and super sales at old book stores, especially given their rugged, worn quality.  I thought about the disadvantage these kids, and this tutoring center, were at by not having all the resources that would help them most in school, and wondered if any of the books were ever used or had even been opened.

I realized that one of the girls was asking me a question, so I pulled myself from my thoughts and turned my attention to her.  She asked a question, something involving grammar and correcting improper sentences, and was wondering if the word they'd used in the sentence was correct.  It's strange how things line up sometimes.  I replied that the way I liked to find out was by using the dictionary, so I pulled one from the shelf and turned to the "p's."  I handed it to her and told her to look up the word on the page and see if the definition fits the sentence.  She found it, read the definition aloud, then read the sentence and inserted the definition where the word was.  "No," she said, almost immediately, "that word doesn't work."  "Ok," I said, "what word does fit?"  She replied with the proper vocabulary word, and I told that she did a good job and that it's good to use a dictionary anytime you're unsure if a word fits in a sentence.  She thanked me, then continued on with her homework.  Hopefully the dictionary will be opened again.

Later she talked about the rate of the schools, and told me that she was at the second best school in Nashville.  She's in the ninth grade.  A boy in the room looked embarrassed when she mentioned the line up, and another boy explained that he was at the "dumb school."  I told him no school was a dumb school because any school is good for learning, and he replied with a half-hearted "sorry" and a snicker. The girl seemed proud of herself for getting into the second best school, but had already decided that there were some colleges she couldn't go to because she wasn't smart enough to get in.  Magnet schools seem like a good idea, with the purpose that the kids who are farther along in school or want to challenge themselves can without having to go to private school, but I realized throughout the interaction the kids had that there were some negatives.  Being at the second smartest school encouraged her to work hard and made school a serious priority for her, but the kid who was at the school on the lowest rung seemed to have decided that school was unimportant at a very early age (he was in the sixth grade) and that he didn't need to try because he would never go to a four-year college.  So are we supporting and encouraging the development of the kids who really want to excel at school, or are we telling kids, as early as the sixth grade, that they don't need to try because they aren't good enough?

Easley Escapades #3 & 4

From the moment I walked into the after school center yesterday, the kids were more rowdy and antsy than I remembered from my previous visit.  I realized pretty quickly that with all the rain we had had that day, the kids probably didn't get to go outside a lot or at all, and if they did they probably couldn't play on all the equipment.  Oh dear.  This was going to be a long day.

It reminded me of my years in grade school, and all the recesses I had, and how they would make rules about where you could or couldn't play when it rains so that you don't get mud all over yourself-- not that you really care, you just love the feeling of freedom for that brief thirty minutes.  When I'm around kids in school, especially grade school, I immediately begin to have flashbacks about my time in grade school.  My experience was different in some ways, but similar in others, as the kids at the center.  But mostly, all I can think is that they're just kids, and I remember how simple life was back then (not that I thought it was simple, I had serious issues back then, like birthday parties and what presents I wanted for Christmas).  And then I think back to all the teachers and "older kids" that had an impact on my life, and it scares me because I think, "That's me.  Right now.  Everything I do, everything I say, these kids are paying attention to.  And ultimately, they may remember quite well the college student from Belmont that used to come and help them with their homework; I know I remember a lot of people from my younger years who probably didn't realize the significant impact they had on my life, even just a memory."  So for a brief second, I get afraid.  I worry.  I watch my actions more than usual.  And then, I start interacting with the kids, and I am reminded that no matter what I say or do, even if they remember, these kids are young and innocent, with fresh minds and ideas.  They are impressionable, but so am I.  I'll remember my experience with them just as much as they will theirs with me, and that's the beauty of getting involved in others' lives:  what goes around comes around.  These kids are making an impact on me.

