Art, New School

"But you definitely won't have students humping each other in class, that's for sure"

This was the last phrase in a long list of "pros" we brainstormed that ultimately outweighed the "cons" in a dilemma I didn't expect to have this summer: I have decided to leave my current position to take a job at another school.

A little backstory: When we were living in Pittsburgh and finishing our teacher training, we hadn't really considered looking outside the area for jobs, even though the job situation was bleak in southwestern PA. It was on a whim that K (my wife) found a media specialist position open at CH, a renowned and prestigious public high school in the NC college town where she went to undergrad, and a short distance from her home town. Too good to pass up, yes? That's what her interviewing committee thought as well, when they picked her from over 100 applicants.

I got my job at HHS and you only need to skim a few previous posts to see how that went. But to recap: a troubled, resegregated school with strong neighborhood pride and also some strong neighborhood problems. In short, an academic disaster. Look at April/May posts to see the kinds of behavior problems that were customary.

In spite of this environment I was relatively successful in my short tenure. I made some worthwhile connections with students and even had a few breakthroughs along the way. I worked closely with the other performing arts teachers on the musical productions, and I helped to establish a visual art course in the International Baccalaureate program. Plus, it was a thrill to see our National Art Honors Society kids plan and enact an after-school art club for the nearby elementary school.

All of these things outweighed the kid who dropped his pants in class or the girl who cussed me out. Because, in part, I knew that my problems were not as severe as other teachers who were unable or unwilling to make a personal connection with the students. Also, it is often rare that good things outweigh the bad (waiters always remember the 1 bad table, not the 10 good ones), so I knew that these things must have really been true assets. That's why it was not hard to decide to stay at least one more year, even after being emotionally beaten down and exhausted at the end of the first. The next year still looked promising.

So why did I take a job at a different school?

It wasn't because HHS was a difficult school, or because I was unhappy in my placement. Quite the contrary, I told everyone at the end of the year that I had no intention to leave (In fact, teachers and students are reluctant to get to know new teachers because of the high turnover rate). In the back of my mind, however, there were two area schools that could tempt me away from HHS: The district's School for the Arts, and CH.

As it happened, the 30-year veteran art teacher at CH retired without warning this summer. Art teacher jobs are precious and rare commodities, despite the nation-wide teacher shortage, and a job at an academic school with a strong art tradition was impossible to ignore.

So what are the pros and cons, anyway?

Well, the pros are many. It is a school with a strong arts tradition. It has high student participation in visual arts, with students that go on to major in studio art or art history. It is in the process of becoming an arts academy, with which I will be involved (sure to be the subject of future posts). I will be teaching an AP Art History course. And, yes, behavior issues are very different at a school in an academic community. Oh, right, and my wife works there, too! (Indeed a plus - she student taught at my first school)

Cons include a faculty in a state of flux and the fact that this is an affluent community in which students will be successful regardless of who the art teacher is.

Do the CH pros outweigh the HHS pros? It is too soon to say. I hope so. I believe I am making the right decision, because I believe CH is a better fit for me. I did not choose this school because it is where my wife teaches, or because it will be easier (whatever that means) to teach there. I am sure I will find a way to make it hard.

I chose this school because it will challenge, and hopefully reward, everything I love about teaching.

I can say that I leave HHS with great affection, and with the feeling of unfinished business. I am truly disappointed that I did not fulfill my promise to students that I would stay for more than one year. They have become so accustomed to teachers coming and going that new teachers are often greeted with "Hi, I'm ___, are you gonna be here next year?"

I always answered that question "yes".

As it turns out, I am just another teacher who lied to them, who let them down. Art students who will be seniors this year will have had a different art teacher all four years. I am ashamed of this, and am especially sorry to the advanced and IB students with whom I had such a close relationship. But these students will be able to take care of themselves. I feel if I have betrayed anyone it is the student who maybe didn't care about school until my class. To that student, I want to say I'm truly sorry. I am sure they will have another, perhaps better, art teacher but I am sorry that I wasn't true to my word. Ultimately it is a professional decision, and one that I hope is properly reasoned.

My arts partners at HHS will be missed, as will the supportive principal. But I will most miss the great friends and mentors (why is this plural? there is only one Mary Beth) that made the experience so rich. I don't like the air of finality to this post, because I fully intend to raise a happy hour glass with them as often as possible this fall.

Now, who will I root for in HHS homecoming game against CH??

(by the way, CH's colors are black and gold: coincidence?)

Where is New Art School?, Revisited

Oops!

I realized, thanks to an email suggesting so, that the statement "big changes" next to a postcard from San Francisco would lead one to believe that New Art School is relocating to the Bay area. Not so. Just vacationed there.

More later...

Where is New Art School?

Why is the last post dated "May"? Why is there nothing posted in June or July? Perhaps it seems to you, dear occasional reader, that New Art School has gone on some sort of summer vacation. It is true. It has.

However, big changes are afoot for New Art School as the new year winds up. Once the dust settles and next of kin is notified, it will be posted about in detail. Please come back.

Pacman going to see Jesus

"It's pacman. And he's going to see Jesus."

For our project on surrealism, one student is painting exactly that. It's pacman. Going to see Jesus. The big yellow guy is on one side, gobbling up ice cream cones on his way across the page to a cross.

"See? It's pacman going to see Jesus!" he keeps telling me.

I helped him draw the pacman ghosts as angels with wings and a halo. He graciously let me keep it as a sample for future classes. It is the funniest thing I have ever seen.

"It's pacman. Going to see Jesus!"

Also, as part of the project, students read some surrealist literature and composed a surreal story to accompany their painting. Below, the legend of pacman going to see Jesus. A new religion, anyone? (Is it any less plausible, or relevant to modern times, than the Mormon bible?)

My First Bruise

Just below the knuckle of my left-hand forefinger there is a dime-sized bruise growing steadily darker. It is the result of my feeble attempt to break up two students who were aggressively play(?)-fighting by slamming each other into the wall. I don't know how it happened, this bruise. I only remember strained faces and grunts, a laughing audience, and one of them stopping the fight because they lost their balance.

"Damn, I tripped over Mr. W's big-ass feet", he breathlessly reassured onlookers.

Interesting Sketchbook Entries, part 4

ASSIGNMENT: Read the quote below and respond in two short paragraphs. First, what does he mean - how does a "painter" become an "artist"? Second, according to him, are you an "elephant" or an "artist"?

Painting is one thing but art is another. You can teach an elephant to paint, but you can't teach it to be an artist. (Warren Criswell)

DE, grade 10: "You can paint but I think it would be hard 2 teach a elephant 2 paint not less he little. aint no big elephant going 2 listen 2 u not less u train them when they are baby's"

19 Days til Summer

A Teacher Detached

Lowered standards? New perspectives? A war veteran's tolerance for traumatic experience?

How else can I explain the matter-of-fact comments that I enter in my book labeled "Student Contact Info", which is really a notebook in which I catalog student (mis)behaviors to justify points docked or earned on their daily process grades. Sometimes I cannot believe what I am writing - what I am willing to accept to get a student to create art. A sample, DM, 4th period, 5/11:

"Used excessive profanity and pulled pants down to expose his behind, but was otherwise on-task and respectful"

Rate My Teacher

Time to grade the teacher!

