The late Eileen Healy was an active Ten Penny Player’s board member, who we often turned to for her articulate opinions and insight. She was one of the first Easter Seal poster children and as an adult became director of New York City’s Easter Seals. A long time and well loved disability rights advocate Eileen mentored Barbara and me, as arts special educators and parents of a student with multiple disabilities. Eileen and Frieda Zames (Mathematician, author and president of Disabled In Action) encouraged us to bring the Waterways Project of Ten Penny Players to Goldwater Memorial Hospital, which was the first public hospital in America devoted solely to the treatment of chronic diseases.
Our colleagues in the disability rights movement were pioneers of the independent living movement. At that time Anne Emerman was the Director of the Mayor’s Office for People with Disabilities (MOPD) and Marilyn Saviola was Director of Center for the Independence of the Disabled in New York (CIDNY). Many years before, they each had been residents at Goldwater Hospital, the largest residential long-term health facility in the New York City. They were aware of the dilemma faced by residents, whose lives in an institution may have dimmed their expectations for achievement in the outside world. Our work was to give voice, enable expression and self advocacy and through publishing to get their words and dreams out of the residence to a greater audience.
Through the public school system’s special education superintendency, Waterways was able to work with hospitalized students, attending the Goldwater learning center. The students published their poetry and prose in magazines of expressive writing. The students who were hospitalized as the result of street violence were encouraged by Mayor Dinkins to give voice to their stories, and to tour city schools as advocates for reducing the level of violence in the communities.
One of the residents, Starry, had been admitted after an automobile accident that left her unable to walk. She was adjusting to the trauma, and preparing to return to the world outside the institution. Through writing and publishing she was able to communicate her concerns. In one of her poems, she wrote:
When the difficult times
Make me sigh,
I try to persevere
head up high
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Renewed Feelings (Streams 5) -- part v
Over the years, Waterways would receive writing by students who had their lives changed by events in the news. “The Invasion of Grenada” related the experience from Karen’s first person point of view:
“I was born in the Virgin Island and I lived in Grenada since I was about two months old. From the time I remember knowing myself, everyone around me was very kind, thoughtful and caring. In Grenada everyone in the neighborhood is like a Great Big Family. I thought Grenada was the world’s best island.
One morning my aunt came running down the alley screaming, “Mama, mama there’s a fire in the port.” I turned the radio on and it was all over the radio. I thought it was only a fire and it would pass.
Less than two hours later I went to feed my goat and an American soldier came right out of the sand and said to me, ‘Miss this area is restricted.’ My heart dropped right out of place. I wondered what was happening. Before I knew it, troops, helicopters, and tanks were all over, and gun shots were coming from everywhere.
All the neighbors, men and women were screaming at their children. ‘Get into the house and don’t come out.’ My grandmother was terrified. She was mostly worried about me going outside and getting hurt. From my bedroom window looking out, I could see the children running, people falling and blood from the people who got shot. My aunt’s husband, who was a soldier in the army in Grenada, came home with his finger dislodged by a bullet. As days went by, all you heard was yelling, screaming and gun shots.
All you heard for five days were trucks moving about, as they picked up the dad bodies in the streets. The American Soldiers took over a bank near by, and stayed there. The government passed a curfew that no one should be seen outside after 6 p.m. or they would be shot down on sight.
I had never seen anything like it in all my life. I never did learn the purpose of the invasion. People lost their homes and some of their families in the invasion, but today Grenada is pulling itself back together as the little beautiful island it used to be.”
Streams 5
“I was born in the Virgin Island and I lived in Grenada since I was about two months old. From the time I remember knowing myself, everyone around me was very kind, thoughtful and caring. In Grenada everyone in the neighborhood is like a Great Big Family. I thought Grenada was the world’s best island.
One morning my aunt came running down the alley screaming, “Mama, mama there’s a fire in the port.” I turned the radio on and it was all over the radio. I thought it was only a fire and it would pass.
Less than two hours later I went to feed my goat and an American soldier came right out of the sand and said to me, ‘Miss this area is restricted.’ My heart dropped right out of place. I wondered what was happening. Before I knew it, troops, helicopters, and tanks were all over, and gun shots were coming from everywhere.
All the neighbors, men and women were screaming at their children. ‘Get into the house and don’t come out.’ My grandmother was terrified. She was mostly worried about me going outside and getting hurt. From my bedroom window looking out, I could see the children running, people falling and blood from the people who got shot. My aunt’s husband, who was a soldier in the army in Grenada, came home with his finger dislodged by a bullet. As days went by, all you heard was yelling, screaming and gun shots.
All you heard for five days were trucks moving about, as they picked up the dad bodies in the streets. The American Soldiers took over a bank near by, and stayed there. The government passed a curfew that no one should be seen outside after 6 p.m. or they would be shot down on sight.
I had never seen anything like it in all my life. I never did learn the purpose of the invasion. People lost their homes and some of their families in the invasion, but today Grenada is pulling itself back together as the little beautiful island it used to be.”
Streams 5
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Renewed Feelings (Streams 5) -- part iv
The longest article on fatherhood in Streams 5 was “Incarcerated Dads” by Frankie P. This thoughtful meditation is an in depth analysis that includes his commentary on the importance of communication and literacy. The intelligence and candor of the author is evident. The remarkable thing is that he was able to produce this piece of writing while being incarcerated himself and that he was able to entrust his work to the Waterways teaching artist/editor, Matthew Hejna-Luque, who helped him share his message through publication:
“Being a parent in the system is very hard to deal with. Many times at night I find myself lost, deep in thought, and at the same time my peers are in the same form of thinking. What we go through on the inside can tear this world apart.
Many people out there do not know how it feels to be incarcerated. Being locked away from your loved ones and not knowing when is the next time, or if, you are going to see them really hurts. It is not a matter of winning your case. It is a matter of surviving the penitentiary. There are many fights, slashings and stabbings in the system, and you never know when it will be you. You can be the type that just wants to do your time and get out, but problems still occur. Walking with eyes in back of your head and sleeping with one eye open are some of the survival skills one learns in the system. Watching your every step puts a lot of pressure on an inmate. With all this pressure, we still have to deal with the thought of losing our families.
Many of us are afraid to return to our homes and find out that our child is calling another man, ‘Dad.’ Often we entertain the negative thought of our wives leaving with the baby to be with another man, because she needs the material things in life. Sometimes she may forget that her child has a birth father, who has feelings for his child. But we must understand that it is hard to raise a child by yourself and you do need the help of your mate.
Many times in prison we see men with renewed feelings towards their family and children. Why do we get this sudden change of how we feel towards our family? I think it’s because of the environment we are in. In here our lives are being conditioned. We are told when to eat, sleep, get up and sometimes even talk. Now we are able to appreciate the smallest things in life, such as a walk through the park and even buying a piece of candy without being restricted to eat it. Here we are able to search and find our true feelings, that we thought we never had. Is it that we never had them, or we did not know they were there? In many cases, when you do get in touch you are able to see the world in colors instead of in a black and white picture.
Being in jail, we are in a position where we must hide our feelings, because that is taken as a weakness. Why do we take kindness for weakness? Is it that we are trying to hide our weakness by using manipulation, being demanding and rebellious? We use manipulation as a survival skill to get what we want when we want it. Being raised on the streets, many of us learned this as a means to survive. We are able to detect a weakness, and once we find it, we will play upon it. Now that we are locked up, we are subject to use it again. When he speaks over the phone, the man may hide his true feelings. He calls his wife and tells her, “I love you.” They respond joyfully and that is when we begin to manipulate for things that we want (clothes, money, etc.). Sometimes we do not see what we are doing until after it’s done.
I would feel very stupid calling my wife and telling her what she may and may not do. Instead of calling shots, I think we should tell our wives what and how we feel, and ask for her aid; because we are going through a crisis at this moment. The plain truth is that we need them by our sides to help us deal with our time.
I think that communication plays a very important role in families, nowadays. If you are short on talk with your family wherever you are I believe you are sure to lose them. Hiding your true feelings from them makes them feel as if they’re being shut out. If you do not communicate, they will never know how you feel towards them, and they may even think you don’t love them.
What do your feelings have to do with them? Your feelings have a lot to do with your family, because you are part of their lives. A very important part, may I add. Just as you like to know what happened today, in the course of a day, when you get home from work; little do you know that they would like to know how your day went, too.
There may be many fathers lacking education. It may be hard for them to write a letter. So the only thing they have is a phone call. I believe that if they would really like to communicate with their families that much; I think the adult, as well as the adolescent fathers should get together and help each other, because they can identify with one another. So I advise you, if you cannot write too well, ask a friend to help you. But then we have the rebellious type, that feel that they are being condemned if someone offers them help. Your child hearing from you is more important than anything else in the world. Whatever means of communication there is, I am going to write, call, talk and even scream to let my family know that I love them!
