Malcolm Gladwell states that there are moments when too much investigation into something yields misconceptions and false outcomes. Going with your gut is essential to survival in and out of the classroom. So, it's imparative that I state here my very first gut reaction upon walking back into PS 298 this past Monday to set up my art classroom: this is only a job and not a career. There I said it. Am I invested? Sure. Everything I do, I do with aplomb. Where does this leave the idea of job versus career? Once again I must bring up the unconscious mind. Do I trust it? It's so fickle when exposed to different environments and subjects like summer vs. school year. In the summer, yeah, I don't want to go back, what am I doing? I should be focused on my art and launching my art career. Right. Right.
(I actually vow to do that this year, that is certain. It's been a long time coming. Once I get over the first day, it'll fly and be even be fun at moments, a lot easier than last year, easier enough to get a little more accomplished in the realm of my desirous career-art making.)
Today, on my third day of cleaning and organizing, I saw the gleaming face of a student visiting with her mother, taking care of business before the REAL business starts next week. When she saw me she started smiling, pulling on their mother's sleeve, saying with excitement, "Mom, that's my art teacher!" When this kind of stuff happens I have this overwhelming feeling that I'm doing the right thing by walking into one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in NYC just to expose students to the glory of art making, to show them what is possible and to uncover talents and ideas that lay dormant until drawn out.
I realize that there's a dichotomy going here. There is the life of the teacher, the one's that hooked on serving others; something my friend Anthony calls being a civilian. Then there's the other life, the one that exists after 3pm, the one that exists on the weekends and during the long glorious days of the summer. So when I walked into school this week, I realize that this job is the one I should be doing right now, despite all of my complaining. I spend a lot of time fighting against the idea of being a teacher. Yet, when I'm have moments like the one I did today, I'm contented.
Going into my second year of teaching in Brownsville, I realize there are somethings that are going to be a lot easier are there are somethings that are going to remain the same. I know what they are. It's my turn to take a step back, become less involved, to allow myself the freedom to approach what the rest of my life is about-those times after 3pm, the art work that I do, the friends, family, and intimates that I have in my life that are just as important. There will always be a Brownsville, there will always be violence, there will always be a need for a sucker like me to launch head long into teaching art to the beautiful little faces that actually really appreciate it.
I told a friend recently that I think I actually enjoy telling others that I work in Brownsville. I makes me feel like a badass. Perhaps I am. Who knows? What I do know is that when my feet hit the newly polished floors of PS 298 today, my gut said "This is good". It took three days to get me there. I've been going on all week to set up my room, meet with my Principal, and setting my mind to school mode. Now that I'm over the hump, I know that this year will be riddled with new adventures, inside the classroom and out.
Stay tuned for what those adventures are.
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