I have been mentally compiling a report card for myself, to be completed at the end of the year as a tool for reflection and to identify things to work on over the summer. Now that I have finally put pen to paper - or finger to keyboard, as it were - I am posting the report card in advance so that I can keep these areas in mind, and also share with folks who might be similarly inclined. Here 'tis:

TEACHER NAME _________________
SCHOOL _______________________
SCHOOL YEAR __________________
YEARS OF EXPERIENCE ___________

SUBJECTS:

1. Developing Meaningful Lessons A B C D F
2. Engaging Delivery of Instruction A B C D F
3. Making Personal Connections With Students A B C D F
4. Effective Behavior Management A B C D F
5. Effective Discipline A B C D F
6. Consistency A B C D F
7. Attitude A B C D F
8. Professionalism A B C D F
9. Developing Relationships With Colleagues A B C D F
10. Additional comments:

FINAL GRADE (AVERAGE): _______

STRATEGIES FOR SUCCESS:

"These Things Are Sent To Try Us"

Before school begins, B pulls me aside to ask a "huge, huge favor". Can she take 30 minutes to finish typing a paper that is due the following period, she asks. She was absent on Friday when we started this new unit on color theory and today is Monday. I tell her that I would like to help her but she has to be here for all of the work we are going to do today. Distressed, she says she will "just leave, then, because I have to do this". Why didn't she do it over the weekend, I ask? She says her computer wasn't working. I apologize, but tell her she needs to be here today - I don't want her to fall behind in my class (she is very often absent or late).

She walks out.

I write an administrative referral before the day has even begun.

During the next period, SH ignores the warm-up activity to methodically pick out her hair weaves, leaving them in a pile on the table in front of her. When I (politely) ask her to stop, she reminds me that "it's just hair" and that apparently I have hair, too. When I, in calm and friendly voice, tell her she has to stop grooming herself and instead do her work, she becomes indignant and defensive. "I'm not grooming myself, Mr W! God! Why do you gotta be like that??"

Why do I gotta be like that, I ask myself? For a moment, I try to think if it's alright that there is a pile of hair in front of my student, who is not doing any work. Ultimately, I resolve that it is still not OK, even if it means in deciding so that I'm going to have to continue this absurd conversation.

"This isn't Cosmetology class", I jab. "I know that! Duh!" she parries. After discussing the way she talks to teachers ("I've got to work on that, I know"), she sweeps the hair debris into the trash can and starts to draw.

This was only a quaint warm-up for what would happen in fourth period.

As students filed in after the late bell for fourth period, a crowd began to gather around perennially disengaged SP (an anecdotal aside: she is the only student I've ever had who has not turned in a single project). They were watching - loudly watching - the bootiest of booty-shaking rap videos on a video iPod. One of the more cavalier boys shows me the video on the iPod, certain I will get swept away in its charms. Without giving a customary and admittedly wimpy warning, I confiscate the iPod. Goes straight into a drawer in my locked office.

After getting the class settled, I begin to give a brief introduction to color theory when I am interrupted by JH, who is raising his hand. This class never raises hands, unless there is a joke or a bathroom request.

"What is it, JH?"

He farts.

The rest of the class reacts in the only natural way a room full of teenagers could react. And inside I am cracking up. But I've got to keep it together - I am supposed to be in charge. I stammer through some more requests for order while going over the quickest, most abbreviated intro to color theory ever performed.

JH farts again. SP says I am "boring". Other conversations continue, oblivious to the art class that has stalled out. If pairs of eyes looking at a teacher indicate the number of students paying attention, then I have zero students paying attention.

I conclude the color theory lesson (with a few token, reassuring "I was listening Mr. W"s) and move back to my desk. Out of the corner of my eye, I see an altercation in the corner. It is JH. He is wrestling... no, humping a girl in the corner. It is playful, I hope, and everyone seems to be laughing, but I have actually spoken to him about this at least a half-dozen times ("Sexual harassment, JH! You don't want to mess with that!"). I tell him to gather his things, he is going to CHOICES (a kind of separate setting time-out). He makes big stage tears and cries "boo hoo!" and preens his way to the door.

While I am filling in the CHOICES form, SP has discovered a passion for her confiscated iPod, and is demanding it back immediately. And in no uncertain terms (unless "motherf***in" is an uncertain term). She wants it back right now, and is not going to wait for me to finish what I'm doing.

"SP, you will get it back at the end of the period, now have a seat, please."

"No, this is bulls**t, I want my g**d*** iPod!". She is now opening the drawers of my desk.

"SP, you need to sit down!"

JH continues to mock me with big baby cries, rubbing his eyes that he has to go to CHOICES.

Meanwhile, a student is walking around the class with his pants around his ankles. It is KM. He wants to go to CHOICES, too, to be with JH. He is putting on an act. Other parts of this act will include incredible sailor-like profanity, dancing on the counter, and making himself gag in the sink. I make him suffer through having to stay in art class.

JH is on his way to CHOICES (I will later learn that he never made it there). SP is also out the door. She is cussing me out, saying I need to take control of my "motherf***in class", that my class is "bulls**t", and that she is not coming back. An assessment I understand, but can only feel is ironic coming from the most out-of-control element.

Later, it is revealed that the iPod did not even belong to her. It was borrowed from another student in the class. The day begins - and now ends - with an administrative referral.

"These Things Are Sent To Try Us"

This phrase often runs through my head on days like today. It is the title of a song by the band Clearlake, and actually it is the lilting chorus featuring the title that runs through my head. The song is about romantic dissolution: not my particular problem today, thank goodness, but after a day like today I can share the sentiment that the things we endure must be the product of a curious and mischievous higher power.

There are 27 days left until summer. I count them down now, but there will soon be 180 days until the next summer. And then another 180 days. And another. I must remind myself that the goal is not to get out of this, but to be in it in the best possible way. These things are sent to try us. And it can be won.

Right? ... Right??

Is Target still hiring?

The Wiz

My job-within-a-job at this school is one I did not see coming: set designer. A couple friendly conversations at the beginning of the year with my department head, the theater director, and I am asked to design the set for our fall musical, Dream Girls. Sure, sounds like fun, think I. Plus the design is to be a half-dozen abstract obelisks. Right up my constructivist alley, I beam. After trying to orchestrate the energetic and oh-so-untrained hands of student volunteer painters, I am smacked with the reality of just how much work I have signed up for. The "design" part only lasts a few hours in the quiet of home over a sketchbook. The sketches are consulted with a builder who constructs the pieces and returns them to me where the grunt work is done with drop cloths, paint rollers, ladders, fussy teenagers and lots of loud noise. And did anyone mention that it would take place every day after school for 2 weeks?

Reluctant to revisit the experience, I agree to help paint (but not design) the set for the Black History Month play, Joy's Story. An altogether different experience, this time I am working alone after rehearsals are done. Just an art teacher with a paint roller and some headphones. It is a completely different experience. How can it be possible that one person alone can do the work faster than 6 untrained teenagers? And does this confirm my growing suspicion that I am a sociopath?

The spring musical, The Wiz, was promised to be the biggest production yet (in celebration of our director's twentieth year and looming retirement). With complicated choreography and a raucous soul/funk score with full chorus, it was an ambitiously elaborate (by high school standards) production that required an equally ambitious set. My original design was much more ambitious than realistic, apparently. It was significantly scaled back by the budget-conscious builder and the director who was sensitive to elementary-school children who might possibly be scared off by the headless mannequin torsos on the evil witch's throne (oh, but it looked so cool in the drawings!)