So what did I learn today?  Grade school homework is hard, and I don't think I use half of what they're teaching these kids in math and english.  I didn't know what an appository was, and I was also pretty positive that the kids didn't need to in order to succeed in life or even go to college.  But it's all about assignments and grades, so I did my best to look back at their lessons, be vulnerable enough to ask them questions (disguising it as assessing their knowledge of the subject), and try to figure it out with them.  There were a couple of girls, however, who didn't want to read their assignment.  They wanted me to tell them the answers to the questions.  What they didn't realize, though, is that I hadn't read the assignment either, so I didn't even know the answers.  But that was beyond the point; I had to try to teach them a lesson in the importance of reading for class (don't I know that as a college student).  So they batted their little eyes and tried to charm me into doing their homework for them, but I stood my ground.  Next they threw tantrums; I threatened time out (these girls were far too old for time out).  Eventually, though, I wore them down, and grudgingly they sat down, read the assignment, then filled out the answers.  They gave me their homework to check, and their answers were excellent.  I told them so, but they didn't seem pleased at all.  They were still frustrated with me.  See, they're smart girls; that's not the problem.  I think the problem is the two methods they tried with me worked one time with someone, and they remembered and held onto that with the idea that it would work again.

Wow, what an impact someone had on their life.  These kids really are impressionable and, even if subconsciously, they will remember everything about my visit:  my authority, my demeanor, my helpfulness, and my appearance.  Maybe she'll remember the girl who made her read her assignment, and that same girl told her she was smart and had excellent answers because she did her homework properly.  Maybe.  But most importantly, the words I say to them and my actions will be seared in their minds forever.  What an awesome opportunity.  The question for me, though, is:  can I handle this?  Twenty kids for an hour or two a few days?  Whether I can or not, I have to.  So take a deep breath, and go in there.  Welcome to adulthood.

Rockin' the Boat

There's a forum online with a variety of ongoing discussions about issues concerning homelessness:

http://www.homelessforums.org/

After looking at only a couple of discussions, I very quickly realized that in many ways, homelessness is a "hot topic."  In this particular forum, there's a mixture of homeless people, formerly homeless people, and people who have never been homeless at all.  In one particular discussion, a rich man from Florida was moaning about his meaningless, sad life, and was contemplating becoming homeless because he thought that they seemed happier, more fulfilled, and enjoyed the things in life he wanted to enjoy, out from under the oppression of the work force and money.  At first there was no reply but multiple views, until eventually a couple of girls began to explain to him that he needed to look into the reality of being homeless, not just his vision of being homeless.  A couple of homeless people that I had noticed commented on a lot of discussions explained to him that they would love to have money in the bank and the security of a job, a home, and healthcare.  Eventually the discussion calmed down and other people started giving suggestions for those with money.

The discussions I looked at all got extremely heated in just a few posts, and this seemed to be a trend in the discussions.  Homelessness is clearly an important topic to a large variety of people, which indicates that the questions I ask on the forum will bring me plenty of interesting replies from people of different economic classes.  Just don't rock the boat!

Glossary

Here's a list of terms commonly used in the homeless/The Contributor community:

customer- anyone driving, walking, or riding past a "vendor" on the street
family- a group of homeless people that work together to survive/live together; not necessarily related
hard sell- selling The Contributor by excessive solicitation, threatening, or pressuring "customers"
the Mission- a place for homeless people to stay overnight
panhandling- begging for money on the street
Paps- the oldest man in a "family"
street newspaper- a paper that only discusses issues concerning homelessness/poverty and is sold by homeless or formerly homeless individuals on the street
Tent City- a community of homeless people that live under a bridge in shacks or self-made tents
vendor- an employee who sells The Contributor and is homeless or formerly homeless

Connectedness

How am I connected to a bunch of homeless people, a hodge-podge of individuals thrown together in Nashville with a common reason that's different than mine?

At first, I had no idea.  But then, I started thinking about their reasons for coming:  to make it "big" in the music industry, to travel back home, to live their dream (whatever it may be).  Then I started thinking about my reasons for coming:  to escape a place I despised in hopes of finding a new home to call my own, to become the person I want to be, to live my big dream of being a dance therapist in a large city.

In some ways, the specifics of our reasons for coming to or staying in Nashville are different, but the purpose is the same:  we all just want what we want.  We want to be happy, have the career we desire most, make it "big" in our chosen field, and establish ourselves in a place, sometimes a new place, that we fit into and can call home.