What kind of responsibility did we have, as fathers, on the outside? To be honest with you, I, myself, being a father, had some kind of responsibility, but I did not take it seriously, as I should have. But many of us just made a mistake in our lives, and should have thought about our children and future instead.
When most of us were out in New York, we thought that putting food in our baby’s stomach, clothes on his or her back, or even a roof over his or her head, was enough; but in reality, it wasn’t. A child needs more than just objects in its life, and that thing it needs is love. Now you know how much your baby means to you, so imagine how much your time and love means to your baby.
In a place like this, we are able to see the many sides of various subjects. But when we were in New York, we took our freedom for granted, and look where it got us; to this terrible place with cages that were supposed to be for animals. So we must not let it get us down, because no one is accountable for actions but ourselves. Instead of wasting our time, thinking and hurting, we must do something positive. Don’t let it go to waste, because you can expand mentally from an experience like this.
What I do sometimes to alleviate the pain, is I set off to a distant land, a place that I created in my mind to think of nothing but positive thoughts. What I must remember is that I must not let any negative thoughts of any kind enter this little place in my head, because it will destroy me mentally.
If one of us is to get ten years or more, and you have a child of two years or older, imagine the attitude when you do return to her after all those years. This is not the baby that you changed his or her diapers for. This is now a young individual, who can think, talk and do for him or herself. So imagine the response when they find out you are their father; and after so many years of incarceration, you come back to provide for them. It is going to be hard for them to accept you, and for you to accept them, because first of all, who knows who? If one of us, young fathers, is facing a lot of time, I think a good idea would be to approach your child as if he or she were your friend, and after a sufficient amount of time, tell them who you really are. If they do not accept you as their father, they may be able to accept you as a very close friend. I know you will feel hurt by knowing this, but you must remember, we did this to ourselves. So let’s try and work it out to the best of our ability.
Yes, we love our children! But how much? That is the question that remains in the heart and mind of the mother as well as the child when he/she gets older and finds out that their father is locked up. So take a look at yourselves, guys, and tell me what you see. If you are given a second chance to return to the streets, I hope you now know what you must do to keep your child where you want him/her, and that is very close to your heart and by your side.
Will you be able to face your child when he/she gets older?
Streams 5
“Being a parent in the system is very hard to deal with. Many times at night I find myself lost, deep in thought, and at the same time my peers are in the same form of thinking. What we go through on the inside can tear this world apart.
Many people out there do not know how it feels to be incarcerated. Being locked away from your loved ones and not knowing when is the next time, or if, you are going to see them really hurts. It is not a matter of winning your case. It is a matter of surviving the penitentiary. There are many fights, slashings and stabbings in the system, and you never know when it will be you. You can be the type that just wants to do your time and get out, but problems still occur. Walking with eyes in back of your head and sleeping with one eye open are some of the survival skills one learns in the system. Watching your every step puts a lot of pressure on an inmate. With all this pressure, we still have to deal with the thought of losing our families.
Many of us are afraid to return to our homes and find out that our child is calling another man, ‘Dad.’ Often we entertain the negative thought of our wives leaving with the baby to be with another man, because she needs the material things in life. Sometimes she may forget that her child has a birth father, who has feelings for his child. But we must understand that it is hard to raise a child by yourself and you do need the help of your mate.
Many times in prison we see men with renewed feelings towards their family and children. Why do we get this sudden change of how we feel towards our family? I think it’s because of the environment we are in. In here our lives are being conditioned. We are told when to eat, sleep, get up and sometimes even talk. Now we are able to appreciate the smallest things in life, such as a walk through the park and even buying a piece of candy without being restricted to eat it. Here we are able to search and find our true feelings, that we thought we never had. Is it that we never had them, or we did not know they were there? In many cases, when you do get in touch you are able to see the world in colors instead of in a black and white picture.
Being in jail, we are in a position where we must hide our feelings, because that is taken as a weakness. Why do we take kindness for weakness? Is it that we are trying to hide our weakness by using manipulation, being demanding and rebellious? We use manipulation as a survival skill to get what we want when we want it. Being raised on the streets, many of us learned this as a means to survive. We are able to detect a weakness, and once we find it, we will play upon it. Now that we are locked up, we are subject to use it again. When he speaks over the phone, the man may hide his true feelings. He calls his wife and tells her, “I love you.” They respond joyfully and that is when we begin to manipulate for things that we want (clothes, money, etc.). Sometimes we do not see what we are doing until after it’s done.
I would feel very stupid calling my wife and telling her what she may and may not do. Instead of calling shots, I think we should tell our wives what and how we feel, and ask for her aid; because we are going through a crisis at this moment. The plain truth is that we need them by our sides to help us deal with our time.
I think that communication plays a very important role in families, nowadays. If you are short on talk with your family wherever you are I believe you are sure to lose them. Hiding your true feelings from them makes them feel as if they’re being shut out. If you do not communicate, they will never know how you feel towards them, and they may even think you don’t love them.
What do your feelings have to do with them? Your feelings have a lot to do with your family, because you are part of their lives. A very important part, may I add. Just as you like to know what happened today, in the course of a day, when you get home from work; little do you know that they would like to know how your day went, too.
There may be many fathers lacking education. It may be hard for them to write a letter. So the only thing they have is a phone call. I believe that if they would really like to communicate with their families that much; I think the adult, as well as the adolescent fathers should get together and help each other, because they can identify with one another. So I advise you, if you cannot write too well, ask a friend to help you. But then we have the rebellious type, that feel that they are being condemned if someone offers them help. Your child hearing from you is more important than anything else in the world. Whatever means of communication there is, I am going to write, call, talk and even scream to let my family know that I love them!
What kind of responsibility did we have, as fathers, on the outside? To be honest with you, I, myself, being a father, had some kind of responsibility, but I did not take it seriously, as I should have. But many of us just made a mistake in our lives, and should have thought about our children and future instead.
When most of us were out in New York, we thought that putting food in our baby’s stomach, clothes on his or her back, or even a roof over his or her head, was enough; but in reality, it wasn’t. A child needs more than just objects in its life, and that thing it needs is love. Now you know how much your baby means to you, so imagine how much your time and love means to your baby.
In a place like this, we are able to see the many sides of various subjects. But when we were in New York, we took our freedom for granted, and look where it got us; to this terrible place with cages that were supposed to be for animals. So we must not let it get us down, because no one is accountable for actions but ourselves. Instead of wasting our time, thinking and hurting, we must do something positive. Don’t let it go to waste, because you can expand mentally from an experience like this.
What I do sometimes to alleviate the pain, is I set off to a distant land, a place that I created in my mind to think of nothing but positive thoughts. What I must remember is that I must not let any negative thoughts of any kind enter this little place in my head, because it will destroy me mentally.
If one of us is to get ten years or more, and you have a child of two years or older, imagine the attitude when you do return to her after all those years. This is not the baby that you changed his or her diapers for. This is now a young individual, who can think, talk and do for him or herself. So imagine the response when they find out you are their father; and after so many years of incarceration, you come back to provide for them. It is going to be hard for them to accept you, and for you to accept them, because first of all, who knows who? If one of us, young fathers, is facing a lot of time, I think a good idea would be to approach your child as if he or she were your friend, and after a sufficient amount of time, tell them who you really are. If they do not accept you as their father, they may be able to accept you as a very close friend. I know you will feel hurt by knowing this, but you must remember, we did this to ourselves. So let’s try and work it out to the best of our ability.
Yes, we love our children! But how much? That is the question that remains in the heart and mind of the mother as well as the child when he/she gets older and finds out that their father is locked up. So take a look at yourselves, guys, and tell me what you see. If you are given a second chance to return to the streets, I hope you now know what you must do to keep your child where you want him/her, and that is very close to your heart and by your side.
Will you be able to face your child when he/she gets older?
Streams 5
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Renewed Feelings (Streams 5) -- part iii
We had previously published writing by teenage mothers. Streams 5 took the theme a step further. It explored the theme of role models with writing about and by teenage fathers. In her poem “A Good Father” (p.44) directed at young fathers, Keesha expressed her feelings:
I think a good father should be made up of many aspects.
He should be like a recipe: 100 oz. of Love
Love should be like feelings. When the baby is hurting it should hurt you.
When he is happy you should be happy.
You should be able to understand most of his feelings.
You should enjoy things like a first step.
Love includes all of the other aspects of the recipe: 100 oz. of Understanding
Understanding when the baby does bad things.
You should understand instead of wanting to throw the baby down or beat him. Understanding is knowing the baby cannot do what you want him or her to do.
He can only do what he knows from instinct.
100 oz. of Time
Time should be spent with the baby as much as possible.
Spend enough time with the baby so the baby knows who the father is;
and also knows the father loves the baby.
You shouldn’t just come around when you feel like it.
100 oz. of Support
Support should be helping out; helping with pampers, milk and clothes;
helping out with things like baths and washing hair.
Moral support is also good because it encourages a child.