So what you see below is a compromise, but that is all part of creation in collaboration, and it was an outstanding experience from start to finish. In my year at this school I have been fortunate to work closely with this team of talented professionals, and I am proud to represent the visual arts in a school with such a successful performing arts legacy. It is a kind of synergy and solidarity that may be a rare thing (my last school was quite the opposite), and it is one of the things I think of when I question why I teach where I teach.

And oh yes, the kids involved in this play were fantastic.

A special thank you belongs to H, whose invaluable assistance went largely unrecognized. Pictures and notes!:


The cornfield where Dorothy encounters the Scarecrow. (By the way - do you know what a "scary tree" looks like? In the background is my attempt to answer this request)


Kansas farm house, front.


Kansas farm house, back.


Munchkin dwellings


Emerald City gate


Emerald City gate


Emerald City (really just the back of The Wiz's throne. Original design prohibitively large)


The Wiz's throne. (Or is it Flash Gordon's throne?)


Evillene's throne. The pipes emit smoke, and the chair is a false chair that pulls back when the evil witch melts and disappears. Again: original design several times bigger and to incorporate mannequin parts and working televisions tuned to static.


Fairground columns for the good witch's appearance

A roomful of city planners, part 3

Like any Art I-level project, the final cityscape drawings submitted by students were a wildly mixed bag. There were a handful of architectural masterpieces, a broad mid-range of serviceable drawings, and the usual last-minute horrors: a tangle of unfinished lines, creases and rips. In addition to the finished drawing, I asked students to submit a written response in which they would reiterate the objectives of the project and identify various conflicts, analyze how another student resolved the conflicts, and then discuss their own choices. As noted in previous posts, resolutions of the social conflicts (scroll down for the 10 criteria) were based on assumptions made by students. Here are a few of examples [note: no spelling/grammar
corrections]:

1. The low-rent apartments were projects.
In AM's comment below, there is the assumption that the low-rent apartments are one of the "black things". This was not indicated in the criteria, but the assumption is a fair one: there are at least three housing projects zoned for our high school.

2. The white-owned chain restaurant was assumed to be upscale.
This opinion was only verbalized by a few students, but seemed to be assumed by many in the final cityscape drawings. For example, when dividing the city into rich and poor sides, the chain restaurant was often on the rich side as P.F. Chang's or Outback, when it could just as easily be on the other side as Biscuitville or Bojangles.

3.The sewage treatment plant is unsanitary or smelly.
One of the few areas where I guided discussions. The sewage treatment plant is an essential city service, but an unseemly one. How would a city cope with this potential menace, and who would have the power to decide, and where does this power come from? All agreed that the plant would be an olfactory nuisance, and that power is derived from wealth, so it would most
likely be placed near the poor side of town, where people are less inclined to protest. Some assumptions:
AB: "One big conflict would of happened if I would of put the sewage plant beside a restaurant because you would smell a bad smell when you eat so that was my conflict."
KB: "His sewage is right by a [clothing] store and the smell might leak into the clothes"
MH: "Conflicts that arose from these few items were that the hospital couldn't be by the sewage treatment plant because that's unsanitary."

4. The hospital is expensive.
For those without health insurance, the hospital is a forbidding place.
KB: "[I put] the hospital more over to the rich side b/c they can pay for it."

These assumptions led to the following compositional choices:

1. The restaurants could not be placed side by side, as they would be in competition.
MH: "The chain restaurant couldn't be by the 'mom & pop' restaurant because there would be too much competition."
DH: "One conflict I faced is to make sure I do not put the two restaurants by each other."

2. The low-rent apartments shouldn't be near the colleges.
Some students assumed that, since the low-rent apartments were housing projects, expensive colleges (such as our very elite one) would bristle at having them next door. In this case I helped to guide the choices, reminding them that college students live on a very low income and would need housing as well. This encouraged discussions about housing around nearby
NCCU.

3. The sewage treatment plant should be placed near the low-rent apartments, not near businesses.
Again, the sewage treatment plant is seen as an aggressively offensive necessity, but one that should be kept away from those with wealth.
KB: "[I put] the dump over by the cheap apartments because they can't afford to have complaints."
Anon: "I put all the white-owned businesses on one side and all the black owned store near the sewage company."
BA, referencing a student's work in which the sewage plant sidles up next to a Macy's: "I do not agree with the way he planned their city because he put a sewage next to a clothing store. Oh no."

4. Or, the sewage treatment plant should be placed as far away as possible.
AB: "I arranged my cityscape with my sewage plant looking like it was in a far distance and the rest of them was up close. I resolved my conflict by putting the sewage plant in a far distance away from all of the other buildings."

5. Buildings had to be grouped according to economic strata.
AA: "My city was arranged in a way were your lower class people lived on the side of town where there are lower class shops. I put the sewage behind everything because nobody wants to live by waste. I feel great about my work. I did a great job." And discussing another student's work: "Like myself, this artist put all the lower class together because that's the only way
business can survive.

6. And thus, wealth belongs to white people, poverty to black people.
The common thread throughout all of these works was the economic divide along racial lines. The criteria identified black- or white-owned businesses, and identified upscale and low-rent entities, but never combined the two. When creating an economically divided city, the upscale was grouped with the white, the downscale grouped with the black. This can be seen in
many of the comments throughout the project.

7. Equity and convenience, with sensitivity to business competition, were major issues for most of the city planners.
KB: "I arranged my city so that the urban could be with the urban and the rural could be with the rural. I put the bank right in the middle so both sides of the city could get to it and the hospital more over to the rich side b/c they can pay for it... I put my barber shop by the collage and hospital so they could donate hair to cancer patients and the students could get a haircut"
IK: "I arranged my cityscape very carefully. The mom + pop isn't too close to the chain restaurant. The apartments are close to the college for the convenience of students, the bank and hospital are also close by. The sewage plant is on the outer city limits so it doesn't cause problems."
AJM: "I drew the bank in the middle of the city so both sides [black and white] could have the opportunity to get there at the same time."
AP, who drew a complex, multi-block cityscape, first responded to student NM's drawing, highlighting the convenience and fairness of the city plan: "He arranged his cityscape with alot of place that are nicely grouped together. Everything is placed convenient for the 'people' of this city. I think the way that he solved the conflicts was by using an example of a real city and how its set up and just played off those factors. I do agree with his city plan because its very elaborate and well thought out. I think the only problem this city could face is that money (income) would be a major problem". Discussing her own choices, she says "I arranged my cityscape with all of the buildings that 'make sense' sitting side by side on the same blocks. I also put things together that that could benefit each other by the convenience of them being side by side. For example the mom & pop restaurant and barber shop combined bring in more business for each other and play off each others income."
IK: "Each building had to be placed carefully so not cause disturbance or competition between each business."
ED: "I gave the sewage plant some space. I put Durham Regional [Hospital] in the back b/c I know they need a lot of room. I put NCCU by apartments + condos b/c that would be like dorms for them."
KB: "This man has the hospital right in the middle of his town so both sides could get to it. But his bank is to far away from the shopping centers... But i like the fact that the mcdonalds is right by the collage because the studant can just walk to go get something to eat."
ED: "The problems will probably make someone go out of business."

I was deeply heartened by these responses, as they demonstrated true engagement beyond the simple mechanics of drawing in two-point perspective. I watched students make observations about their situation, and reflect these observations in their work. I overheard meaningful discussions about race and class, opportunity and equity. I witnessed students taking apart their city and putting it back together again. Even if it was the same as it was before, they did so with their own power.