So what makes them so different from me?  That question scares me, because the only thing that separates us is that they're farther along the road than I am.  What if I have bad luck in life, like they did?  What if my dreams don't come true?  What if I fail?  Many of the homeless in Nashville just had some bad luck happen in their life, whether it was that their dreams didn't come true, they couldn't get a job like they thought they would, or something drastic happened in their life to cause everything to come tumbling down.  Any of those things could very realistically happen to me.  But what would my reaction be?  The reaction of my homeless friends was to turn to alcohol and drugs to cope with the failure they'd become, or just keep trying for their dreams, extremely persistent, even with their guitars worn beyond good use.  Can I reasonably say that I wouldn't do those things?  That if my world, my "reasonable" dreams came crashing down, I would just accept it and keep on living life as if it hadn't affected me?  I can't say that I would.  I wish I could, but in many ways that also helps me connect with these people who are so different than me.  So really, we are all connected; in some ways I do understand them, the only difference is that my fears are their realities.

Maybe these people aren't so different from me.

Keep an Eye on the Customers

Dialogue:

Saw:  I’ll do this, but, uh… I got a lotta customers, you know, so, um… I gotta keep an eye on that.

Me:  Yes, no, of course, that’s completely understandable.  This’ll be really quick.

Saw:  Ok, yeah… that’s all right.

Me:  Where did you grow up?

Saw:  Um, Nashville, Tennessee.

Me:  Oh?  Nashville?

Saw:  Yeah.

Me: What was your home life like as a kid?

Saw:  Uh… very, uh… I was a spoiled person.  Spoiled, yeah, spoiled.

Me:  What did you want to be when you grew up when you were a kid?

Saw:  Football player.

Me:  Football player?

Saw:  Yeah.

Me:  That’s cool.  Were you on any sports teams?

Saw:  Uh, yes, I played for Bellevue, when I was growin’ up, I played, uh, uh… Junior Pro League when I was growin’ up.

Me:  What was that second one?

Saw:  Junior Pro.  Junior Pro League.  And, uh… I guess that’s about all.

Me:  So, um, I guess what brought you to Nashville is just that you’ve always lived here?

Saw:  Always lived here.

Me:  What is a typical day like for you?

Saw:  Um… I’d say normal.

Me:  Yeah.  What do you do from morning to night?  Just a real quick run through.

Saw:  Tryin’ to basically work, yeah work.

Me:  Yeah?

Saw:  Uh-huh.  Uh, I’m goin’ to go over to that lady.

Saw:  You know, I said I had to keep an eye on my customers.

Me:  Yeah, I know, it’s no problem.  Thanks for doing this.

Me:  Do you have somewhere to live right now?

Saw:  Uh, no, I’m… I’m homeless.  Sometimes I stay at the mission.

Me:  Do you have a job, other than selling The Contributor?

Saw:  No, no… I don’t.

Me:  So… if you don’t mind me asking, why do you think that is?  Like, what caused it?

Saw:  No, I don’t mind, um… I mean, I grew up payin’ bills since I was, like, fifteen, so…

Me:  So you think that’s what caused it?  Having to start paying bills so young?

Saw:  Yeah.

Me:  How did you get involved in The Contributor?

Saw:  They just offered me a job, ya know.

Me:  Oh, ok… um… do you like working for The Contributor?  You don’t have to worry, I’m not, like, reporting to anyone or anything.  It’s just a question, part of the interview

Saw:  Uh, yes… I mean, yeah, it’s a job.  And I need a job.  But they’re all right.

Me:  Cool.

Saw:  Yeah, I mean, it’s better than goin’ out and getting in trouble, ya know, and hurting people.  Would you rather me be doing that?

Me:  Oh, no, of course not, no… I was just asking, you know, ‘cause it seems like a tough job, standing out here all day, so I was just wondering.

Saw:  Yeah, it is, but it’s a job, and every job’s got its problems, you know?

Me:  Yeah… oh don’t I…

Saw:  Yeah.

Me:  So tell me more about The Contributor.  Is there anything more you’d like to tell me?  Like, just, anything about The Contributor?

Saw:  Nah, not… not really.  It just really gives me something to do, ya know, rather than… like, when I was thirty, I was doin’ drugs and alcohol, and I'm forty-two now, so, ya know, it’s better than doin’ that.  I’ve had some bad luck.