A great father should love his child as much as possible...
even more than he loves himself or just as much.
This is because the baby is here; so it is the father’s job to love it.
There is no such thing as a perfect father. But so far I am lucky.
My baby’s father does as much as he can, whenever he can.
There is nothing more I can ask for.
Though, Roy doesn’t see himself as a role model, his narrative, “My Experience as a Teenage Father” (p.52) expressed the difficulties he encountered grappling with responsibilities:
What is it like to become a father when you are a teenager? That question never troubled me, until I was 16 and my girlfriend told me she was pregnant. A lot of things flashed through my head, like I am a child myself. Can I take the responsibilities that lay ahead of me? When I got over the shock that I was going to become a father, I thought of the fun that I would have to miss, like not playing basketball with my friends in the park or going to parties on the weekend. But I also thought of the fun I would have raising my own child, like going for a walk in the park on Sunday.
Still, the worst part was telling my parents that I was going to become a father. I thought my mother was going to kill me, because she always taught me to have safe sex and talked about the use of a condom. Well, they didn’t take it as bad as I thought they would. My mother sat down with me and my girlfriend, T, to talk about OUR “responsibilities” together. She said (I quote her words), “You two made it together, and you two take care of it together.” Me, my dad and T’s father had a good talk about my future, the baby’s future and T’s future. My girlfriend’s mother lightened up a lot after four months into her being pregnant.
The problem that I had was that, instead of having a job, I was dealing drugs. Me and T talked about selling drugs. She asked me to stop once the baby was born. I told her I would. As time went on, I started to make mo’, mo’, mo’ money, and I could not stop, because I had a type of attitude about wanting my child to have everything that I didn’t have when I was a kid. Anyway, the baby was not born, yet. I was saving money like crazy now and buying my girlfriend maternity clothes. As the months went by, I was getting more anxious about the baby.
Now it was November 23, 1978. The day started as usual. I went downstairs to work out in the basement of my house. Then the phone rang. It was my mother telling me to come pick up something she had just bought. So I went to pick up the package. As I was leaving my mother’s job, my beeper started to beep. I looked at the number. It was my girlfriend, T. She was always beeping me, so I didn’t have to respond to the number at first. Then she beeped me again. This time I answered her call. When she picked up the phone she cried that she was in pain. She said to me, “It’s time to have the baby.” I panicked, then got hold of myself. Then I drove to her house. She was sitting downstairs, crying in pain. I told her to take a deep breath, so she would calm down.
On the way to the hospital, I was scared that she was going to have the baby in the car. We finally reached the hospital. I didn’t know what to do first. I got her a wheelchair. I pushed her into the emergency room. Then I told the doctor she was having a baby. He said, “I can see that.” He looked at me funny, and I looked at myself and realized that I was still in my workout shorts and tank top. I cleaned up, so I could go in the delivery room with her. Four hours later, my son, Anthony, was born.
I wrote this on November 20, 1990, in Rikers Island Correctional Facility; three days before my son’s birthday. This is the first birthday that I’m going to miss and hopefully my last one. I feel really f***ed up that I’m not going to be there on his third birthday on this earth. (The day that I got arrested, my girlfriend told me not to go to the spot, but I went anyway. To this day I think that if I would have listened to her, I would be home today).
I feel that this is my last time in jail, because I want to make a good example for my son. I don’t want him in a place like this, or to go through what I have experienced.
Streams 5
I think a good father should be made up of many aspects.
He should be like a recipe: 100 oz. of Love
Love should be like feelings. When the baby is hurting it should hurt you.
When he is happy you should be happy.
You should be able to understand most of his feelings.
You should enjoy things like a first step.
Love includes all of the other aspects of the recipe: 100 oz. of Understanding
Understanding when the baby does bad things.
You should understand instead of wanting to throw the baby down or beat him. Understanding is knowing the baby cannot do what you want him or her to do.
He can only do what he knows from instinct.
100 oz. of Time
Time should be spent with the baby as much as possible.
Spend enough time with the baby so the baby knows who the father is;
and also knows the father loves the baby.
You shouldn’t just come around when you feel like it.
100 oz. of Support
Support should be helping out; helping with pampers, milk and clothes;
helping out with things like baths and washing hair.
Moral support is also good because it encourages a child.
A great father should love his child as much as possible...
even more than he loves himself or just as much.
This is because the baby is here; so it is the father’s job to love it.
There is no such thing as a perfect father. But so far I am lucky.
My baby’s father does as much as he can, whenever he can.
There is nothing more I can ask for.
Though, Roy doesn’t see himself as a role model, his narrative, “My Experience as a Teenage Father” (p.52) expressed the difficulties he encountered grappling with responsibilities:
What is it like to become a father when you are a teenager? That question never troubled me, until I was 16 and my girlfriend told me she was pregnant. A lot of things flashed through my head, like I am a child myself. Can I take the responsibilities that lay ahead of me? When I got over the shock that I was going to become a father, I thought of the fun that I would have to miss, like not playing basketball with my friends in the park or going to parties on the weekend. But I also thought of the fun I would have raising my own child, like going for a walk in the park on Sunday.
Still, the worst part was telling my parents that I was going to become a father. I thought my mother was going to kill me, because she always taught me to have safe sex and talked about the use of a condom. Well, they didn’t take it as bad as I thought they would. My mother sat down with me and my girlfriend, T, to talk about OUR “responsibilities” together. She said (I quote her words), “You two made it together, and you two take care of it together.” Me, my dad and T’s father had a good talk about my future, the baby’s future and T’s future. My girlfriend’s mother lightened up a lot after four months into her being pregnant.
The problem that I had was that, instead of having a job, I was dealing drugs. Me and T talked about selling drugs. She asked me to stop once the baby was born. I told her I would. As time went on, I started to make mo’, mo’, mo’ money, and I could not stop, because I had a type of attitude about wanting my child to have everything that I didn’t have when I was a kid. Anyway, the baby was not born, yet. I was saving money like crazy now and buying my girlfriend maternity clothes. As the months went by, I was getting more anxious about the baby.
Now it was November 23, 1978. The day started as usual. I went downstairs to work out in the basement of my house. Then the phone rang. It was my mother telling me to come pick up something she had just bought. So I went to pick up the package. As I was leaving my mother’s job, my beeper started to beep. I looked at the number. It was my girlfriend, T. She was always beeping me, so I didn’t have to respond to the number at first. Then she beeped me again. This time I answered her call. When she picked up the phone she cried that she was in pain. She said to me, “It’s time to have the baby.” I panicked, then got hold of myself. Then I drove to her house. She was sitting downstairs, crying in pain. I told her to take a deep breath, so she would calm down.
On the way to the hospital, I was scared that she was going to have the baby in the car. We finally reached the hospital. I didn’t know what to do first. I got her a wheelchair. I pushed her into the emergency room. Then I told the doctor she was having a baby. He said, “I can see that.” He looked at me funny, and I looked at myself and realized that I was still in my workout shorts and tank top. I cleaned up, so I could go in the delivery room with her. Four hours later, my son, Anthony, was born.
I wrote this on November 20, 1990, in Rikers Island Correctional Facility; three days before my son’s birthday. This is the first birthday that I’m going to miss and hopefully my last one. I feel really f***ed up that I’m not going to be there on his third birthday on this earth. (The day that I got arrested, my girlfriend told me not to go to the spot, but I went anyway. To this day I think that if I would have listened to her, I would be home today).
I feel that this is my last time in jail, because I want to make a good example for my son. I don’t want him in a place like this, or to go through what I have experienced.
Streams 5
Monday, January 24, 2011
Renewed Feelings (Streams 5) -- part ii
The Streams anthologies were used in classrooms where teachers were encouraging students to write by emphasizing the relevancy of books. In the Spring of 1991, Lucy Kuemmerle, a reading teacher, wrote “What Do Kids Like to Read” for Options: the newsletter for the office of Alternative High Schools and Programs. In her article she stated, “I would never insist that a kid like something because I chose it; they are encouraged to say what they like and what they don’t like -- and why.” She added:
One more important thing which kids love; they love anything written by other kids. They pay a lot of attention to each other’s writing. The best source of student writing is Streams (already up to four volumes), published by the Waterways Project. Copies of Streams vanish as fast as I get them in the classroom. Filled with stories, poems, letters by teenagers, they speak with absolute authority and immediacy to all other teenagers. They feel they could have written each piece; they are often freed by this strong identification to start writing themselves, and to be struck by discovering that they, too, have a voice.
The correspondence section of Streams 5 was followed by Denise B.’s poem, “Love”:
To build upon love,
you need a foundation.
So let’s start now,
with a little communication.
Rudy Rodriguez was recommended to Waterways by Jerry Long, the Assistant Principal for Curriculum Development at Auxiliary Services for High Schools (ASHS). Rudy was a paraprofessional at ASHS who had attended the Roberto Clemente Center in the South Bronx. He visited other ASHS programs around the city to encourage writing. Because of his enthusiasm, more teachers were willing to use Streams in the classroom.