If I had a disappointment, it was that students drew such a clear divide between white wealth and black poverty. I had hoped that, through this project, students could use their agency to design a city plan that is equitable for all citizens, or one that proposes opportunities for escaping poverty. If they identified racial, social or economic conflicts, this could be their opportunity to mend them.

This was perhaps a misguided goal, as it asked students to ignore reality. What the students gave me was a reflection of a very real city. The choices they made demonstrated what they believe to be true, and in many cases it was accurate to our city's unique situation. How could I fault them for being true to reality, for being cynical of wealth and power, for being defeatist in their own situation, for being frustrated with inequity, for simply being honest?

A roomful of city planners, part 2

"I wanted to split the two worlds up. I wanted the black things to be [together], such as the haircut places and the low rent apartments." - AM, 10th grade

This statement comes from one of the written reflections submitted by Art I students at the end of the Urban Planner/Cityscape project, and it speaks to the kind of choices made by students in the process of arranging a city with civic, social and economic conflicts. In addition to the compositional choices illustrated by these reflections, I became aware that students were making assumptions about the required content of the drawings. These assumptions would underscore my student's situational context more than than the self-reflection and analysis in their own words could. Though I shouldn't be, I am surprised to find that I learned more about my students from their process than the end product, especially this role of situation as compositional tool.

The 10 criteria for the cityscape had the potential to raise several issues in student thinking, and my goal was to present the criteria without comment to allow the students to establish their own hierarchy of concerns. To recap, the 10 entities that students needed to include in their drawings are as follows:
1. Bank
2. Hospital
3. Apartments (low rent)
4. Condos (upscale)
5. Institution of Higher Learning
6. Sewage Treatment Plant
7. Mom & Pop Restaurant - African-American-owned
8. Chain Restaurant - White-owned
9. Barber Shop - African-American-owned
10. Clothing Store (inexpensive) - White-owned
In reflection of our city's real-life context, these entities could potentially highlight the conflicts that keep the city from progressing as quickly as our more cosmopolitan immediate neighbors. In particular, there are deep-seated racial issues that continue to exist: the city is roughly split down the middle between black and white with a burgeoning Hispanic population. There is a wide class division, emphasized by the elite private university and its largely affluent, out-of-town student body. This class division exists due to the economic disparity of the city, with little common ground between rich and poor. There are naturally social issues that arise from these other conflicts, including racial prejudice, gang activity and a rising crime rate, which inspires further bias in the residents of the neighboring cities. Other civic issues could be brought up, including urban redevelopment and gentrification. And would students make any mention of the flourishing arts community or high-tech, research-based industries?

In observing student group discussions, conferencing with them one on one, and reading written responses, I determined that students made important assumptions that would persuade the content of their cityscape drawings, and these assumptions were based on their own situation. Because of the lack of diversity in my school, the situation is common to most students: the school is predominantly African-American (greater than 90%), with a large portion of the school from middle- and lower-income households. To say the school is struggling academically would be overly polite - it is at the bottom of the district's test scores, and a state consortium has threatened to close the school if scores do not improve. At the same time, the school is a long-standing point of pride in its community, with a national alumni organization and strong sense of tradition. The performing arts department has been successful for years and continues to attract positive attention.

With the commonality of racial and economic backgrounds in the school, I expected race and class to play the biggest role in compositional choices. I also expected to be confronted about these issues as a white teacher. With the class disparity in this city divided along racial lines, I expected to be held as a symbol of affluence as well. This did not happen. My students are savvy enough to know that a person from affluence would not find a public school teacher's salary acceptable.

In the next post, I will identify the assumptions my students made, and will list the choices that resulted from these assumptions.

[To those of you - both of you! - who read this blog, I apologize for the infrequent posts lately. I've been swamped with the spring musical, and hope to get my act back together...]

Interesting Sketchbook Entries, part 3

Results are still coming in for the Urban Planner project. So until then, a placeholder:
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by J, 10th grade

- "Draw a comic strip aobut how you spent your [Thanksgiving] holiday"

First frame: A happy woman holding a baby.
Second frame: 3 weeping figures around a coffin, with text that reads "R.I.P. Baby Matthew".
Third frame: The same woman from the first frame, now weeping, in front of a table full of food.

A roomful of city planners

My primary goal as a teacher, at its loftiest and most philosophical, is to create meaningful, living content for students that encourages critical analysis and self-reflection. Unfortunately, this is the first thing to disappear from view when bogged down by assessments, paperwork, classroom management and endless faculty meetings. Too often I let the students try to find their own meaning in a project as I rush through the introduction in an effort to get their hands busy. But now that I have the benefit of a year's previous experience and a semester under my belt in my current placement, I am able to focus more on these overarching goals - what Neil Postman refers to as the "ends of education", not the means. The means are the technical and mechanical aspects of schooling: standardized testing, integration of technology, methods of remediation and so on. The greater issue, the one that determines the true value of school, is a metaphysical one. "It is important to keep in mind that the engineering of learning is very often puffed up, assigned an importance it does not deserve," he writes in The End of Education. "To become a different person because of something you have learned - to appropriate an insight, a concept, a vision, so that your world is altered - that is a different matter. For that to happen, you need a reason. And this is the metaphysical problem I speak of."

My students are halfway through a project that, in the past, was much more technical than metaphysical. It is called Cityscapes, and in this project, students draw an urban street corner scene using 2-point perspective. Linear perspective is one of those basic art skills that needs to be covered in Art I, either explicitly or implicitly. A good project will embed technique into meaningful, student-driven content, but occasionally there are techniques that are more often studied, at least in part, in isolation before being applied to artwork. Clay technique, and printmaking strategies for example. I had always assumed that linear perspective was one of these techniques as well.

For those who don't know, linear perspective is the graphic system for creating the illusion of depth using lines: the tunnel vision-style of one-point perspective, or the street corner-style two-point. Of all art processes and concepts, it is the one that most resembles a mathematical formula or scientific principle: follow a set procedure, achieve a predictable result. The art teacher is usually in the business of encouraging and rewarding divergent, creative responses, but linear perspective produces convergent, similar responses. It is usually covered in middle school, but since art is not a core requirement after the 5th grade, some of my students may not have had art since elementary school. The challenge becomes to teach a relatively dry subject in a new way. Standard linear perspective projects include Dream Bedrooms (design your fantasy bedroom using one-point perspective) and Cityscapes (design a street-corner scene using two-point perspective). Both have the potential to be fun and creative, but on its own linear perspective is fairly rote, dry stuff.

With the help of my mentor and some inspiring passages by Postman and Paolo Freire, I brainstormed a way to give this project real-world problems, a cultural connection, opportunities for collaboration and meaningful critical analysis. After teaching the principles of perspective and letting students practice it for several days on worksheets and observational activities in the hallway and classroom, I proposed a challenge. They would be required to include 10 different entities in their cityscapes - businesses, living spaces, city services, etc - that would be replaced by actual local entities of their choice. The dilemma: some of these entities may be in conflict with each other. Role-playing as City Planner, how would they acknowledge the issues that exist in our city, resolve some of these conflicts, and design a city plan that is safe, productive and equitable?