Me:  Oh? Yeah? Well… I’m sorry about that, um… and that probably doesn’t help anything, the whole situation, does it?  Um… would you mind elaborating on that a little bit?  I’m not trying to pry, I just—

Saw:  Uh, you know, I got a lot of customers right now, so I’m going to have to let you go, all right?

Me:  Oh, ok, well, um, thank you for your time!

Saw:  Yeah, it’s no problem.  I just, uh, I gotta get back to my customers.  See ya.

Analysis:

The first thing I drew from this was said before the interview technically even started, and I jotted it down very quickly once he said it:  the idea of customers.  Maybe it's my narrow-mindedness, or maybe I'm a demeaning person, but I had never thought of the cars driving past vendors of The Contributor as being customers.  In my mind, vendors were still homeless people, who needed money or some kind of a job, and this was the most honest way they could go about that.  But I'd never really thought of it as a business before, or that the vendors would think of all the cars driving past them on a daily basis as customers.  But honestly, if I were doing that job, I would need some way to cope with standing there as nearly every car drove past, the people inside not even looking at me, and I guess the best way to do that would be to think of it as any other job, especially like those in retail, and not take it personally but just think that they didn't want to buy my product, and that's fine.  Almost like I was selling it at a shopping mall or something.  It would be far less demeaning and discouraging to think of it that way instead of, "Well, they just don't want to buy my paper.  Something's wrong with how I'm selling it, " or allow the cynic inside me to say, "No one cares that I'm homeless, foodless, jobless (in a way).  This world is a terrible place full of selfish people who only want for themselves and don't think of the needs of others." Now that'll put a smile on any working face.

I also found it interesting that he thought that he was a spoiled kid.  I'm not going to lie, I was definitely expecting him to say that he had some awful, dramatic home life.  But I guess it kind of fits that he was overly spoiled and thought too much of himself, so when his parents couldn't pay his way anymore or bad luck came his way (which he said it did), then he wouldn't be as able to take care of himself.  However, he did mention that he started paying bills when he was fifteen, so maybe my perception of a spoiled kid is different than his.  Maybe based on where he grew up, he was a spoiled kid, but to me, if he's paying his own bills, he can't possibly be spoiled, because his parents aren't paying for everything for him.  I would've loved to delve into that more, but of course, he didn't seem like he was interested in talking about it, or much of anything at all, and I didn't want to ruin the contact I'd made.

But he's trying to do better for himself, which is a commonality that I hear among vendors of The Contributor and from people begging for money on the street:  they all want to do better for themselves, get a "real" job, be able to afford a place to live-- any place-- and provide for themselves.  They typically see pretty accurately what it is that led them to where they are now, and it's usually bad luck, some kind of failure in a dream profession where success is based on luck and networking, and/or drugs or alcohol.  And I'm encouraged by that, because it makes me believe that maybe I can do better for myself too, despite what's held me back, torn me down, or ripped me apart.  That no matter what, I can hope, dream, and maybe even try to help myself, and someone will be there to help me along.  Isn't that what living in a community is all about anyway?

The Wisdom of Maya Angelou

I was raised in a small town full of white farmers, where the biggest club in high school was Future Farmers of America (FFA).  Therefore, there are a lot of writers and historically famous people that I have never heard of, but most students spent a lot of time learning about.  Maya Angelou is one of those.  After hearing students gush over her and get excited about her arrival on campus, I was convinced that this woman must be amazing to cause all this commotion.  And she was.  Dr. Angelou made you feel like you were sitting in her living room, listening to her tell stories from her life, sing songs of hope, talk brightly of the future, and encourage you about the life path you had chosen.  She was purely inspirational, and gave everyone in the room not only a sense of awe and encouragement, but also a profound self worth.  Despite her many struggles in life, she has developed into a virtuous woman full of grace and beauty who takes joy in helping those around her.  By the end of her talk, I felt that I knew her, that perhaps she was even my grandmother and confidante.  I was extremely impressed by her, and hope that I get the opportunity to hear her speak again some day.