ASHS students returned to class to take the GED test for a high school diploma. Although the classes focussed entirely on test preparation, many students wanted more from a school. Passing the test was not an end in itself. The diploma would not guarantee a job, but by returning to school, the ASHS students served as role models. This was expressed in Streams 5:
My Brother by Robert W.
“...My brother is sometimes a pain in the neck; and sometimes he’s not. I used to think that I hated him so much; but now I realize that he’s just a kid and that little brothers are always a pain when they’re little. I also realize that I’m his big brother and I have to be an example for him. If I show him that the things he does are not right, maybe he will not keep on the way he is.
He always says he wants to be like me. He wants to quit school like I did. He wants to start smoking like I did. I want to show him that if he quits school he will not be able to work in a good job. In other words, he can’t do much without a high school diploma.
I had to find out the hard way. When I quit school, I was working and I thought I had it made. I was making about $120 a week, nine hours a day, six days a week. I realized later on that I was not really making good money; and that I never could survive in the outside world.
Now I’m back in school to get my high school diploma, so I can get a good job; so when I have a family, I can support them. When I do get my diploma it will not be the same as going to school for four years, but at least I’m showing my brother how hard it is to survive in the real world...”
and how relevant books are.
Streams 5
One more important thing which kids love; they love anything written by other kids. They pay a lot of attention to each other’s writing. The best source of student writing is Streams (already up to four volumes), published by the Waterways Project. Copies of Streams vanish as fast as I get them in the classroom. Filled with stories, poems, letters by teenagers, they speak with absolute authority and immediacy to all other teenagers. They feel they could have written each piece; they are often freed by this strong identification to start writing themselves, and to be struck by discovering that they, too, have a voice.
The correspondence section of Streams 5 was followed by Denise B.’s poem, “Love”:
To build upon love,
you need a foundation.
So let’s start now,
with a little communication.
Rudy Rodriguez was recommended to Waterways by Jerry Long, the Assistant Principal for Curriculum Development at Auxiliary Services for High Schools (ASHS). Rudy was a paraprofessional at ASHS who had attended the Roberto Clemente Center in the South Bronx. He visited other ASHS programs around the city to encourage writing. Because of his enthusiasm, more teachers were willing to use Streams in the classroom.
ASHS students returned to class to take the GED test for a high school diploma. Although the classes focussed entirely on test preparation, many students wanted more from a school. Passing the test was not an end in itself. The diploma would not guarantee a job, but by returning to school, the ASHS students served as role models. This was expressed in Streams 5:
My Brother by Robert W.
“...My brother is sometimes a pain in the neck; and sometimes he’s not. I used to think that I hated him so much; but now I realize that he’s just a kid and that little brothers are always a pain when they’re little. I also realize that I’m his big brother and I have to be an example for him. If I show him that the things he does are not right, maybe he will not keep on the way he is.
He always says he wants to be like me. He wants to quit school like I did. He wants to start smoking like I did. I want to show him that if he quits school he will not be able to work in a good job. In other words, he can’t do much without a high school diploma.
I had to find out the hard way. When I quit school, I was working and I thought I had it made. I was making about $120 a week, nine hours a day, six days a week. I realized later on that I was not really making good money; and that I never could survive in the outside world.
Now I’m back in school to get my high school diploma, so I can get a good job; so when I have a family, I can support them. When I do get my diploma it will not be the same as going to school for four years, but at least I’m showing my brother how hard it is to survive in the real world...”
and how relevant books are.
Streams 5
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Renewed Feelings (Streams 5) -- part i
Streams was intentionally changing the character of the usual high school creative writing anthology. Instead of declaring the writing to be the best of the brightest, we were publishing a representative sample from the alternative high school sites Waterways visited. During the course of the year I motivated as many students as I could reach to attempt as much writing as possible. The material was first published by Barbara and me in photocopied site based magazines. By mid-February, we would begin to choose material from each site for the annual anthology based upon feedback from colleagues and students. As editors we were consciously developing a format that would help teachers present the writing to future classes.
Waterways was given the opportunity to mold a literature for a generation of New York City alternative high school students. Previous generation of at risk students had been given the option of leaving school. We were part of an effort to reach out to such students and encourage them to stay in school in the hope they would earn a diploma.
Not all students see education as the key to their success. They have to be convinced that reading and writing matters. We hope such skeptical students would find Streams relevant and want to own books written by peers. Our program published writing by students the traditional schools turned away. The impoverished, the school phobic, the rebellious, the sick, and the learning disabled, whose voices uttered the small cries of the human heart.
On the front cover of Streams 5 were two drawings -- one of a young adult and one of a child. The young adult is seen in silhouette wearing a heavy gold chain and carrying a Gucci jacket over his shoulder. The child, wearing earrings, a bracelet, and rings, is lacing up a sneaker, way too large for him. He’s trying to fill the shoes of his older brother.
The anthology began with a computer based correspondence between students who were attending classes provided in rehab programs by Offsite Educational Services (OES). The students wrote on Commodore 128 computers and saved their files to five inch floppy disks. Carolyn Green, the Waterways teacher, carried the discs to other OES sites:
Dear Pen Pal,
Hi, my name is Muneca. I am 20 years old and my height is 5’”. I am 125 pounds with green eyes, light brown with blonde hair...
Muneca received a response:
Hello Muneca,
My name is Trick Daddy. I am 18 years of age. I am six feet four inches tall; with dark brown eyes and naturally curly hair. No jerrycurl juice. I look Puerto Rican but I’m not...
Sticking out the program was a fundamental challenge to the students in all the rehabs. Muneca wrote back:
Hello, pen pal. I hope that you are all right and hanging in there. I say this because I heard that you and your friend were going through some changes. I hope that you hang in there, because leaving is not the move anymore. Staying and sticking it out means that you are very strong and able to deal with your problems.
In the next letter, Trick Daddy, shared some personal history:
I have a six month old son, but I’m not with the baby’s mother. Why? We don’t seem to get along any more, but I still see my son!!! By the way, my son looks just like his daddy; light skin, six feet four inches tall (just kidding!). But he’s handsome like me! Let me stop.
Muneca stopped writing for a few weeks. She was barred from writing by the rehab program. She finally explained to her pen pal that “I can’t write because I condoned my ‘supposed to be’ friend’s guilt; and a little of mine.”
Trick Daddy was supportive:
“...I know the situation you are going to be dealing with. I know what your state of mind must be like right now! But you got to be strong, as you encouraged me to do. I know you’re on a learning experience, but you wanna know something? It still doesn’t change how I feel about you, or how I look at you!! Please! Don’t feel guilty about the situation, because it happened to me before when I was in daytop’s upstate treatment. It will only make you a stronger woman. Notice I said that you are a woman; because you are gonna stick this out, right? I have confidence in your abilities, too! As a person once said to me, An obstacle is not the end. It’s a new beginning.”
That correspondence ended abruptly when she left the program. In the following correspondence between 18 year old Charles and 15 year old Missy, Charles wrote:
“I do have a son, who turned six months old a couple of weeks ago. But me and my baby’s mother are no longer together. Why? Because she lies about the little things like bringing my son over to see his father. I only associate with her to see my son. She had her chance to bury the hatchet! But I still respect her as I would any woman.”
Missy responded:
“I can understand where you are coming from with your baby’s mother. I used to be with a guy who was (and still is) a pathological liar. At least you aren’t just a slam bam, thank you ma’am type of guy. I like a guy who takes care of his. I know so many girls who got pregnant and the guys left them out there cold.”
Their correspondence continued through the Christmas. Charles wrote:
“My counselors expect me to do about 18 months or better!?! What I’m saying to myself is -- they got to be out of their cotton pickin’ minds!! I can’t see myself being here all that time!?! In fact, sometimes I feel like leaving! A lot of times I feel like leaving! But knowing that I’ll get a letter from you; it keeps me here.”
Streams 5
Waterways was given the opportunity to mold a literature for a generation of New York City alternative high school students. Previous generation of at risk students had been given the option of leaving school. We were part of an effort to reach out to such students and encourage them to stay in school in the hope they would earn a diploma.
Not all students see education as the key to their success. They have to be convinced that reading and writing matters. We hope such skeptical students would find Streams relevant and want to own books written by peers. Our program published writing by students the traditional schools turned away. The impoverished, the school phobic, the rebellious, the sick, and the learning disabled, whose voices uttered the small cries of the human heart.
On the front cover of Streams 5 were two drawings -- one of a young adult and one of a child. The young adult is seen in silhouette wearing a heavy gold chain and carrying a Gucci jacket over his shoulder. The child, wearing earrings, a bracelet, and rings, is lacing up a sneaker, way too large for him. He’s trying to fill the shoes of his older brother.