The 10 entities are:
1. Bank
2. Hospital
3. Apartments (low rent)
4. Condos (upscale)
5. Institution of Higher Learning
6. Sewage Treatment Plant
7. Mom & Pop Restaurant - African-American-owned
8. Chain Restaurant - White-owned
9. Barber Shop - African-American-owned
10. Clothing Store (inexpensive) - White-owned

Our city has a population split approximately down the middle between black and white (with a burgeoning Hispanic population). It is a southern city, and has a typically unsavory history of racism and segregation. There is also an economic disparity split roughly along racial lines, with a giant, glaring symbol of this rift in the form of an elite private college populated largely by affluent white students from outside the community, especially New England. The nation
learned of our city's racial and economic disparity less than a year ago when several of this university's athletes were accused of raping an African-American student from a neighboring, historically black college.

How would my students address these issues? Would they acknowledge or ignore these problems? Would they, all but a handful being African-American, resent discussing these issues with a white teacher? Would they keep things in the city the way they are, if given the power of an urban planner, or would they try to fix problems that they see?

We've gone pretty far beyond a Dream Bedroom in one-point perspective now.

I broke students up into groups and proposed some of these questions. I let them discuss it for 10 minutes or so, sketching some ideas for their city plan, then had them share their results. I circulated the room while they collaborated, and was impressed with the level of engagement in most groups. Discussions were meaningful and often intense. Disagreements occurred, often settled by a debate about the logic of a certain scenario. For example, it was difficult for students to resolve the issue of the sewage treatment plant. It couldn't be put near a living space or a restaurant or a hospital. Where do cities usually place such things? How could they include this urban necessity, while still being fair to the population?

Some sample discussions:

R & E (period 4) decided that the low-rent apartments should go downtown so that those people could have access to the things they need. They also put the bank and the restaurants downtown as well. They placed the upscale condos far on the edge of town, thinking that the wealthier people could afford cars/transportation, while low-income residents would need to walk.

Bright & creative K (period 4) surprised me by designing a city that was essentially the way it is now: a racially and economically segregated city. The chain restaurants ("upscale" by her assumption) were placed next to the college, bank and upscale condos. The mom & pop restaurant and barber shop - both black-owned - were placed near the low-rent apartments, which sidled up to the sewage treatment plant.

A, a distracted kid who is usually more interested in the remote control for my stereo than any art project, asked why there wasn't a library in the cityscape. Together, we decided there should also be a school and a grocery store for future projects.

The students have just begun to produce final drawings of their cityscapes, incorporating all of these themes and ideas. The culminating activity will be a gallery walk, where students observe and discuss each other's work, then produce a written response about the exercise.

As results come in, I hope to record them here. In the meantime, I will look ahead to future projects and redesign them so that the focus continues to be about the ends of education, not the means.

A hostile audience

"God! I do NOT want to do this! Art is stupid! God-uh... Why can't I change classes??" So sang B, the day after it became too late to change classes.

One of the things that attracted me to teaching as a career was the fact that it retained some of the most exciting elements of music as a career - creative, social, with a performance aspect - while adding more rewarding and frankly reliable elements - a state paycheck with state benefits, professional opportunities, and oh right, the chance to positively impact the lives of children. I think it is my background in those first elements that has made my career shift relatively smooth and painless. When I was a record store owner, I learned that if we wanted to be able to pay our bills every month, we needed to adapt to the slippery, evasive needs of our clientele. Perhaps more importantly, as a performer I learned how to negotiate a hostile bar crowd who has not come to see you play tonight, and is refusing to pay the $3 cover charge required if they want to continue to drink there. You stock the right records, you play the right covers, you contort yourself but don't sell yourself out. If we were saving a cover of Cheap Trick's "Surrender" for an encore, we'd open with it to appease the scowling bikers and hobos hovering around our girlfriends.

My brother, now a Penn State faculty member, followed a similar career trajectory from bar band to classroom. From tot to teen, I admired the rock star side of him, and was honestly perplexed by his passion for education. I remember him saying, after being asked by a confused little brother who had just inherited his vintage, no-longer-used Gretsch Chet Atkins Tennessean, that teaching was just as satisfying as performing. Standing up in front of a class of students, he assured me, was just as rewarding as standing up in front of an audience at a club.

I didn't believe him.

Now that I'm on the rational side of planning a career in the creative arts, I can understand where he is coming from, and yes, it is just as rewarding. Maybe even more so, because you know it matters. Songs are great, and I love nothing more than being told by a complete stranger that my music affected them on a deep level, but what fills me with happiness now is to see a student discover a love for art, or if I'm lucky, discover that they have a valid, even important voice.

That's why I take B's comments as a challenge, and one that I'm ready to win.

The project was Hand Drawings, wherein students practice and apply skills for drawing from life and observation - accurate shading and detail are preferred. Though seemingly simple, it is exactly the kind of project that causes a student like B to shut down. Drawing the human body, especially something as complex as the hand, requires a fair amount of skill and, because of the familiarity of the subject, leaves little room for error. Everyone is familiar with what their hand looks like (it's not like the back of their hand, it IS the back of their hand!), so for a student who feels like she can't draw, it is like being asked to speak Russian or breathe underwater. Most often, a student who doesn't understand will reject the project by either shutting down or becoming defiant. B was feeling defiant.

"Let's take it one step at a time. Now, how do you begin drawing hands?" I say. I had shown them some techniques whereby the artist simplifies an object into geometric shapes.

"I don't care, it's stupid!". She is looking away from me. But I'm still there.

"Well, can I see what you've done so far?"

"I didn't do anything. It's not good, I'm not an artist. God, can't I change classes? Can't I take Creative Writing or music instead?"

She has drawn something, in fact, and I move it closer. She is still looking away, and is very poor at hiding her annoyance with me.

It is a rudimentary mitten-shape hand - the first step in the process of observational drawing through geometric reduction. There are still three steps to go: contour lines for the shape of the fingers and hand, details in the wrinkles and lines, and finally shading.

"OK, well this is actually a good start," I encourage.

"No it's not, it's dumb. God."

"Look, you've only just started. Right, it's not beautiful now - I wouldn't buy this and put it in a frame and hang it on the wall - but you're on the right track. You just have to keep going."

She is looking at the drawing now, not looking away. She is quiet.

"It's like cooking. Do you cook? Well let's say you're making a soup. You melted some butter in a pan, cut up some onions, and then you push the pan away saying, 'I can't make soup'. Well you haven't made soup yet! You're only getting started! Wait til you make the soup and taste it, then you can decide if you can make soup or not. OK?"

She is still looking at the drawing. She has picked up her pencil, and is kind of tickling the paper with her pencil. I move away and keep my distance for the remainder of class, but I keep my eye on her. She will work on her drawing for the rest of period.

At the end of class, she comes up to me with a finished drawing of a hand like her own, holding a pencil. It is crude and simple, but she is beaming.

"Look, what do you think?" she gushes. I praise enthusiastically, it is the freaking Mona Lisa. I give her a verbal pat on the back, saying that I always knew she could do it.

She takes the drawing with her, and will come back periodically throughout the day to show me her progress on the drawing. A little detail added to the knuckles. A change in design to a baby hand holding a rattle, and oh yes, how do you draw a rattle? Some color, some shadow. How do you get the right skin tone?

She hasn't asked to drop my class since.

Foreign tongues

Like much of the southeast, my city is experiencing a explosion in the immigrant population - primarily of Hispanic (especially Mexican) background. As such, I have an influx of students of varying English competency. Last semester these students were all on very high levels, nearly fluent, and required little modification. This semester is a different story. In my second period class there are two boys who speak extremely limited English, to be generous. Their English is worse than my Spanish, which despite my 6 years of study is limited to Mexican restaurant menus, bathroom requests and a Sesame Street guy-in-the-desert vocabulary.

