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."
Monday, November 14, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
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?
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?
Friday, November 4, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, October 14, 2011
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!
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!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
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
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
Friday, October 7, 2011
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.
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.
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