The anthology began with a computer based correspondence between students who were attending classes provided in rehab programs by Offsite Educational Services (OES). The students wrote on Commodore 128 computers and saved their files to five inch floppy disks. Carolyn Green, the Waterways teacher, carried the discs to other OES sites:
Dear Pen Pal,
Hi, my name is Muneca. I am 20 years old and my height is 5’”. I am 125 pounds with green eyes, light brown with blonde hair...
Muneca received a response:
Hello Muneca,
My name is Trick Daddy. I am 18 years of age. I am six feet four inches tall; with dark brown eyes and naturally curly hair. No jerrycurl juice. I look Puerto Rican but I’m not...
Sticking out the program was a fundamental challenge to the students in all the rehabs. Muneca wrote back:
Hello, pen pal. I hope that you are all right and hanging in there. I say this because I heard that you and your friend were going through some changes. I hope that you hang in there, because leaving is not the move anymore. Staying and sticking it out means that you are very strong and able to deal with your problems.
In the next letter, Trick Daddy, shared some personal history:
I have a six month old son, but I’m not with the baby’s mother. Why? We don’t seem to get along any more, but I still see my son!!! By the way, my son looks just like his daddy; light skin, six feet four inches tall (just kidding!). But he’s handsome like me! Let me stop.
Muneca stopped writing for a few weeks. She was barred from writing by the rehab program. She finally explained to her pen pal that “I can’t write because I condoned my ‘supposed to be’ friend’s guilt; and a little of mine.”
Trick Daddy was supportive:
“...I know the situation you are going to be dealing with. I know what your state of mind must be like right now! But you got to be strong, as you encouraged me to do. I know you’re on a learning experience, but you wanna know something? It still doesn’t change how I feel about you, or how I look at you!! Please! Don’t feel guilty about the situation, because it happened to me before when I was in daytop’s upstate treatment. It will only make you a stronger woman. Notice I said that you are a woman; because you are gonna stick this out, right? I have confidence in your abilities, too! As a person once said to me, An obstacle is not the end. It’s a new beginning.”
That correspondence ended abruptly when she left the program. In the following correspondence between 18 year old Charles and 15 year old Missy, Charles wrote:
“I do have a son, who turned six months old a couple of weeks ago. But me and my baby’s mother are no longer together. Why? Because she lies about the little things like bringing my son over to see his father. I only associate with her to see my son. She had her chance to bury the hatchet! But I still respect her as I would any woman.”
Missy responded:
“I can understand where you are coming from with your baby’s mother. I used to be with a guy who was (and still is) a pathological liar. At least you aren’t just a slam bam, thank you ma’am type of guy. I like a guy who takes care of his. I know so many girls who got pregnant and the guys left them out there cold.”
Their correspondence continued through the Christmas. Charles wrote:
“My counselors expect me to do about 18 months or better!?! What I’m saying to myself is -- they got to be out of their cotton pickin’ minds!! I can’t see myself being here all that time!?! In fact, sometimes I feel like leaving! A lot of times I feel like leaving! But knowing that I’ll get a letter from you; it keeps me here.”
Streams 5
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Martin Luther King Jr: Service Learning, Change and Poetry
When Martin Luther King was assassinated, the school year began with teachers on strike in New York City and Senator Eugene McCarthy challenging a sitting president; it ended with the deaths of Dr. King and Senator Robert Kennedy. I was working with an after school program in New York City’s South Jamaica Houses, and accepted an invitation to become a Peace Corp Volunteer teaching high school in Buchanan, Liberia, West Africa.
Twenty years later, in 1988, the Martin Luther King, Jr. Institute for Nonviolence, a state agency lead by Harry Belafonte under Governor Mario Cuomo, presented workshops throughout New York. The Waterways Project of Ten Penny Players hosted a series of these workshops at Liberty High School on West 18th Street in Manhattan. We also sponsored additional workshops down the street at the offices of the Superintendent of Alternative High Schools and Programs located in the Bayard Rustin High School for the Humanities. The workshop leaders, who had worked with Dr. King in the sixties, explained how he acted as a catalyst to cause change in the communities he visited.
Too often education becomes a game for winners and losers. Tests award and fail students. But our society can accomodate all its members and find merit in each if teachers would pause to listen and respond to their students (who would learn to write better because their teachers were reading and responding to the student writing). We wanted to enable communication, a rare thing. The Waterways teachers who visited school sites thus also acted as catalysts by publishing students’ expressive writing and poetry that resulted from the classroom discussions and reflections of all students.
Administrators at the superintendency of New York City’s alternative high schools asked us to develop a service learning component for one of its programs, New York City Vocational Training Center (VTC). VTC had grown from a cohort of industries, hospitals, nursing homes, and unions that provided internships at their own locations for vocational and special education students aging out of the school system. VTC provided an academic component at each site for its students. The cooperating agencies facilitated job coached hands on training for the VTC students at their locations. Through the work of the licensed academic and vocational teachers and the mentors at the cohort of cooperating businesses, students were helped to gain a GED, IEP or High School diploma while at the same time learning job related skills that would help them gain employment after leaving VTC.
Ten Penny Players’ writing and peer publishing curriculum enabled all participating students to share their reflections through the expressive writing that we published . Regularly scheduled ‘reflection’ is an important component of Service Learning. VTC and all the Alternative schools and programs already practiced ‘reflection’ only it was called Family Group. In this regularly scheduled practice students reflected on their activities and the challenges faced daily in the work site or at home. Because reflection was already part of the VTC program we were able to acknowledge it as both an accepted Family Group practice and as a Service Learning component. What was familiar, also was new, and therefore possible to develop into a formal Service Learning curriculum that met both Department of Education and the Governor’s Service Learning criteria and standards and didn’t cause formal grievance from the teacher’s union, parents or students. A win win for everyone including Ten Penny Players as it enabled the students to write and be published as part of our program.
--by R. Spiegel & B. Fisher
Learn and Serve 2001 Celebration
http://www.scribd.com/collections/2665044/Service-Learning-Curriculum
Twenty years later, in 1988, the Martin Luther King, Jr. Institute for Nonviolence, a state agency lead by Harry Belafonte under Governor Mario Cuomo, presented workshops throughout New York. The Waterways Project of Ten Penny Players hosted a series of these workshops at Liberty High School on West 18th Street in Manhattan. We also sponsored additional workshops down the street at the offices of the Superintendent of Alternative High Schools and Programs located in the Bayard Rustin High School for the Humanities. The workshop leaders, who had worked with Dr. King in the sixties, explained how he acted as a catalyst to cause change in the communities he visited.
Too often education becomes a game for winners and losers. Tests award and fail students. But our society can accomodate all its members and find merit in each if teachers would pause to listen and respond to their students (who would learn to write better because their teachers were reading and responding to the student writing). We wanted to enable communication, a rare thing. The Waterways teachers who visited school sites thus also acted as catalysts by publishing students’ expressive writing and poetry that resulted from the classroom discussions and reflections of all students.
Administrators at the superintendency of New York City’s alternative high schools asked us to develop a service learning component for one of its programs, New York City Vocational Training Center (VTC). VTC had grown from a cohort of industries, hospitals, nursing homes, and unions that provided internships at their own locations for vocational and special education students aging out of the school system. VTC provided an academic component at each site for its students. The cooperating agencies facilitated job coached hands on training for the VTC students at their locations. Through the work of the licensed academic and vocational teachers and the mentors at the cohort of cooperating businesses, students were helped to gain a GED, IEP or High School diploma while at the same time learning job related skills that would help them gain employment after leaving VTC.
Ten Penny Players’ writing and peer publishing curriculum enabled all participating students to share their reflections through the expressive writing that we published . Regularly scheduled ‘reflection’ is an important component of Service Learning. VTC and all the Alternative schools and programs already practiced ‘reflection’ only it was called Family Group. In this regularly scheduled practice students reflected on their activities and the challenges faced daily in the work site or at home. Because reflection was already part of the VTC program we were able to acknowledge it as both an accepted Family Group practice and as a Service Learning component. What was familiar, also was new, and therefore possible to develop into a formal Service Learning curriculum that met both Department of Education and the Governor’s Service Learning criteria and standards and didn’t cause formal grievance from the teacher’s union, parents or students. A win win for everyone including Ten Penny Players as it enabled the students to write and be published as part of our program.
--by R. Spiegel & B. Fisher
Learn and Serve 2001 Celebration
http://www.scribd.com/collections/2665044/Service-Learning-Curriculum
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Revealing Thoughts and Ideas
Alternative high schools provided a safety net for adolescents tripping on the high wires of institutional education. Staten Island’s largest alternative high school, Concord, was notably represented in Streams 4. The publication opened with Candice’s “What Freedom of Speech Means to Me,”
Freedom of speech is
really the freedom of expression,
to completely be
what you want to be.