These kids are typically among my hardest working students, not only because they want to learn the material and fulfil their academic responsibility (the strongest work ethics in the building, if I may generalize), but they are also struggling to overcome a tough language barrier. It is not classified as such, but it is nothing other than a disability - an impediment to learning more dramatic than dyslexia. Fortunately, my job is easier than other teachers because mine is essentially a visual discipline, and I routinely model techniques and processes before students ever begin. An ELL (English language learner) student can follow along with my demonstrations to understand concepts. I couldn't imagine being a chemistry teacher and putting volatile chemicals into the hands of a student who can't understand a verbal warning (I picture chemistry teachers miming explosions with big hand gestures, saying "Boom!").

In second period, I am explaining my techniques to the whole class - in English, of course - with clear demonstrations, then I will take the ELL students aside and ask, "Do you understand?... um, Comprenedes?". They will nod politely, but it is clear they haven't the foggiest notion what to do. I've started bringing a Spanish/English dictionary to school, and I will slog through a clumsy translation of the assignment, flipping pages as I go: "Um, Dibujar... la (objects, what's the word for...) que es la palabra para "objects"... objetas, objetos con su lapiz, y... dibujar... la... (shadows, shadows... here it is) sombra. Dibujar la sombra. Si?" They nod, correct my pronunciation a bit, and continue to draw according to my visual demonstration.

I need to develop a basic Spanish proficiency if I am to properly serve this growing population, but I also need to discern when it is helpful to speak their native tongue, and when it is necessary to help them speak English. My projects, though visual art projects, often have written responses that ask students to reflect on their challenges and successes. Is it good to encourage these students to write a more sophisticated response in their native tongue (which I can have another student or teacher translate for me), or is it better to make them struggle with the foreign tongue? Does it promote or enforce some sort of assimilation for a student who may only be in the United States temporarily? When does adaptation end and assimilation begin? Is it my responsibility to know the difference? Is this overthinking for a high-school art teacher? Are there ways for us to incorporate their culture into our artwork so that we may learn from them without exploiting/exoticizing their experience? We are told to do so in our teacher education programs, but rarely shown how.

One of my most talented students - the one and only student in the school's new IB Visual Art program (a point of pride for a later post) - is also in this classroom at the same time. She is quite proficient in high school Spanish, has noticed these students struggling and has begun translating for me during instruction. I have been impressed with her ability to identify the need and attempt to help without being asked or made to oblige. She has done so because she can, and I know that she respects the ELL students and especially admires their culture, because I can see its influence in her artwork.

Not surprisingly, they have taken notice of her, too. I happened to notice that she wrote them a note explaining the assignment in Spanish, which she passed to them so they could understand what they were asked to do. The note came back with the following response:

"Tienes boyfrent?"

A little guidance

I learned quite a bit about the inner-workings of our school in the past weeks. I spent some time with our guidance counselors to discuss the issues raised in my last entry - namely, that students are placed in my class against their will ("dumped", a reactionary teacher would say) when a different placement may suit them better. The issue is more complicated than that, naturally. It seems there are across-the-board problems with the master schedule involving a sort of bottle-necking of students during 2nd and 3rd period. Classes are overcrowded throughout the building, and available electives are few. Students with gaps in their schedule may only have a choice between Art and ROTC (which would you choose?). And typically there are students who don't know where they want to be when they're signing up for classes - until they get there and realize that ain't it.

Still, I had a few students who were defiantly opposed to learning anything about art (?) and were desperate to switch classes. I went to guidance and advocated for a different placement for these students, expecting to be politely shown the door. On the contrary, the counselors were understanding and immediately accommodating. They actually changed two student schedules while I was there. This sort of thing is completely unprecedented - "Don't even bother going to guidance", other teachers warned me, "That won't get you anywhere." These teachers would probably be the types to storm in and slap their roster down on a counselor's desk demanding satisfaction. Instead, I approached them in a friendly way, as colleagues, and got immediate results. I was even able to express concerns about class size and shoot the breeze about the value of art education in general. This is not to say that my challenges expressed earlier are solved - I am still working to promote engagement and quell the drift toward entropy, always will - but it's nice to know that the powers that be are at least nominally sympathetic.

So it's hard to be a guidance counselor, I suppose. Especially at a school with the organizational horrors of ours. And hokey as it sounds, it seems people are just plain ol' people if you treat them nice. The saying about flies and the vinegar and honey may be true.

Now, what to do with those students who weren't able to change my class? (And there's quite a few of them!). Should I grade them on their ability to ignore me and sleep, or can you make a semester out of hand turkeys?

First days of the new semester

My particular high school runs on a 4x4 block schedule, in which year-long courses are condensed into one semester via 90-minute blocks - four in one semester, and a different four the next semester. Basically, this means that at semester change, teachers are looking at a completely different school. Today is Day 2 of the new spring semester.

There are a few challenges I am facing in the transition to the new semester, but they are challenges that every art teacher will face on the first days. They are not unique to art, by the way, but are common mostly among process-oriented electives (music, foods, theater, team sports, etc.) because these are considered "non-academic" courses by guidance counselors and administration. Let's put aside the fact that a basic art curriculum will cover all eras of human history through its art, will teach science and physics in the making of art, and will ask students to critically analyze themes, abstract concepts and symbols across time-periods, media and even art forms - the argument for the academic nature of art is very important to me, but one that is inappropriate for this reflection. Regardless, the new semester challenges stem from this point of view that art is non-academic, and therefore a repository for the dispossessed.

Guidance counselors often need to fill holes in a student's schedule. Theoretically, students will see a list of available elective courses, and will choose the course that interests them the most. Very often, this never happens and students are placed somewhere against their will. English-language learners and what NC calls "exceptional children" are very frequently placed in art classes. For this, your average art teacher is a master of differentiation: modeling techniques to non-English speakers, and assisting EC students through modified lessons. This is all part of the job, and honestly what makes me feel like I am actually teaching, instead of guiding or even just talking. These students are placed in art because they are more likely to be successful here than in other "academic" courses, but also because they are keeping them away from all-important EOC (end of course) classes which contribute to the schools achievement numbers. Understandable - a student from Ecuador should learn to speak English before he is tested on poetry. But there are other students who do not fit into the above categories who are placed in art without their consent. These are the students who sigh as they walk in, throw their books down and flop into their seat, immediately putting their hood up and head down.

There is a tension between students who have chosen to be in the class and those who did not. Approximately one-third of the students say they took an art class because they thought it would be fun or interesting, another third admit that it sounded easy, and the final third claim that they are in art because, simply, guidance put them there. This will always be a fact of life to an intro-level art class. The way it manifests is a push and pull between two forces: the force of engagement/curiosity and the force of disengagement/entropy. Today, I did a quick visual scan of the students while giving my brief lecture, and in each class there were mixed results, but tipping towards the first force. About half of the students were actively listening, responding, while the balance looked down at the table. Each class had only one or two students who belonged to the latter group: heads down, no pencil in sight. These students would later plead for a pass to guidance in order to transfer out. I am happy to accommodate this request. In one case, another student in the middle group (easy grade) saw my willingness to write a pass to guidance and asked for one herself. When asked why, she said that she "did this all before in middle school". I coaxed her back in with the promise of new and exciting art, but this served to highlight the importance of catching and engaging those students in the middle so they don't drift into the "dark side".