Easley Escapades #1 & 2

3:51 PM

As soon as I entered Edgehill I noticed the game room on the left, filled with a single ping pong table and a few games.  In the open area just beyond it there were two empty tables with metal chairs surrounding them, and then through the next door there were three more tables surrounded by more metal chairs and an office desk with what seemed to be the only comfortable chair in the building.  One woman, whom I later had some wonderful conversation with, inquired why I was there.  As soon as I mentioned that I was with Belmont, she replied, "Oh, yes, baby!  You need to sign in?  I got it right here for ya."  I love the South.  I waited for several minutes, sitting in one of the chairs in the open area, for the children to arrive.  When they finally did arrive they came like a storm, running and yelling, trying to get to their most desired room as quickly as possible.  I got up from my chair and walked into the homework room-- the one with the desk-- and settled down at a table with a couple of little girls.  I asked their names, grades, and ages, then explained who I was and that I was there to help them with their homework.  They seemed a little unsure of me at first, but after the first little girl asked me a homework question and I helped her figure out the answer, they both started to relax.

4:06 PM

With all the kids done with their homework, the woman who had provided me with the sign-in sheet began asking all of the children, especially the ones that hadn't even come near the room, if they were sure they didn't have any homework.  They all replied, "No," and with that she explained to me that normally their homework wouldn't get done so quickly, but some days there just wasn't much to do.

4:15 PM

About half of the kids and I lined up to go outside to play on the jungle gym, walk the track, and just enjoy the beautiful afternoon.  Many of them looked at me, probably wondering who the older outsider was, but once they saw the other children play with me they loosened up and started tugging on my arm to carry them on my back, play tag, and watch them climb the monkey bars.  After just half an hour of playing with them I was exhausted, and they started to play with each other more, so I sat down next to the same woman I had been spending the majority of my time with there and got to know her a little bit.  We talked about school, jobs, childhood development, life decisions, and just about anything else that came to our minds.  There was a small argument amongst the children, but she quickly solved it by merely asking them, "What are the rules here?" until they responded with the correct answer, which they all knew but were avoiding providing because they knew they had disobeyed it-- you could see it all over their faces.

5:00 PM

It was time for me to leave, so I got up to go inside and sign out, when the two little girls I had tutored ran over and asked if I was leaving.  Once I said that I was, they asked when I was going to come again. I told them probably not until November, but I had classmates that were coming to help them every day. Extremely disappointed, they replied with a solemn, "Oh," and returned to their playmates.  I called out to all the kids that I would see them in a few weeks, and they all waved and screamed goodbye at me as loud as they could, even the two little girls.  It was an excellent two hours spent.

Artifacts of a Broken Culture Renewed

A guitar is an important artifact for the homeless culture of Nashville, Tennessee because many of the homeless here are failed musicians who travelled to the “city of music” to become famous in the music industry.  Other homeless people are troubadours, merely passing through town on their way to another city or searching for a way back home.  Therefore, the guitar is a symbol of the struggles of the homeless population, their attempt at triumph, and their ultimate joy and suffering.

The Contributor is a respected newspaper in the homeless population of Nashville, Tennessee.  The vendors sell it on street corners; each person has an official nametag, bag to hold the newspapers in, and money pouch to collect their earnings in.  You may be surprised to find that all of the vendors are either homeless or formerly homeless people; they are all working to bring themselves out of poverty by having a job—selling The Contributor.  This makes The Contributor a valuable artifact of the homeless culture of Nashville to study so that their strivings are understood.  It is also important to note that The Contributor is a newspaper written entirely about the homeless culture in Nashville, making it all the more important to the homeless and thus those studying the homeless.

Practically Practicing

There were a series of things that I noticed in the hallway linking the practice rooms in the basement of Massey Performing Arts Center:  everyone had a water bottle, a surprisingly low number of students actually had their instrument with them, and no one seemed to want to make eye contact with anyone else.  There are a few conclusions about music students that I have drawn by linking these seemingly separated qualities most seem to possess.

1)  They all have water bottles, because they cannot get dehydrated.  Not from getting a fierce workout, no; rather, from excessive use of the lips and tongue for extended periods of time.  Sole use of the mouth can cause the musician to be unable to practice up to their full potential if they do not keep a sufficient amount of water on hand at all times-- there's no telling when an impromptu jam or singing session may happen on Belmont's campus, and they must be prepared.

2)  The students generally do not have instruments with them because they are predominantly singers and pianists; or, they store their instruments somewhere on the premises.  Through observing the music demographic on Belmont's campus, I have determined that there are a wide variety of instruments played by the music students, some of which are not commonly known; therefore, they must have some means of storing their instruments on the premises, since they cannot be nearly all singers and pianists.

3)  The lack of desire (or ability) to make eye contact could be for only one reason:  paranoia.  This paranoia stems from a number of stressful situations the student lives in, including but not limited to, having their livelihood (instrument) stored separate from where they spend the majority of their time, competition among students, and extensive rehearsals with no credit obtained for the time spent.

In short, through this study I have concluded that music students must suffer from dry mouth due to the constant stress and paranoia caused by being a music student, especially concerning the storage of their most prized possession, their instrument, and excessive rehearsals (occasionally without warning) in which large amounts of water are required.  By learning these facts of this culture that dominates the Belmont campus, one can understand the reasons why Belmont students are an extreme variation compared to the average college student, and the acceptable way in which to behave when entering this musical culture.

Music Notes

 

I was surprised that not very many students passing through had instruments in their arms; I suppose that many of them were vocalists, or had some way to store their instruments in the building.  I was interested in the fact that everyone had a water bottle (with a considerable amount of water in it); it seems obvious that everyone in the building would need a water bottle to stay hydrated and keep their mouths from getting dry, yet it was a common theme-- maybe the only common theme-- with all the students.  Nothing in particular disturbed me, except for the various rehearsals going on in different rooms, which made the music sound more like instruments warming up (not in time with each other) right before a rehearsal than a well-practiced piece.

What to Study, What to Study?

I have been working with the homeless by the Interstate 65 and Wedgewood intersection, befriending and feeding them, for the past two years.  I have noticed a strong community and culture there, especially considering that several people who work for The Contributer distribute the newspaper at the on and off ramps.  In all of my encounters with a variety of homeless people, there seems to be one common theme:  having a meal, meeting a new friend, having someone who cares for them, and receiving simple gifts consisting of the necessities of life, are blessings to them; they are beautiful.  So this got me thinking, what is beautiful?  Not as in who is beautiful or what is beauty, but what is it that makes an object, a food, a piece of clothing, beautiful?  Is it its usefulness, its practicality, the number of functions it has, the intention of the person providing it, or is it the person receiving the gift who, based on their life experiences and current living situation, determines what is beautiful?

The Young vs. the Old

In this skit, Louis C.K. addresses the "ungrateful generation" from the standpoint of an old timer who did not have the technology capabilities in his day that we currently possess.  He discusses the fact that he had to use a rotary phone "back in his day," yet the modern teenager will become frustrated when their phone does not function quickly enough for them.  This is an age-old argument that has been addressed for decades, yet his comical rendition is still unique to the point of instigating conversation.  The young are characterized as being spoiled, impatient, and privileged (with no recognition of it), whereas the old are wise, calm, and grateful for the current technology.  The evident collision between the generations provides a humorous and truthful skit that unites the two.

I Never

Rule #1:  Never use personal pronouns.
This is the first "rule of writing" taught in high school.  It is reasonable because part of becoming a more mature, advanced writer is being able to remove oneself from a piece and remaining as objective as possible.  However, being able to use personal pronouns can also allow a writer's creativity to drive the composition, rather than a set list of do's and don'ts.  Otherwise, the piece can lack the writer's personality and seem emotionless.

Rule #2:  Never say "I think" or "I believe."
The reasoning for this rule, as explained by teachers, is that the reader knows that what is being written is the writer's ideas, thoughts, beliefs, etc., because they are the one writing it.  Usually this rule should be followed, because the use of "I think" or "I believe" can get excessive, however, sometimes these phrases can be used to emphasize a point or compare beliefs between two people, organizations, etc.

Rule #3:  Never stray from the standard outline:  introduction, three body paragraphs, and conclusion.
This rule is understandable for middle school students who are trying to learn to write, but by high school it should be completely abolished, because it extinguishes all possible creativity.  It turns writing into a stagnant, formula process, rather than an art form.  Writing is meant to be used to express the self, and at times provide communication, and if it is reduced to a set standard there can be no progression and the individuality of the writer is lost in the formula.