In 1990, there were fourteen interns courtesy of City as School. A student who came to alternative schools after attending Hunter College High School, used her internship with Waterways to design and print her own chapbook, which she titled, “May I See Your Poetic License, Please?” Her “Poem of Exquisite Beauty” began:
A thought:
a feeling
escapes
in a blast of pure
golden light.
Waterways offered the experience of publishing their expressive writing to all students. We created a student centered literature -- poems written by peers that we hoped would motivate more reading, critiquing, and a deeper involvement in all literature.
The Waterways teaching artists included Barbara Fisher, Carolyn Green, Alison Koffler, Linda Notovitz, Margo Mack, Mel Cohen, Ruth Wangerin, Ronald G. King, Matthew Hejna-Luque, Zoë Anglesey, Andrea Temple, Denrick Wharton, Beth Ayres, and myself. The many participating school faculty, teachers at the sites, included Paul Allison, William Almedena, Paul Auerbach, John Brathwaite, Gloria Claros, Alicia Clifford, Roger Cox, Phillip Curley, Ulises Diaz-Caolo, Neil Ende, Al Ernest, Pat Fahey, Jill Fowler-Feldman, Herb Goldberg, Ray Goldfeder, Frank Grabinsky, Nancy Hope Lowens Iscaro, Jane Kreinik, Builder Levy, Henry Lyons, Diane Mechanic, John Murray, Janet Nicodemas, Richard Nisa, Diego Rios, Pat Ryan, Raul Seda, Ron Smolkin, Peter Spiro, Vasso Thomas, Geneva Vera, Brenda Watts, Kim Yarrell and Barbara Youngman. More names are on the acknowledgements page of Streams 4.
After “What Freedom of Speech Means to Me,” Streams 4 continued with Michelle’s poem, “Make That Stand” (p.3):
Why can’t we work together
to make things better?
Why can’t we join hand in hand
and make that stand
so we can live in a better land?
Let’s stand up for our rights
whether black or white.
That was followed by a collaboration between Dennis and Erica that addressed prejudice (p.4):
The word hate
is a very challenging word for minorities.
They grow up
in a world full of anger and frustration.
Forty seven different sites participated in the publications that led up to the anthology. One site with which we were to become further involved was the Frederick Douglass Literacy Center set up by Lois Rekosh through the Outreach Program in the old Boys High on Marcy Avenue. Many literacy students were forced out of local public high schools that did not want them on register, because of low skills that would bring down the entire school’s grade point average. Some literacy students were reading on first grade level. Many were learning disabled, but had never been tested. There were children, whose mothers who had left them to work as nannies in New York City.
Phoenix Academy, another early participant in our program, was in a monastery in Westchester. Its register was filled with New York City students put the students into an alternative environment, away from the mean streets of the city. Many came as alternatives to incarceration.
A poem about power came from an upstate New York school after statewide alternative conferences in the Catskills brought together alternative programs:
Power by Norman (p.5)
If I had power, the power of weather,
I would use it to bring nuclear countries
to their knees.
I would pelt them with hail,
and blow winds for days,
make them beg and plead.
Countries stricken by famine
I would rain for them.
Continents frozen by cold,
I would shine for them.
We published Claudia’s poem in Spanish:
La Guitarra Vieja
Tirada en un rincón de una vieja pared,
abandonada, triste, sola y desconsolada,
te encontre en una tarde de primavera.
Sound of the Library by Patrick C. came from a Waterways workshop in the New York Public Library:
Books are on the shelves. Dust is on
the old books that no one picks up.
People’s pencils are scribbling
so they remember what they are reading;
and that’s the sound of the library.
The student pen pal letters remained a popular feature of the anthology. Lourdes, a student at West Side High School, wrote to Rodney, an incarcerated student hoping to get his life together. The correspondence was played out in public through the publications, visible to peers, teachers, parents, and school support personnel.
The following correspondence started because Mel Cohen, a teacher working in my school, asked me if I wanted to have a pen pal on Rikers Island. I said it was okay, so we started writing. Lourdes
March 14, 1989
Dear Lourdes,
I’m gad to have received our letter. I’m doing good so far, but I could be better. I still haven’t heard about the result of the GED test, but I hope I passed it. I’m glad you like my writing. There really isn’t much to do but write and enjoy it.
Well, I’m in here for drug selling. I thought that I could make fast money without getting caught, but now I know better. It was a mistake that I made and I’m going to try to make up for all the time I’ve lost in here.
I’m not the type of guy that has been in and out of jail. This is my first time incarcerated and my last. I don’t expect a girl to wait for me, but if she really cares it would be nice.
The future is a very scary and confusing thought. It brings with it many questions that can’t be answered like: What will I be like?
Will I survive doing the right thing? Well, anyway I’ll talk to you later.
LOURDES
She was once never heard of or given a thought
A stranger to me not yet known.
Was it by accident or maybe just fate
two people revealing thoughts and ideas,
once strangers, now they are friends
She makes me forget all the trouble I’ve had
I unleashed my sorrow and fear,
she gave me warmth care and understanding.
We’ve become good friends
with a lot on our minds,
I hope she still writes me
when I’ve done my time.
Rodney
March 15, 1989
Dear Rodney,
Hi, how are you today? I am glad that you are determined to do the right thing. If you keep up thinking thinking that way you will really go places.
I am feeling very bad today. I am going through some problems this week and I feel like just going away and saying the hell with everyone, but I can’t do that, so I’m going to have to do something else to help myself. I’ll get over it I think that my cold is the main reason for my bad mood, but they’re both my problem.
HEY KID, YOU’RE GETTING OUT! You should be happy. Forget about being scared. You’ve got to think about starting over and doing the right thing, and you’ll be ok. Take my word for it!!! IF NOT, YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE PROBLEMS WITH ME.
Rodney, you seem like a nice, sweet, and warm person, who made a mistake and who is getting his at together and who wont be back to Rikers. Right, Rodney?!
Sincerely,
Lourdes
PS I REALLY LIKE THE POEM YOU WROTE TO ME.
Responses between Rodney and I are now by phone. Rodney got out of Rikers Island on March 23, 1989. We saw each other on Easter, and we’ve become friends.
Right now, Rodney is visiting relatives, and he’s looking for a job. We talk, maybe twice a week. I’ve written him a letter and given him my home address, so maybe we’ll start writing again.
In 1990 the Howard Beach killing and the assault on the Central Park Jogger had repercussions throughout the city. There were 2 essays:
in “Let’s Stop Racism” Nathan W. wrote,
Who’s to blame?
That is the question asked when racism comes up. Today as I look back and reflect on racism, everyone is pointing the finger at each other. No one is taking a look at what part they played in the incident.
A situation that troubles me the most is that we see racism invading all areas of our life. We find racism in politics. The mayoral fight has turned into what race is more dominant rather than what each candidate can do as our mayor.
and in “Race Relations” William wrote,
All of these things get me upset. Don’t people get tired of having to deal with these issues? I don’t think it’s fair at all how the media takes these issues out of context. The neighborhoods have nothing to do with what goes on inside of them. It’s the residents and how they go about raising their children. If they allow their children to interact with friends of a different race this will allow their kids to get to know a person for who they are, not push them away because of the color of their skin.
The concluding poems in Streams 4 were by Doreena from Concord High School. In “Remember When...” she wrote:
“Remember how you felt when you just knew you were the only freshman who had the jitters, then you saw that all the other freshmen were nervous too.”1
That was followed by Who Are We?:
We are loving,
We are sensitive
And we’ve only just begun,
We are funny, unique and different,
But somehow we are one.
She concluded her poem, We Are, with the lines:
We are the strength this nation needs,
Upon our wisdom, others will feed.
We are sound of body and soul,
We shall go forth and take control.
Streams 4
Freedom of speech is
really the freedom of expression,
to completely be
what you want to be.
In 1990, there were fourteen interns courtesy of City as School. A student who came to alternative schools after attending Hunter College High School, used her internship with Waterways to design and print her own chapbook, which she titled, “May I See Your Poetic License, Please?” Her “Poem of Exquisite Beauty” began:
A thought:
a feeling
escapes
in a blast of pure
golden light.
Waterways offered the experience of publishing their expressive writing to all students. We created a student centered literature -- poems written by peers that we hoped would motivate more reading, critiquing, and a deeper involvement in all literature.
The Waterways teaching artists included Barbara Fisher, Carolyn Green, Alison Koffler, Linda Notovitz, Margo Mack, Mel Cohen, Ruth Wangerin, Ronald G. King, Matthew Hejna-Luque, Zoë Anglesey, Andrea Temple, Denrick Wharton, Beth Ayres, and myself. The many participating school faculty, teachers at the sites, included Paul Allison, William Almedena, Paul Auerbach, John Brathwaite, Gloria Claros, Alicia Clifford, Roger Cox, Phillip Curley, Ulises Diaz-Caolo, Neil Ende, Al Ernest, Pat Fahey, Jill Fowler-Feldman, Herb Goldberg, Ray Goldfeder, Frank Grabinsky, Nancy Hope Lowens Iscaro, Jane Kreinik, Builder Levy, Henry Lyons, Diane Mechanic, John Murray, Janet Nicodemas, Richard Nisa, Diego Rios, Pat Ryan, Raul Seda, Ron Smolkin, Peter Spiro, Vasso Thomas, Geneva Vera, Brenda Watts, Kim Yarrell and Barbara Youngman. More names are on the acknowledgements page of Streams 4.
After “What Freedom of Speech Means to Me,” Streams 4 continued with Michelle’s poem, “Make That Stand” (p.3):
Why can’t we work together
to make things better?
Why can’t we join hand in hand
and make that stand
so we can live in a better land?
Let’s stand up for our rights
whether black or white.
That was followed by a collaboration between Dennis and Erica that addressed prejudice (p.4):
The word hate
is a very challenging word for minorities.
They grow up
in a world full of anger and frustration.
Forty seven different sites participated in the publications that led up to the anthology. One site with which we were to become further involved was the Frederick Douglass Literacy Center set up by Lois Rekosh through the Outreach Program in the old Boys High on Marcy Avenue. Many literacy students were forced out of local public high schools that did not want them on register, because of low skills that would bring down the entire school’s grade point average. Some literacy students were reading on first grade level. Many were learning disabled, but had never been tested. There were children, whose mothers who had left them to work as nannies in New York City.
Phoenix Academy, another early participant in our program, was in a monastery in Westchester. Its register was filled with New York City students put the students into an alternative environment, away from the mean streets of the city. Many came as alternatives to incarceration.
A poem about power came from an upstate New York school after statewide alternative conferences in the Catskills brought together alternative programs:
Power by Norman (p.5)
If I had power, the power of weather,
I would use it to bring nuclear countries
to their knees.
I would pelt them with hail,
and blow winds for days,
make them beg and plead.
Countries stricken by famine
I would rain for them.
Continents frozen by cold,
I would shine for them.
We published Claudia’s poem in Spanish:
La Guitarra Vieja
Tirada en un rincón de una vieja pared,
abandonada, triste, sola y desconsolada,
te encontre en una tarde de primavera.
Sound of the Library by Patrick C. came from a Waterways workshop in the New York Public Library:
Books are on the shelves. Dust is on
the old books that no one picks up.
People’s pencils are scribbling
so they remember what they are reading;
and that’s the sound of the library.
The student pen pal letters remained a popular feature of the anthology. Lourdes, a student at West Side High School, wrote to Rodney, an incarcerated student hoping to get his life together. The correspondence was played out in public through the publications, visible to peers, teachers, parents, and school support personnel.
The following correspondence started because Mel Cohen, a teacher working in my school, asked me if I wanted to have a pen pal on Rikers Island. I said it was okay, so we started writing. Lourdes
March 14, 1989
Dear Lourdes,
I’m gad to have received our letter. I’m doing good so far, but I could be better. I still haven’t heard about the result of the GED test, but I hope I passed it. I’m glad you like my writing. There really isn’t much to do but write and enjoy it.
Well, I’m in here for drug selling. I thought that I could make fast money without getting caught, but now I know better. It was a mistake that I made and I’m going to try to make up for all the time I’ve lost in here.
I’m not the type of guy that has been in and out of jail. This is my first time incarcerated and my last. I don’t expect a girl to wait for me, but if she really cares it would be nice.
The future is a very scary and confusing thought. It brings with it many questions that can’t be answered like: What will I be like?
Will I survive doing the right thing? Well, anyway I’ll talk to you later.
LOURDES
She was once never heard of or given a thought
A stranger to me not yet known.
Was it by accident or maybe just fate
two people revealing thoughts and ideas,
once strangers, now they are friends
She makes me forget all the trouble I’ve had
I unleashed my sorrow and fear,
she gave me warmth care and understanding.
We’ve become good friends
with a lot on our minds,
I hope she still writes me
when I’ve done my time.
Rodney
March 15, 1989
Dear Rodney,
Hi, how are you today? I am glad that you are determined to do the right thing. If you keep up thinking thinking that way you will really go places.
I am feeling very bad today. I am going through some problems this week and I feel like just going away and saying the hell with everyone, but I can’t do that, so I’m going to have to do something else to help myself. I’ll get over it I think that my cold is the main reason for my bad mood, but they’re both my problem.
HEY KID, YOU’RE GETTING OUT! You should be happy. Forget about being scared. You’ve got to think about starting over and doing the right thing, and you’ll be ok. Take my word for it!!! IF NOT, YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE PROBLEMS WITH ME.
Rodney, you seem like a nice, sweet, and warm person, who made a mistake and who is getting his at together and who wont be back to Rikers. Right, Rodney?!
Sincerely,
Lourdes
PS I REALLY LIKE THE POEM YOU WROTE TO ME.
Responses between Rodney and I are now by phone. Rodney got out of Rikers Island on March 23, 1989. We saw each other on Easter, and we’ve become friends.
Right now, Rodney is visiting relatives, and he’s looking for a job. We talk, maybe twice a week. I’ve written him a letter and given him my home address, so maybe we’ll start writing again.
In 1990 the Howard Beach killing and the assault on the Central Park Jogger had repercussions throughout the city. There were 2 essays:
in “Let’s Stop Racism” Nathan W. wrote,
Who’s to blame?
That is the question asked when racism comes up. Today as I look back and reflect on racism, everyone is pointing the finger at each other. No one is taking a look at what part they played in the incident.
A situation that troubles me the most is that we see racism invading all areas of our life. We find racism in politics. The mayoral fight has turned into what race is more dominant rather than what each candidate can do as our mayor.
and in “Race Relations” William wrote,
All of these things get me upset. Don’t people get tired of having to deal with these issues? I don’t think it’s fair at all how the media takes these issues out of context. The neighborhoods have nothing to do with what goes on inside of them. It’s the residents and how they go about raising their children. If they allow their children to interact with friends of a different race this will allow their kids to get to know a person for who they are, not push them away because of the color of their skin.
The concluding poems in Streams 4 were by Doreena from Concord High School. In “Remember When...” she wrote:
“Remember how you felt when you just knew you were the only freshman who had the jitters, then you saw that all the other freshmen were nervous too.”1
That was followed by Who Are We?:
We are loving,
We are sensitive
And we’ve only just begun,
We are funny, unique and different,
But somehow we are one.
She concluded her poem, We Are, with the lines:
We are the strength this nation needs,
Upon our wisdom, others will feed.
We are sound of body and soul,
We shall go forth and take control.
Streams 4
Monday, January 3, 2011
Facing Frightful Feelings
Youth Options Unlimited (Y.O.U.) was established as a transition school. It wanted to open a site in each of the five boroughs. Its students were preparing to return to neighborhood public schools after residing in state institutions for adolescent offenders.
Many, though not all, of the students were undisciplined, emotionally volatile, and branded as problems when they were removed from their home schools. Through their own errors of judgement, they had lost the opportunity to go to school. The new teachers were scorned by the students. They could not easily establish a setting for open classroom discussions. I came with books of peer writing. The students read Streams aloud. They were interested in Ray Batts’ tale in Bed/Stuy, Brooklyn. Teachers looked on read with their students.
Streams 1
Over the years, the teaching of expressive writing evolved in the YOU program; and Waterways eventually published individual student chapbooks for many of the students. Many students needed one to one assistance to succeed. Otherwise they would have left the social network that was the school. On their own they would choose truancy again. Waterways’ teachers could help the students achieve self expression and self advocacy.
On Staten Island, Barbara went before the local school board to ask that PS 15 be made available to the needs of the Alternative High School superintendency. She was told to forget about it. The building was only used to store custodial supplies. Alice Murray looked at the site for the YOU program and Richard Organisciak looked at the space as a possibility for the Sadie American Program an OES site for pregnant and parenting teens on Staten Island.
Waterways published, Sadie American Sighs. In 1992, the teaching artist we sent to the site was Sonya Ostrom. She was OES’s union rep and board member of the UFT’s English Language Arts Council (ELAC, an Affiliate of the National Council of Teachers of English).
For that issue, Caasi wrote “The Parts of My Life” --
Some parts of my life are so much fun. One of the good things in my life is that I am pregnant, and that I have something to look forward to. This part of my life I love.
But then there is another part of me that is scared and miserable. That part is about boys. Like I have a lot of friends, but that is as far as it goes. The reason for that is because I am afraid that something may happen to him or me. The reason why I feel this way is because of what happened to my boyfriend. And I cannot go through the pain again because I am still dealing with his death.
Another reason is because no one can take the place of the boyfriend I had. He was one of the most caring guys that I knew, and he was always respectful. And we taught each other a lot about many different things. And he loved kids, he was always the cheerful type.
So that is why I don’t want to be with anyone. This is one part of my life that I won’t let anybody into. These are special parts of my life.