On the whole, I am happy with my new students - I think I am winning the fight against entropy. Most of my students show either full engagement or mild curiosity, or at least a basic, quiet respect. Only a few actively reject the class, but they're rejecting what they think they know about art, or what they resent about school - not me. I can only name one out-and-out joker, the kind I will probably be calling home about and giving detention to. You can always tell who these students are because you learn their names right away.

After two days, I am encouraged and hopeful, but a little lonely for the last group. My friend and colleague H expressed something similar in her blog, which I will use here because the sentiment fits nicely:

"There was an odd feeling inside me today, an empty-ish feeling. I think it because I am so used to coming into a room full of kids whom I love and know and who love and know me back. I miss my kids! But there was also a lot of excitement—for new chances, for better teaching, for meeting so many new, fresh, and fun students."

Now off to guidance with the rest of you lot!

Interesting Sketchbook Entries, part 2

by B, 10th grade

- In a lesson on Harlem Renaissance, "Draw a picture of what you think is the most important issue today":

Shows a map of South Korea, and a picture of Kim Jong Il and a you-are-here-style arrow pointing to South Korea. A missile is flying through the air to a map of the U.S., and a sign saying "Might be next" points to the United States, and Washington D.C. in particular. D.C., according to this map, is located in northern Montana.

At the bottom of this sketch, is a picture of "Bush's Enemies" with an arrow pointing to the globe, and "Barrack Obamba's [sic] enemies" with an arrow pointing to the word "none".

Interesting Sketchbook Entries, pt. 1

by A, a native of Mexico who recently relocated to Durham:

- "Where will you be in 20 years?"
Map of US & Mexico, with a drawing of her where Mexico City should be, surrounded by words like "helping people" and a book titled "El Vendedor Mas Grande Del Mundo" (The Greatest Salesman in the World). The drawing of Mexico is relatively accurate, the drawing of the U.S. is a big squiggle.

- "Fill in the blank and use the phrase as a sketchbook title: 'I Am A ___ In This World'"
"I am a human that can't understand the exist in this world"

3rd period, home stretch

Some miscellaneous notes from last week with 3rd period, my most challenging class:

Class began with a disorganized ramble through the sketchbook review, prolonged by the half-dozen late comers. Was to end at 11, then 11:05. Finally, at 11:15, I said we have to move on.

T slept thru the sketchbook review with a hood over her head. I asked T to wake up and take the hood off, to which C thought she found another example of my blatant injustice. "You let (so-and-so) wear her hood all day yesterday, you better NOT be telling her to take her's off, I can't believe you Mr W".

T continued to sleep. When I woke her up and asked her to get started on her work, she blew up at me: "No! I'm not doing it! Go away! Stop talking! Leave me alone! Go!" (Imagine this in a sing-songy high-pitched whine). I imediately called her in my office, and to my surprise she came in right away. I started saying something about how this sketchbook review is the project we are working on, and it's an important part of her grade, and before I could get to the part about the importance of being respectful in her conversations with me, she broke down crying. Dumbstruck, I stammered something about how we all have a bad day now and then, but just did not know what to say (I think I managed a mumbled "Do you want to talk about it?") Did her boyfirend dump her? Did she get a paper-cut? Does her father beat her? Did she just find out she's pregnant? What other horrible calamity might she be afflicted with that I am grossly unequipped to address? I let her sit back down. She slept for the rest of the class.

Tried to get everyone's attention to make announcements about remaining schedule: turn in finished projects, finish unfinished ones (printmaking, research project poster), then start the optional 2-day project, Copper Embossing

The mention of a new project was met with an uproar. Granted, there are only 2 days left, but it is a 2 day project, is optional, and is actually somewhat fun. I heard micellaneous unfavorable grumbles about me, and others said they plan to sleep on the last day. Got many requests for a movie. Got firmly rebuked when I mentioned that this wasn't going to happen.

Rest of the class was actually fine, with all students working on miscelanneous projects and some not working at all (T, S, and M who planned to sleep the last day), but at least being quiet about it. Regardless, the projects they turn in will be just as half-assed as they were yesterday.

Halfway through class and still no work begun by S. Approached her about it, and asked her what she was working on. With headphones on, she replies, "Huh?" I ask her to take the headphones off. I ask her again. She says she didn't get the paper for Copper Embossing (it is right in front of her), and I move it an inch closer. She asks what she is supposed to do. Others around her chuckle at this, because I have just finished giving my instruction. I start again from the very beginning, anyway, talking about the copper and the sculpting tools. She interrupts: "Don't try to play me like I'm stupid!"

I melted Lou Reed's face

Art III/IV, second period:

Halfway through a screen printing project with the advanced students. It is the hand-cut, green-film, stencil kind of screen printing, not the photo-emulsion, Andy Warhol-style, so it's fairly labor intensive. All of the kids are really into this project because they are eager to see the final product, but they're struggling with the fine attention to detail it requires. "Damn, this project requires patience, yo!" says one student about every 30 minutes.

I made my own stencil, based on one Warhol's screen tests of Lou Reed. Fantastic image, and quite nicely rendered, I must say.

Using my stencil as the sample, I gave a demonstration on how to adhere the film to the screen using the requisite noxious chemicals. First pass, didn't stick. Not even close. When I went to peel off the clear plastic backing, the whole stencil came right with it, as if to say "What, I'm supposed to stick to the screen or something?" Second pass with chemicals, no dice. Peeled up again. The kids got restless and wandered away - "Let us know when it's ready, Mr. W". Third pass I really let that sucker have it. Soaked it to the bone, with mind-erasing fumes wafting up, making the classroom air wavy.

Peeled the backing, and realized I had completely melted the film. No hope of saving it. It was vapor. Left a slightly green-tinted empty screen behind.

The kids laughed, but feared for their own project. "I hope that doesn't happen to mine, because that s**t takes a long time to do, brah" (By the way, I don't know the correct spelling of this colloquialism, obviously an evolution of "bro"; I have chosen "brah" but I imagine "bruh" or "bra" would be acceptable as well). I concurred, and said that I wish it hadn't happened to mine, either.

Once kids were ready to do theirs, I tried to think of what was different about this time (failure) with last weeks experiment (success), and the only variable was the rag that I used - I used paper towels last week. So I worked closely with the first students, and had them use paper towels to apply the chemicals. Thankfully, we had total success. I was, of course, very worried that none of the screens would adhere, rendering a week's work worthless, and throwing a 3-day hole in my lesson plan. Fortunately, the ghost of Andy Warhol smiled upon me today.

"Oh right, Cubism!"

The last post came on a Wednesday - a dark, doom-laden Wednesday - but because of the winter break was more like a souped-up Monday. I left that day hoping that things would get better on my return, but fearing that they wouldn't - fearing that I had created a delusional acceptance of a bad, hopeless situation.

I was wrong, of course. Thursday came and went without event. Friday, even better. In fact, my third period charmers were at their most well-behaved, and closest to intrinsically motivated they have ever been. They listened patinetly throughout my announcements, responded with interest to posted due dates, and began work on projects right away. To my delight, students seemed concerned about their due or overdue projects, and took efforts to turn in things that had long been forgotten. I was handed a half-dozen Cubist paintings and a stack of linoleum prints - and I've never been happier to grade things. And to my further delight (and surprise), students who were completely caught up on their projects asked to do another one! A student asked for another linoleum block so he could make another print - a fairly complicated and challenging project. Another student asked for one more canvas panel so he could paint whatever he wanted. Canvas panels ain't cheap, but I wanted to shower him with beautiful, virginal, pristine, expensive canvas panels.

