Posted by Sandra Clifton on Sep 28, 2011 in
Cornerstone Column Here’s my column for the recent September 2011 Cornerstone:
The True Mastermind
I’m lucky to teach in a beautiful studio classroom that looks out on Brooklyn brownstones of Park Slope with a view of the misty city in the distance. But lately our landscape in this beautiful borough I call home has taken a hit…Each week this past month, I have watched the economy erode Mom n’ Pop shops that have been part of my NYC clan…First it was the bodega just around the corner from my apartment–the landlord tripled the rent and, after 42 years, they closed their doors. To someone reading this column, the end of a grocery store may not seem like a big deal, but to us in the neighborhood, it was like pulling up our anchor. Every night when arriving home from work at 10pm, I would stop in–for some lettuce, or cat food, or half-n-half–but really what I was buying was human contact with the guy there who knew me, who came to learn about my family, who cared when my face seemed especially tired or stretched. And yes, he would shave off a bit of the price each time and say, “
See you soon!” Most evenings he was the last person I talked to. And it felt like a funeral when the aisles emptied…
Then later that week on my way to the train, I popped my head into my favorite curiosity shop–a cute little antique store just a block away–to visit with my friend, Frank. He fixed my old lamps and chatted about my “fictional cottage in CT” and listened to my fantasy of visiting Tuscany. Quirky and full of stories, Frank always had the time to take my dreams seriously. But that balmy autumn afternoon, I suddenly turned around twice in mid-sentence to realize that the walls were empty of eclectic art and almost every stick of furniture had disappeared. After collecting precious “companions” for our homes, Frank’s business of 32 years was now stacked in a few remaining boxes. All of a sudden, I found myself returning to the street holding just a small slip of paper with a phone number for Long Island…
A week later, I trekked up to Montague to mail a package, trying to hum a tune, and stopped dead in my tracks: across the street hovered a darkened awning of Amin, the Indian restaurant where I routinely met one of my favorite students from Poly Prep as an annual tradition spanning over six years. Immediately reaching for my phone in pure panic, I called Gen to ask if she knew anything–and discovered that this cafe had been there since she was a baby. But the FedEx guys confirmed the hard truth: they couldn’t meet new lease requirements either. It seemed impossible that we had just shared a meal together over easy laughter just a few weeks ago…
And during a recent lesson with a Corner Kid, I learned to my chagrin in casual conversation that somehow that my favorite coffee shop in Park Slope had closed. It was like hearing that someone had collapsed from a heart-attack at age 35. “WHAT? NOT OZZIE’S?!!” I practically screamed. This was the hub-bub of Berkeley Carroll students and teachers, moms in the neighborhood, and the likes of me–popping in each fall as the temperature dropped to ask, “Do you have soup today?” I used to exchange fun quips with the manager about his 80′s tunes and splurge on their ruggelah when I needed a feeling of my mom’s pastries or a nudge from comfort food midst mid-winter’s gray days. Ozzie’s had been my emotional oasis between a day in the city and a long night at the Corner. Now where would I go to land and recover and renew?
Do we have any idea, any of us, just what we mean to each other? How much we add to the daily fabric of our comings and goings, of our individual highs and lows? I was in a Mastermind meeting last week and broke down about losing so many business buddies in my tribe–but the other women on the call were completely confused. Perhaps they aren’t extroverts like me who get juiced by small exchanges of common connections. Certainly they aren’t from New York. But most importantly, they don’t know the small town heartbeat that has really built the Big Apple. We claim the culture and the skyscrapers and the success of this city–but midst all the external glitter, it’s the little neighborhoods pulling together that has made this international meeting place a multi-faceted family.
As I lamented again to my client, “Jason,” about the loss of this sweet coffee shop, he looked over at me and said, “We’ll make it through–” and I stopped and smiled. Here was a young man who had lost his aunt on 9/11 with 700 other souls at Cantor Fitzgerald–and I knew he was right, moved by this powerful example of resilience. There in my classroom studio was the true mastermind: my student modeled what I try to teach every day–to have a heart of empathy, to listen, to learn, and to support each other through the storms. I was humbled and happy all at the same time. With one sentence, Jason provided powerful healing and infinite wisdom: my high school student offered a gift of emotional intelligence which no “wise woman” with all kinds of life experience could begin to grasp.
Yes, times are tough. But our kids are strong–and they are learning the lessons of community and diversity and creativity….gems of growth that I believe will translate into a better tomorrow, somehow. In the meantime, parents and friends, never doubt that–in this and every economy–it’s empathy that builds a beautiful brain, and this masterful tool will lead the way to a better day.
