I commute about an hour every morning and afternoon to and from the new mixed income neighborhood in Bronzeville. I don’t have a car up here. ( I have mixed feelings about riding the CTA). I get to ride with the rest of the community on public transportation but that means I ride with everyone, and I mean everyone. The old ladies that buy groceries, the IIT students, smelly hobos, and normal teenagers. And they know I don’t belong when I cross the invisible neighbhorhood lines. People look me over when I don’t get off the IIT stop which is before Bronzeville heading south. People look at me when I wait for the train south of the loop. People look at me when I wait for the bus at the stop across from the community center that sits in front of a deserted lot. I know what it feels like to be considered out of place.
My students: Lornell, Enrico, Deon, Elisha, Jameeka F., Sharon, Virgina, Jameeka S., Vernisha, Tyra, and the twin brothers Anthony and Antonio.
Our first day together with the students and the site “mom” and supervisor, Sylvia, we all walk over to the site after we go over the plan and model. I have them write a description of the site and express what it looks like now and what they want to see in the future. The talkative teenagers say it’s dirty and has trash, others are afraid of the dragonflies. (hehe.)
One of the really shy 14 year old boys writes more words than I have hear him say this week: “I expect for people to treat it (the park) with respect.”
sitenote: Last year’s architreasures sculpture was made from an ecofriendly concrete and was destroyed with baseball bats. My executive decision: We are ONLY using concrete this year.
I make up icebreaker games for them to participate it. The shy kids are mortified that I want them to talk. I can’t tell if they are pissed we are doing this or just need more pushing to get them to talk…
Yesterday I dealt with lack of materials and communication from the architreasures support staff. This week we are supposed to be designing/ painting a sign and then casting our first concrete tiles but we are sort of in limbo until the site is graded and materials delivered. I compensate for this lack of art supplies and materials by having them draw and design tiles on the paper I bring each day. I let them go to the computer lab and look for images of tiles on the internet.
Third day into my job, I feel like I’m learning more than the teenagers are learning about art. Each Wednesday the students stay longer at the community center for “leadership training, and character building.” Today ten men from the state of Illinois work release program were brought by a police officer to the center to talk to teens and adults about the reasons why they turned to gangs and drug trafficking. Reasons they joined? Community, Money, and women. Community, brotherhood, and a sense of belonging: that was the common thread between all of these men. I listen and lines from John Eldridge’s Wild at Heart and Captivating are filling my brain. Masculinity is bestowed. One of the men talks about growing up without a dad. He says, “No woman can raise a man.” It’s hard to hear because I know most of the boys in my group have no fathers living in their homes. The statement hits a nerve of one of the best students in the group and he asks “Don’t you all think a mom can do something for her son… like us raise right?” The inmates know what he’s saying but it’s just the truth of the matter. He’s got to look somewhere for that male role model, and not from gangs.
I’m fascinated and a little apprehensive after hearing all the stories. There are so many reasons to be pouring some love and care into this community. I’m interested to see how these students will have grown by the end of the six weeks.
Such a long post today. Thanks for sticking it out sans images! Those will come soon, I promise you'll get to see everything soon.
Thanks for your prayers. I feel protected and fearless in a place where it’s not the safest.
Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity.1 timothy 4:12
te I stepped into her house she was asking me about Birmingham, putting clothes in the wash, making a grocery list, planning my night out in Roanoke. All of the sudden, I snapped out of it and remembered the broken rib and had to sit her down in the rocker and make her slow down. Nevertheless, she still had me out watering the yard on Sunday morning while she snapped pictures with her new digital camera and caught up on her Alabama Gardener and Money magazines. It was a great weekend, and I always treasure my time with my Depression Era-veteran grandmother. I revel at the gems she drops into conversation and treasure her fiery but compassionate spirit. What a woman! If I am half of who she is...