Who are these kids? What did I do differently? Where were they Wednesday?

Is it just that today isn't the first day back from break? Is it that Wednesday was such a nightmare that these other calm days seem heavenly by comparison? Or is it a complete and total crap shoot? I hope that it is something I did, or something I set in place that is finally manifesting itself, though I know it is more likely the crap shoot.

"What is Cubism?"

A student walks in the door before the bell and leaves. He will return 10 minutes into class.

At the bell, I welcome everyone back from break and describe the daily bellwork activity: a comic strip-style sketch about how you spent your winter break. I am addressing 50% of the students who are supposed to be there. Of those, 1 is listening.

Students begin to trickle in.

Two perennially late students arrive 5 minutes into class and do not sign the Tardy Log (with which they are quite well acquainted). They ignore my requests to do so. One sits down and immediately puts headphones on, while the other circulates the room in search of batteries.

I describe the bellwork activity again. This time 2 students are listening. One of them is the same student who listened the first time. She is already done with the bellwork and is waiting to start the next activity. Her name is R, and she is my most patient student.

The first student is back now. He has joined the battery-seeking student, named A (who everyone agrees is a bit of a goofball), and is talking about portable video games. He ignores my requests for him to return to his seat. When he eventually does – on his own terms, of course – he will begin playing the video game he was just talking about. He will ignore my requests to put it away. He will wear a hood and sunglasses. He will ignore my requests to take them off. He will sometimes acknowledge my request with a preening, sarcastic “Yes, Massah!” which he does today. He will also occasionally inform me that I am one of his favorite teachers. His name is W. He will follow this script every day.

The students are chattering through the first 15 minutes of class. Some of them have begun the bellwork. Approximately one-third will never touch a pencil.

When I identify a lull in the chatter, I ask for everyone’s attention and describe the expectations for the day. Students should turn in their Cubist paintings first. The Cubist paintings are due on Friday, and it is today Wednesday. Next, students should continue working on the printmaking project. The printmaking project will conclude on Friday. After that, if anyone is finished, students should finish glazing unfinished bust sculptures. Uncharacteristically, students remain quiet throughout most of my two-and-a-half minute address.

I conclude my speech, and I ask if they have any questions. The only questions that are asked are “What is Cubism?” and “What is a bust sculpture?” I remind them that Cubism was the painting project they spent two weeks working on, and that a bust sculpture is the ceramic head that took them three weeks to make. I thank them for their attention, and let them know they can get started, reminding them to start with Cubism, then printmaking, then bust sculpture.

No one gets up.

I try to make a goofy joke, something like, “Gee, don’t everyone get up at once!”

Students continue to chatter or sit idly. R gets up and collects her things, apparently wishing she didn’t have to be the first.

I walk around the room and one by one ask students to get out their work.

They begin to do so. Some grumble.

I will be asked to re-explain the printmaking process to 2 students, who sit side by side. The second one, C, will not listen to me explain it to her friend, T, who is seated right beside her. C will ask all of the same questions asked by T. C will make the same mistakes as T. C will get annoyed with me, and say things like “What you trying to make me do?” and “You better watch your mouth” as I show her how to dispense ink from a tube. She will ask me to get each supply for her – the paper, the brayer, the ink, the cutting tool, the newspaper – and will protest when I remind her that she is capable of getting it herself. She will use each supply incorrectly. She will say that I have it in for her when I try to show her again how to use it. She will say that I am making her mess up on purpose. C is 19 and she has a child.

Someone comes to the door, bearing food – someone I don’t know – and asks to see C. I tell this person that C is in class right now and is busy. She says she has to talk to C for a minute. I tell her that C will be done at 12:16, and can join her then. This girl gets annoyed with me and asks why she can’t see C right now. I ask where she is supposed to be. She says lunch. I tell her to return to lunch, C is in class, and C will be able to join her at 12:16. I close the door as this girl continues to ask to talk to C.

I notice that some students are working, but many are working on each other’s projects. Students who are behind on their work have convinced others to do their work for them. I remind them to do their own work, and I make a goofy joke about having to give this student a grade instead. The students return their work to its rightful owner. One of these owners is J. He is constantly asking other people to do his work for him. He is also constantly asking me to get his supplies for him – a pencil, a piece of paper, his sketchbook, the printmaking supplies – and when I remind him that he is capable he will say “But you’re right there!” I am never right there.
I duck into my office, and when I return one of my students has opened the door to the outside – not the door to the hallway, the door to the outside – and has allowed another student to enter, bearing food. I do not know this student. I tell my student not to open doors for people, and I stop this student to ask him his name and why is going through my room. He tells me his name and said that all the other doors were locked (he is allowed to go through the front door, if he is a senior). I write down this student’s name, send him to the cafeteria, and tell him that I won’t write him up, but he cannot enter the building through my room and disrupt my class again. He is apologetic and nervous. (Later in the day, this student will return to my room and apologize again. This will make me feel like a heel.)

When I return to the classroom, J is sitting on the table watching another girl glaze his bust sculpture for him. I approach him by saying his name, but he ignores me. I say his name 5 more times, each one at a firm but conversational volume level. He continues to ignore me. I say “OK” and walk to my desk, where I keep my CHOICES (in-school suspension referrals). He says “wait, wait, wait” and says he was listening. I call him over to my desk and tell him if he continues to ignore me and not do his work that I will send him and his bust sculpture to CHOICES. He agrees to return to his seat and do his work.

Some students bring up completed work, and I grade a few cubist paintings and a bust sculpture.

I never get to make my rounds. I sometimes make 10 rounds a day, helping students, asking questions of them, answering their questions.

J asks for a bathroom pass at about 30 minutes before the bell. I grant him one. He will not return.

W also asks for a bathroom pass. He has used all of his passes for the semester. He convinces me it is an emergency. I cave, and grant him one. I always cave to W for a reason that I have yet to determine. He does return, though. Perhaps it’s because I am his favorite teacher?

It is the first day back from Christmas break.

This day was a typical day in the life of my third period class, which is perhaps why it seemed so intolerable. I am used to being ignored, whined at, complained to, talked over, ignored a bit more, even made fun of a little. These things are just part of the landscape at my particular high school, and I don’t take any offense at it. It’s just disheartening that it was still there. After recuperating for nearly two weeks, I had recharged my inner battery and found some physical and mental energy to return to this routine. I began to feel better. Better in myself and better about myself. And I think somewhere along the line I got confused, thinking I had something to feel better about.

But this was a particularly bad day, I must remind myself. One almost completely free of any teaching. One completely consumed with the things they told us new teachers we’d really be doing – things like classroom management, and well, classroom management. And that’s fair. After all, it was the first day back from a two week vacation. It becomes troubling, though, when these recurring issues prevent me from doing what I am trying to do: teach them about art. It is hard for me to teach them what I need to teach them. It is impossible for me to teach them what I want to teach them.

And it is becoming clear that several of these students are going to fail my class, and in all of these cases, it is because these students are not turning in their work. It is only irritating to me that they don’t listen to instructions or due dates, but it is dangerous for them. My challenge with this class is to identify what I am doing wrong on my end to engage them, and how I can address the ways they are acting out on their end.

But for now, I will just remind myself: It is the first day back from Christmas break.