Sadie American Sighs (1992)
Another OES classroom on Staten Island was in the Camelot rehab, where we sent Linda Notovitz in 1989. The result was the magazine, Illusions:
The Mountains - Christina M.
Way up in my hidden paradise,
I hear the birds singing
their lovely, spring time song.
The river is slightly swollen
from the melting snow.
Everywhere, everything is in bloom.
The leaves are beginning to sprout.
The new grass shoots are showing
themselves to the world once again.
Bright flowers form a blanket over
the once white and frozen lands.
These are the signs of the coming
of the spring.
In 1990 Margo Mack, who had been teaching on Rikers Island, became a Waterways/OES teaching artist at that site. Her publication included this piece:
My First Day at Camelot by Cede 3
my first day at camelot
it was very confusing to me
worrying about what kind of
people would be there and
how they would treat me
i guess i just came here
with the wrong attitude
because when i needed
someone to talk to
people jump at my feet
this place is like a
second family to me
and i just wish it
would get the respect
it deserves.
Illusions Vol 2 No 3
The city-wide Beacon program provided after school and evening programs for communities in need. United Activities Unlimited (UAU) opened the first site on Staten Island in an elementary school (PS 18) by the West Brighton Projects. Waterways was invited to be a part of that program
Gary Gullo was our teaching artist for the after school program. He was assisted by Thomas Perry and one of our interns from City As School. A small group came together to put our a series of poetry publications with the titles, Compassion in Society and They Don’t Want Us Around: Today’s Crisis. Gary wrote the introduction:
I think the material in this magazine has entered another phase. Students with consistent commitment to the practice and class have gained self-confidence for much of the exercise and technique to fall away and reveal authentic poetry and prose. Discussion has become a regular part of the process and the experience of later century America with all its incomprehensible turnings a likely subject. As one student said, “They’ve only replaced ropes and trees with guns, clubs and wars.”
Is there racism in America? You bet there is.
Compassion In Our Society (Waterways Site Based Publication)
We were welcomed at Alternative Services for High Schools (ASHS) in the St. George School. Shelia Evans-Tranumn was Principal. John Minogue was the acting director. Margaret Friscia was the teacher on site who inspired her students to write.
The Frightful Feeling of Being Neglected in Reality (1990)
The feeling of being neglected is very sad and lonely. When I was a baby, at the age of two months, my mother decided she didn’t want me any more. She sent me away. At the age of four, I recognized the horrible feelings of neglect. Even though I did fully understand the causes and reasons, the lonely feeling was always sitting in the pit of my stomach.
At the age of six, I saw my father whom I had heard a great deal about. I told him I want to see my mamma. But, when he took me to see her, she pointed a knife at me and told me I was eating her children’s food and if I didn’t stop she was going to kill me. I was shaking like a leaf with fright. But, most of all, I was very sad, because my mama didn’t want me. My father brought me back to the place where I used to live. It was terrible. I hated that place because there was no love there.
I lived through my childhood days wondering what have I done to my mother? Why doesn’t she want me? Oh, how I wished I could change her mind so some day she would come and get me. But, she never did . Now I am twenty eight years old and still wishing she would change; hoping for the day when she will tell me she loves me. But, she never does.
Anyway, on the twenty sixth of December, 1991, I confronted her about the way she treated me. She just tried to blame it on my father, saying he never used to give her any support. In my heart, I know that’s not the truth. I told her. But, she denied it; as she always did. But, oh, how I wish and long for a mother’s love. (by Joy T.)
Reality
Many, though not all, of the students were undisciplined, emotionally volatile, and branded as problems when they were removed from their home schools. Through their own errors of judgement, they had lost the opportunity to go to school. The new teachers were scorned by the students. They could not easily establish a setting for open classroom discussions. I came with books of peer writing. The students read Streams aloud. They were interested in Ray Batts’ tale in Bed/Stuy, Brooklyn. Teachers looked on read with their students.
Streams 1
Over the years, the teaching of expressive writing evolved in the YOU program; and Waterways eventually published individual student chapbooks for many of the students. Many students needed one to one assistance to succeed. Otherwise they would have left the social network that was the school. On their own they would choose truancy again. Waterways’ teachers could help the students achieve self expression and self advocacy.
On Staten Island, Barbara went before the local school board to ask that PS 15 be made available to the needs of the Alternative High School superintendency. She was told to forget about it. The building was only used to store custodial supplies. Alice Murray looked at the site for the YOU program and Richard Organisciak looked at the space as a possibility for the Sadie American Program an OES site for pregnant and parenting teens on Staten Island.
Waterways published, Sadie American Sighs. In 1992, the teaching artist we sent to the site was Sonya Ostrom. She was OES’s union rep and board member of the UFT’s English Language Arts Council (ELAC, an Affiliate of the National Council of Teachers of English).
For that issue, Caasi wrote “The Parts of My Life” --
Some parts of my life are so much fun. One of the good things in my life is that I am pregnant, and that I have something to look forward to. This part of my life I love.
But then there is another part of me that is scared and miserable. That part is about boys. Like I have a lot of friends, but that is as far as it goes. The reason for that is because I am afraid that something may happen to him or me. The reason why I feel this way is because of what happened to my boyfriend. And I cannot go through the pain again because I am still dealing with his death.
Another reason is because no one can take the place of the boyfriend I had. He was one of the most caring guys that I knew, and he was always respectful. And we taught each other a lot about many different things. And he loved kids, he was always the cheerful type.
So that is why I don’t want to be with anyone. This is one part of my life that I won’t let anybody into. These are special parts of my life.
Sadie American Sighs (1992)
Another OES classroom on Staten Island was in the Camelot rehab, where we sent Linda Notovitz in 1989. The result was the magazine, Illusions:
The Mountains - Christina M.
Way up in my hidden paradise,
I hear the birds singing
their lovely, spring time song.
The river is slightly swollen
from the melting snow.
Everywhere, everything is in bloom.
The leaves are beginning to sprout.
The new grass shoots are showing
themselves to the world once again.
Bright flowers form a blanket over
the once white and frozen lands.
These are the signs of the coming
of the spring.
In 1990 Margo Mack, who had been teaching on Rikers Island, became a Waterways/OES teaching artist at that site. Her publication included this piece:
My First Day at Camelot by Cede 3
my first day at camelot
it was very confusing to me
worrying about what kind of
people would be there and
how they would treat me
i guess i just came here
with the wrong attitude
because when i needed
someone to talk to
people jump at my feet
this place is like a
second family to me
and i just wish it
would get the respect
it deserves.
Illusions Vol 2 No 3
The city-wide Beacon program provided after school and evening programs for communities in need. United Activities Unlimited (UAU) opened the first site on Staten Island in an elementary school (PS 18) by the West Brighton Projects. Waterways was invited to be a part of that program
Gary Gullo was our teaching artist for the after school program. He was assisted by Thomas Perry and one of our interns from City As School. A small group came together to put our a series of poetry publications with the titles, Compassion in Society and They Don’t Want Us Around: Today’s Crisis. Gary wrote the introduction:
I think the material in this magazine has entered another phase. Students with consistent commitment to the practice and class have gained self-confidence for much of the exercise and technique to fall away and reveal authentic poetry and prose. Discussion has become a regular part of the process and the experience of later century America with all its incomprehensible turnings a likely subject. As one student said, “They’ve only replaced ropes and trees with guns, clubs and wars.”
Is there racism in America? You bet there is.
Compassion In Our Society (Waterways Site Based Publication)
We were welcomed at Alternative Services for High Schools (ASHS) in the St. George School. Shelia Evans-Tranumn was Principal. John Minogue was the acting director. Margaret Friscia was the teacher on site who inspired her students to write.
The Frightful Feeling of Being Neglected in Reality (1990)
The feeling of being neglected is very sad and lonely. When I was a baby, at the age of two months, my mother decided she didn’t want me any more. She sent me away. At the age of four, I recognized the horrible feelings of neglect. Even though I did fully understand the causes and reasons, the lonely feeling was always sitting in the pit of my stomach.
At the age of six, I saw my father whom I had heard a great deal about. I told him I want to see my mamma. But, when he took me to see her, she pointed a knife at me and told me I was eating her children’s food and if I didn’t stop she was going to kill me. I was shaking like a leaf with fright. But, most of all, I was very sad, because my mama didn’t want me. My father brought me back to the place where I used to live. It was terrible. I hated that place because there was no love there.
I lived through my childhood days wondering what have I done to my mother? Why doesn’t she want me? Oh, how I wished I could change her mind so some day she would come and get me. But, she never did . Now I am twenty eight years old and still wishing she would change; hoping for the day when she will tell me she loves me. But, she never does.
Anyway, on the twenty sixth of December, 1991, I confronted her about the way she treated me. She just tried to blame it on my father, saying he never used to give her any support. In my heart, I know that’s not the truth. I told her. But, she denied it; as she always did. But, oh, how I wish and long for a mother’s love. (by Joy T.)
Reality
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