I attended the Teen Open House at the Met again a few weeks ago, and was inspired by the awesome opportunities for youth in NYC. Here are some of the highlights for youth in the city this fall:
GAME*MAKER: a workshop for students ages 14-18 yrs with interests in game design and mobile technology sponsored by the National Science Foundation–from Sept 29th-Oct 29th, 4-6pm on Thursdays and 12-2pm on Saturdays at the Eyebeam Art + Technology Center–540 W 21st Street. Just $25 for all ten sessions, but reservation required: Contact Ingrid Erickson at lerick@gmail.com.
ART UNDERGROUND: Every artist has a story. Join MoMA Teens at 4pm on the first and third Fridays of the month, from October-April, for documentary and fictional films about artists’ lives, with activities that range from studio workshops to discussions with filmmakers–open to 120 kids from 14-19 years, with student ID. Email teenprograms@moma.org for more info.
ART OF THE GRAPHIC NOVEL: A Free Event for Teens (Ages 11-18) on Saturday, Oct 1st, 2011 from 2:00-3:30pm, featuring Gareth Hinds, author and illustrator of his graphic novel, The Odyssey–hosted in the new graphic novel collection at the Nolen Library of the Met. Questions and registration? Email nolen.library@metmuseum.org.
TEEN PROGRAMS AT THE MUSEUM FOR AFRICAN ART: Mobile Storytelling Teaching Intern, Teen Digital Advisory Committee at the Brooklyn Museum, Youth Ambassadors Internship Program–all details to be determined. Contact Dan’etta Jimenez, Youth Programs Coordinator at #718.784.7700, ext 126 or email djimenez@africanart.org
AFTER SCHOOL TEEN PROGRAM at the Children’s Museum of the Arts: Classes instructed by professional teaching artists on M-Th. Check out a variety of opportunities to learn new techniques in Sculpture, Japanese Art, Puppetry for Theater & TV, Radio Show Podcasting, Screen Printing/Jewelry/Costume Design, Photoshop, Sound Studio, Fashion, & Filmmaking! Fall Semester from Oct 3-Dec 16, Fee $500. Visit www.cmany.org for more info.
TEEN ART LABS & AFTER SCHOOL PROGRAM at the Rubin Museum of Art: Free opportunities to discuss art critically with professional artists on Mondays and Thursdays from 4-6:30pm. Apply online at rmanyc.org/teens by 10/1.
NYC TEEN DESIGN FAIR: Meet Tim Gunn and top designers from all fields on Tuesday, Oct 18th from 4:00-6:30pm. The event is free but space is limited and registration is required: http://cooperhewitt.org/education/youth-programs !
TEEN PHOTO CONTEST–NEW YORK STORIES: The Education Dept invites high school students to submit original photographs which document the people, places, and stories that represent and distinguish their communities, both inside and out of NYC. For additional info, visit www.The JewishMuseum.org/EdContests. Entries must be received by Friday, Jan 20th, 2012.
HIGH SCHOOL VIDEO WORKSHOP: Free–Ten Sessions, Thursdays beginning Oct 27th from 4:30-6:30pm. Contact teenprograms@thejm.org
HIGH SCHOOL FILM FESTIVAL: December 6th, 8th, & 9th from 10am-1pm. Students view award-winning documentaries that examine issues such as identity, culture, and tolerance. Each day is FREE with post-film discussions and a pizza lunch! Visit TheJewishMuseum.org for more info.
ART SLAMS: Friday nights packed with art-making exclusively for young artists from 13-15, from 6:30-8pm, for just $5. Check out cmany.org at 103 Charlton Street, NYC–special Halloween program on Oct 28th with vintage-inspired scary movie posters, costume design, and the 1931 film of Frankenstein!
PORTFOLIO REDEFINED–For High School Students Preparing an Art & Design Portfolio for College Admission: Saturday, Oct 1st at the Museum of Arts and Design, 2 Columbus Circle, 9:30am-4pm. Free to attend! Register at www.portfolioredefined.eventbrite.com.
COMICS, ZINES, AND THE LIVES OF TEENS: With cartoonists and writers Jessica Abel and Dash Shaw on Friday, Oct 14th from 4-6pm at The Whitney Museum of American Art, 945 Madison Avenue & 75th St. The event is free but pre-registration is required at youthinsights@whitney.org.
FALL PHOTO CLASSES at the International Center of Photography: Black-and-White, Color Film, and Teen Academy Imagemakers for grades 9-12. Visit www.icp.org for more info.
Here’s to all kinds of art–please spread the good word to our young people–thank you!!
Posted by Sandra Clifton on Sep 5, 2011 in
Uncategorized This past summer, I attended a life-changing seminar by participating in the Op-Ed Project. I cannot recommend this workshop highly enough—the instructors, Katie Orenstein and Katherine Lanpher—are beyond professional and their curriculum of courage and conviction is absolutely inspirational.
They told us we were experts “sitting on a solution,” yet as a mere lit and poetry teacher, my forte is more about asking questions…But I did write a piece—it just didn’t hit any mainstream menus. So I thought I’d share my perspective here, especially after reading an article in the NY Times this past weekend called “The Mechanic Muse–From Scroll to Screen,” by Lev Grossman. It seems to me that there might be a small choir out there….So this is what I composed this past August 2011, my Almost Op-Ed.
I’ll never forget the day I lost my first friend in New York City: the Q-train crossed the Manhattan Bridge, and I closed the book of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. My vision clouded as I looked out at the boats on the East River and tried to hide my mascara-stained cheeks from tired commuters. It was the summer of 2002, and I had sold my old Mazda and a little bungalow in Indianapolis to land in Flatbush…without a job, a roommate, or a clue. As a former high school English teacher, I reached for a map—and what I picked up was Bette Smith’s tale of Francie Nolan, a girl growing up in Brooklyn.
Granted—today, many of us can easily access Smith’s book on a Kindle, or maybe the glow of a Nook could be a reassuring nightlight during those first evenings alone. But a book is sturdy, like an anchor in this quickly-moving city. Back then, I’d take Francie on the train and her journey would speak to me, and I wasn’t alone: I found myself surrounded by readers at every stop. In days gone by, we could actually observe what people on the subway were reading, much like watching the weather in society—sometimes we traded a quick eye of approval or began an exchange with the familiar refrain, “I love that book!”
Not so today. Coming home from work on the MTA, the young woman in front of me cradles a glowing tablet of gray plastic. She could be reading anything—and in some ways, I suppose that freedom is liberating. (Perhaps I don’t want someone to know my secret of reading The Secret.) But the potential connection of literary love between us is lost. I may or may not have commented on the cover of an anniversary-edition novel or asked about the author—today that conversation will likely not unfold, as I have no idea about this woman’s fictional journey, and therefore have much less access to her real experience on the F-train this evening. In this uncanny age of progress, I’m reminded of Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit-451, where characters recede into a magical screen of fabricated “family,” and I have to wonder—with all the advancement of technology, could there be a cost to humanity? Certainly we are not burning books. But as they keep disappearing from my radar, like Clarisse, I must ask, “Are we happy?”
Nine years ago, I held Francie’s hand as I schlepped through the city, looking for work, searching for community. Eventually landing a position as a teacher in a program for gifted minority students at Prep for Prep, every two weeks I would pass out a different novel. At first I thought my students were mocking me: with the announcement of each new title, the room erupted with unbridled excitement. I discovered that I’d finally found my tribe, and felt a little like St. Nick, gifting each child with a book of his or her own….to write in, to highlight, to shield from the daily insults of “nerd” or “freak.” I had been one of those kids: during recess I’d escape behind the comforting rows of books in the school library. Diving into the biographies of the Wright Brothers, Marie Curie, and Jackie Robinson, I found the strength and stamina to sort through the stress of school. I’m just not sure (even if my family could afford it—) that I would have discovered the same comfort in a Kindle.
This is the future that Bradbury predicted—one of increasing isolation and alienation, a land where books don’t exist. While some have financial access to a well-stocked Nook, true literacy is not just about the individual journey, but engaging in shared ideas within a larger community—whether in the quiet of a book shop or the bustle of a subway. This exchange may still happen in classrooms across the country, yet consider my experience at a laptop school in Brooklyn Heights. The students are sensitive and exceedingly bright: as a permanent substitute who served two paternity leaves, there is no other place where I’d rather teach. But I feel a bit lost leading a literature discussion with a room full of faces staring intently at a green-glowing computer screen. A single electronic tool simplifies and condenses multiple texts and notebooks, but it simultaneously dims the open forum of unsure eyes, wondering glances, and even a daydreamer’s stare—each a portal for discovery, discourse, and debate.
Undoubtedly, my Prep kids would adore owning an iPad—its lightness would save weight in their heavy backpacks and might even prevent future visits to the chiropractor. It’s a fact that electronic tablets provide unlimited options for the intellect—but I wonder about students who don’t have access to this electronic avenue of information. What will happen when libraries no longer offer books on loan? It seems to me uncanny that “the good book” makes reference to The Tree of Knowledge. Could it be that books are a sacred source, a connection to Spirit?
Francie’s ritual of reading on her fire escape midst the branches of a tree offered a vision of Brooklyn that wasn’t yet mine—but in August 2002 as I moved through the hot, crowded streets to the Newkirk subway stop, Bette Smith gave me the glimpse of a dream. By reaching for A Tree Grows in Brooklyn as my weapon and shield, I defaulted to a strategy that had worked so long ago in my childhood. I found the courage to explore this city with Francie—one page at a time.
