Thursday Thoughts

“I am convinced that imprisonment is a way of pretending to solve the problem of crime. It does nothing for the victims of crime, but perpetuates the idea of retribution, thus maintaining the endless cycle of violence in our culture. It is a cruel and useless substitute for the elimination of those conditions–poverty, unemployment, homelessness, desperation, racism, greed–which are at the root of most punished crime. The crimes of the rich and powerful go mostly unpunished.

It must surely be a tribute to the resilience of the human spirit that even a small number of those men and women in the hell of the prison system survive it and hold on to their humanity.”

― Howard Zinn

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Student Work Wednesday

(The following is an excerpt from a larger, work-in-progress essay).

You Live and You Learn by Manny C.

I was born into a world that was falling apart in violence and crime. Some commit crimes for the thrill, some do it simply because they feel there is no way out. Money is the root of all evil.

In the city of Chicago, this is the reality for most family members. The youth find pleasure inside gang life. They refuse to live in poverty and quickly adapt to the fast life, fast money. This was/is the story of my life, until I finally listened to my new mentors that showed me a different perspective. My sudden dynamic experience being mentored was overwhelming.

I was born in the Norwegian Hospital and raised on Kedvale between North Avenue and Cortland. At the age of 8, I realized I lived in the borderline of two rival gangs. Groups by the dozens would stand under street lights late at night surrounded by girls and fancy cars. Shootouts would erupt out of gangways and alleys making everybody scatter like roaches. I would be watching from our third floor bedroom window with my brother that was 2 years older than me. We would try to make sense on who is doing what to who and why.

There were nights when we would be excited to see events like these. But there were days we wished they would just put the guns down. Countless times our block parties were cancelled due to gang violence.

I remember the day as if it was yesterday, the day I learned how to ride a bike. It was my 9th birthday, mid-June on a beautiful day. My dad bought me my first two-wheeled bicycle. I couldn’t wait to finish eating so I could go outside and show it off to my friends.

I remember my dad guiding me and telling me how to keep my balance. I felt his arm on my shoulder as he told me to go faster until I noticed he had removed his hand from me. I looked back and realized he stayed behind and I was riding this bike by myself. I felt like the coolest kid on the block with my black Huffy bike with pegs.

The block party was on full effect. My neighbor right then and there approached the fire hydrant with a big, red wrench. All the kids on the block knew what time it was. As my neighbor struggled to open the valve, every kid stopped what they were doing and ran towards the water that began blasting out. The water from the hydrant formed a small rainbow in the mist.

Down the block, the latest Cumbia song started playing on full volume. The older teens got in the middle of the street and started dancing to the rhythm. It didn’t take long for one of them to pull me off my Huffy bike to make me dance. At nine years old I didn’t know how to dance, but I sure acted like I knew what I was doing; shaking my tail side to side, one step, two step. Emily laughed with me and encouraged me to keep going while she showed off her moves. Emily was 16 years old and she was my next door neighbor. I had the biggest crush on her ever since I met her. I loved it when she would call me her “lil man.”

As I danced with her I heard a bird call…all of a sudden, I saw a masked man run out of a gangway. He started letting rounds off towards Cortland where three guys started running for cover. Emily covered me with her body as she carried me off the street as fast as she could. One thing I knew for sure was that one of my family members was involved in this constant battle for this neighborhood.

Yet again, another perfect day ruined. Why did it have to be on my birthday?

Unfortunately, I had eight uncles that were gang related. It was normal for me to have their company; I felt secured. One tragic day I lost one of my uncles to gang violence. This forced my parents to leave the city for the sake of my two little sisters, my older brother, and me. But it was too late for me.

By eighth grade, I carried on my uncle’s ways. I smoked and caused trouble in the neighborhood with my friends. I bought my first car at age 15; all drug money. My parents didn’t have a clue I had so much. They were just proud I had such tremendous grades in school.

I always believed the weed was the key to my success to my grades. Math and science were my best subjects. I actually found astronomy and formulas quite fascinating. I mastered a couple formulas by simply putting two and two together. This made everything else mathematically simple. And curiosity took the best of me in biology. It blew my mind how small I am compared to how big the universe is. I needed to know more; I was hungry for knowledge. But once that bell rang, it was back to the streets…

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Thursday Thoughts

“In short, the right given to one man to inflict corporal punishment on another is one of the ulcers of society, one of the most powerful destructive agents of every germ and every budding attempt at civilization, the fundamental cause of its certain and irretrievable destruction.”

― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The House of the Dead

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Student Work Wednesday

What Would Be a Great Ability? by Smiley

Invisibility—

Would you just use it to not be seen? Or would it be more of a mental thing? Would you use it to free yourself from a trap? Or would you use it to hide yourself from all of life’s crap? Would you use it to be the greatest robber? Or would you use it to help another? Would you use it to hide the way you look? To hide the beauty that someone else mistook?

Smartness—

Would you use it for all the knowledge to gain? Or would you use it to keep all the inferior people slain? Would you use it to achieve a greater career? To become a person that everybody would fear? Would you use it to better yourself? Or would you use it to help someone else? Would you use it to overcome the intellectual barrier that no one has surpassed? Or would you use it to just be someone that is remembered from the past?

Strength—

Would you like to be the one that gains it in jail wearing shackles? Or would you gain it by overcoming some of your physical obstacles? Would you use it to become one of the greatest superheroes? Or you just want it, so when you’re seen, the expression is “eeeeeeh bro?!” Would you be able to help humanity with the weight that’s pushing us down? Or are you just going to be the person, that when it’s needed, it’s never around? Would you use it to push yourself to actually become? Or are you gonna be the person that people say “he just misused it he’s just dumb?!”

Fly—

Would you use it to reach your limit, which some people say is the sky? Or you just need it to hide yourself in unreachable altitude so no one would see you cry? This is a very special ability, what’s your purpose for it, I need to know why. If I didn’t give you this ability would you just give up and not even try?

Without an ability, you would be just like me, but realize that there is a possibility. That’s what’s wrong with humanity, we don’t open up our eyes and see that the options are endless, there is an infinity.

So let me ask you one more time: What would be a great ability?

To help you reach all your dreams, to help you realize, you do have a future…that is something I foresee.

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Collaborative Writing

“A little nonsense now and then, is cherished by the wisest men.” –Roald Dahl

Today in class we did a collaborative writing activity that, for you and I, probably harkens back to our days in elementary or middle school. You know, the one in which one person starts a story with one line, the next person picks up writing their own sentence, and so on–all the while folding over the piece of paper so you can only see the one sentence/entry before you are to write yours. The end result is usually a silly, nonsensical mini-story. But most of my students had not had the opportunity to engage in this sort of activity. In fact, only one had done it previously.

We each started with a fresh sheet of paper (myself included). We went ’round and ’round, passing our sheets clockwise. The room quickly filled with excitement:

Our Stories

Our Stories

“What?!”

“How the?”

“Ooooh I got a good one!”

“Dude this is crazy”

“Nah, what the hell am I supposed to do with this?!”

“This is gonna be hilarious.”

After each sheet was almost done and someone noticed there was room for only one sentence, it was that person’s duty to somehow “tie together” or write an “ending” to a story they knew little about. Some stories made it around further than others. In the end, everyone had a tightly rolled sheet of paper. Everyone wanted to eagerly unroll their sheets to reveal the story within. They were looking at these pieces of paper with the anticipation a child looks at the biggest present under the tree. Again, we went around, one by one,  in a circle; each student unrolled their paper like an ancient scroll and read aloud to the group what was written.

Or, I should say, attempted to read. The amount of laughter was uncontrollable. People stumbled over sentences, caught in a fit of laughter. Tears were wiped. Stories were started, then stopped, then started again after breaths were caught. Re-reads were requested because nothing could be heard over the howling. Heads were tossed back in disbelief of the silliness. Faces were red. None of this is hyperbole.

“I haven’t laughed like this in forever.”

“Dude I’m gonna remember this in like, years from now. I’m still gonna be laughing.”

“Man, I needed that.”

I write of this moment, this activity, to share my observations of the impact of this exercise, as I believe it demonstrates a basic tenet of writing (and reading) which is its ability to take us to places unknown.  We can forget about our lives and our surroundings through the written word, whether engaging in writing or reading.

Afterwards, amidst all the excited energy, we discussed the importance of working together, trying out new ideas, sticking with something and seeing it through even if you’re confused. While the students were engaged in that discussion, they mainly wanted to know, “can we do this again next week?” I smiled and realized their cheeks probably hurt as much as mine did.

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