and we awoke to a crucible

Back in the room with a group of students at a particular school in Queens, we sat down to brainstorm the bones of a new mural. My focus this year (as a teaching practice in general) is about building the kind of Future we all want to live in together. I'm imaging talking about post-apocalyptic scenarios and exploring aspects of things like afro-futurism - which incorporates the past as a powerful resource, rather then the disconnection or other-world colonization of more traditional sci-fi.

While I'm thinking about how to build supportive containers for students to engage in creative play, I'm shocked in all of my classes by the weight of the mundane on these students. The overwhelming response I got from this particular session was about - in the words of a student - the "Illusion of Choice", a road laid out in front of most of them of the middle class ideal: good grades, college, office job. No other options, just one singular route that seems to be painted in shades of brown and grey, colorless and without joy or curiosity about what other rich possibilities exist - within themselves and in the world.

It's wild to realize that what I'm working with is other people's visions for what these student's lives are composed of, so that is the place I must begin.

I took notes as they talked, catching the threads of the tapestry we are starting to weave. Board games like the Game of Life popped up, the idea of wearing a VR headset and living between 2 realities, and eventually we started talking about roller coasters - and so we did sketches where everyone took an amusement park ride and adapted it to fit some aspect of their lives, and it was devastating in how profound their maps were. Clear and articulate in their metaphors, I see the beginning of this piece.

I shared some of what came up with their in-school Art Teacher, and she replied that she was seeing echoes of all of this in all of her student work so far this year. I've been thinking a lot about how the looming recession will show up in the classrooms that I navigate, and I think it is already here. I'm in it. I'm always torn with feeling layers of responsibility for the inherent power I wield in these settings, and more intimately - in the way that all of us look to the people older then us for clues about what is or is not possible. I am lucky in this particular group of students that it is so simple - to hold and protect this space with my focused attention, and to simply listen with a deep curiosity to whatever reveals itself in the room. 

Notes I took during the session: