Tag Archives: Expanding Minds Program

Tidiane, or Sunukaddu at T3

  By laurelfelt | July 7, 2012 - 6:11 pm | , , , ,
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During the summer of 2010, I had the thrilling opportunity to work in Dakar, Senegal, with innovative non-governmental organization le Reseau Africain d’Education pour la Sante (RAES) program, Sunukaddu. To this teen workshop in multimedia health communication, I brought a pedagogical model and method that positioned new media literacies (NMLs) and SEL skills as fundamental to meaningful learning, and asset appreciation as key to sustainability. Collaboratively as a Sunukaddu team, local staff and I generated: a daily schedule that reflected a scaffolded methodology for optimizing participatory learning; a programmatic schedule that introduced key communication characteristics, strategies, and platforms, as well as useful theory; full lesson plans that respected our theoretical, temporal, and curricular goals; and a sense of togetherness, prompting us to declare the important Wolof phrase, “Nio far!”

My colleague Tidiane Thiang, 27, an audio/video specialist at RAES, ardently embraced the “Sunukaddu method.” His journey inspired this account (from Dura, Felt, & Singhal, 2012, What Counts? For Whom? Cultural Beacons as Grassroots Communication Measures):

“The Kitten Who Became a Lion” in Senegal

…Prior to joining the implementation team for a new youth development intervention, Tidiane always kept his speech to a minimum. At meetings, he listened attentively and took copious notes; periodically, he would send a long email to the director that articulated his perspectives on the various topics of discussion. Such communicative behavior might be considered Tidiane’s “baseline.”

During the summer of 2010, Tidiane and several co-workers piloted Sunukaddu 2.0, an intervention intended to empower youths by supporting their development of skills that enable exploration, collaboration, and meaningful communication (Felt & Rideau, forthcoming). Not only did the program significantly impact participants but its effects upon Tidiane were also profound. During brainstorming meetings and curriculum workshops, he voiced his own ideas. When the program opened its doors, he challenged participants with critical thinking questions and rich cultural commentary. During a lesson on message dissemination, he spontaneously sprang from a corner of the room and translated a lengthy explanation of Everett Rogers’s Diffusion of Innovations theory (1962/2003) from (imperfect) French into participants’ native Wolof. And when unanticipated transportation and scheduling issues left Tidiane as the sole instructor for an entire day, he independently delivered – and innovated! – the curriculum, then enthused about his experience afterwards. In Tidiane’s own words:

“You gave me self-confidence thanks to these skills” (personal communication, September 22, 2010).

“My favorite skills are negotiation, self-awareness, and social awareness because they represent values that are and must be the basis for an equitable and responsible society” (personal communication, September 27, 2010).

Tidiane did not revert to his quiet ways after the program bestowed certificates of completion upon its participants (an element suggested and designed by Tidiane). Rather, he declared his intention to realize his filmmaking dreams by proposing a short video that would explain how to take the skills presented in Sunukaddu 2.0 and adapt them to an African, specifically Senegalese, context (personal communication, October 7, 2010).

When anticipated funding streams fell through, he was undeterred: “I will make it with my own funds because it’s a good subject for a film” (personal communication, January 8, 2010). Tidiane’s colleagues playfully nicknamed him “the kitten who became a lion,” a moniker that he embraced. On August 18, 2010, Tidiane Photoshopped his Facebook thumbnail so that the image of a roaring lion overlaid his polo shirt (See Figure 9).


Figure 9. Tidiane publicizing his newfound leonine identity

Tidiane’s experience functions as a cultural beacon because its full understanding, its very recognition, requires cultural participation. Had outside evaluators visited RAES and observed Sunukaddu 2.0 in action, they would not have noticed anything remarkable – a young instructor was simply teaching a lesson. The phenomenal nature of Tidiane’s speech would have been invisible to these context-less recorders and so this rich data, bursting with implications, would have been lost.

I left Senegal in August of 2010, bidding adieu — but not goodbye — to my beloved colleagues. Here’s a final goofy photo of me, Tidiane, and Brock (a Master of Public Health student at UCLA and my roommate for one month of my stay):

In my absence, Tidiane and our colleague Idrissa, who we both affectionately referred to as our father, continued to share the Sunukaddu method. On February 1, 2011, Tidiane sent me nine huge photo files; each depicted an image of employees from Senegalese non-profit organizations as they used the Sunukaddu method in a training workshop that Tidiane and Idrissa led. Here are screenshots of two of these photographs:

On June 8, 2012, Tidiane sent the following via email:

“Je voulais t’envoyer les photos de la formation sunukaddu que nous sommes entrain de faire à Mbour…
“C’est super de faire sunukaddu à Mbour parce que c’est une zone touristique et c’est l’endroit ou le taux de prévalence est le plus élevé au Sénégal et aussi la pauvreté fait que les touristes on du pouvoir par rapport aux habitants locaux…”

“I’d like to send you the photos from the Sunukaddu training that we’re in the middle of doing in Mbour [a city in Senegal approximately 81 km south of Dakar, also along the Atlantic coast]…
“It’s great to do Sunukaddu in Mbour because it’s a tourist-y area and it’s the place where the tax rate is the highest in Senegal, and also the poverty is such that tourists have power over local residents…”

Here are the images that Tidiane appended:

I, too, kept pushing forward with Sunukaddu. I incorporated NMLs, SELs, and Idrissa’s competence clothesline into an after-school program, Explore Locally Excel Digitally, that I co-created with my colleagues at PLAY!

My work with Sunukaddu also indirectly influences all of the work I have done and will do since, including but not limited to such diverse projects as teaching young children in India to developing digital curriculum for the USC Shoah Foundation Institute.

On May 2, 2012, Tidiane informed me via email that a short film he made with his friends would be shown at an international forum on youth employment in Geneva, Switzerland. In a follow-up email on May 3, 2012, he wrote,

“Je pense que ce film une fois qu’il sera diffuser au forum international à Genève , peut être , changera quelque chose dans les politiques d’emploi pour les jeunes au Sénégal et en Afrique.”
“I think that this film, once it’s shown at the international forum in Geneva, maybe will change something with regards to employment policies for youths in Senegal and in Africa.”

I was impressed and, after I watched the film, even more so. I asked for another version of the film, one that included the credits so that everyone who watched would know Tidiane’s name, and requested permission to share his film on my blog. He agreed with pleasure.

Tearing a page from my mentor Henry Jenkins‘s playbook, I also emailed Tidiane a series of interview questions so that his responses could complement and contextualize his important artistic and political work. Here are the questions and answers, first in their original French, then in English and boldface for our reading ease (NOTE: This was translated by little ol’ (limited) me):

LAUREL: Comment est-ce que tu as pris l’idee a faire ce film?
TIDIANE: C’est Alex qui m’as envoyé le lien pour participer au concours et j’ai participer, j’ai beaucoup d’amis qui vivent cette situation donc s’était très facile pour moi d’écrire le scénario et surtout de pouvoir partager leurs préoccupations avec le reste du monde.
LAUREL: How did you get the idea to make this film?
TIDIANE: It was Alex [the director of RAES] who sent me the link to participate in the contest and I participated, lots of my friends experience this situation so it was very easy for me to write the script and especially to be able to share in their concern with the rest of the world.

LAUREL: Comment est-ce que tu as fait le film — trouver les joueurs, louer le transport en commun, faire de la recherche sur l’issu d’access a l’emploi des jeunes, ecrire le scenario, employer les assistants, payer tout le monde, prendre le camera et le logiciel de montage, etc?
TIDIANE: Tous les acteurs sont des bénovoles et ce sont mes amis. J’ai payé 5000 fcf environ 10 dollars au transport en commun et j’ai filmer dans le car rapide mais on n’avait au préalable fait une répétition chez moi puisque la voiture devait faire un seul tour du quartier avec nous alors  il failait faire 3 prises et que tous le monde devaient assurer. Le raes m’a prêter sa caméra et j’ai monter le film à la maison avec le logiciel Sony vegas 7 donc le film a gouté 10 dollars.
LAUREL: How did you make the film — find the actors, rent the bus, do research on the issue of youths’ access to employment, write the script, hire the crew, pay everyone, get the camera and editing software, etc?
TIDIANE: All of the actors were volunteers and my friends. I paid 5000 francs — around $10 USD — for the bus and I filmed inside the bus but we didn’t have any prior rehearsal at my house because the bus had to make one circuit around the neighborhood with us, so we had to do three takes to be sure that we got it. RAES lent me its camera and I edited the film at my house with the program Sony Vegas 7, so the fim cost around $10 USD.

LAUREL: Combien de temps est-ce que tu as pris pour creer ce film?
TIDIANE: Le film m’a pris une journée de travail.
LAUREL: How much time did it take you to make this film?
TIDIANE: The film took me one day of work.

LAUREL: Expliquez plus sur le forum au Geneve. Donnez-moi le nom entier du forum et direz comment tu est arrive a ce point-ci d’y aller et présenter ton film.
TIDIANE: Même si j’ai pas gagner je suis content de voir que film a été projeter et que des décideurs de même que d’autre jeunes du monde entier l’on regarder.Et ça s’était mon objectif.
Voici l’e-mail que j’ai reçu sur forum…
[see below]
LAUREL: Explain more about the forum in Geneva. Give me the whole name of the forum and tell me how you got to this point to present your film there.
TIDIANE: Even though I didn’t win I’m happy to see that the film was screened and that the panel and youths from around the world saw it. And that was my objective.
Here’s the email that I received about the forum:

http://www.ilo.org/employment/areas/youth-employment/WCMS_175301/lang–fr/index.htm

Dear Tidiane,

Congratulations! Out of the 240 video submissions we have received your video has been chosen as the top 15! Unfortunately due to tough competition your video has not made it to the top 3. Nonetheless, the great news is that your video will be featured on the ILO website and the ILO Facebook page (What about young people?). Also your submission will play in a video montage in the Cinema room during the Forum.  In order to do this we ask you to send:

  • Your video file (not link)
  • For confirmation, provide your full name, age and nationality

In case you’re wondering, the winners of the ILO video contest will be kept as a surprise for the Youth Employment Forum 23-25! Once the three winners have had the chance to present their videos, the videos will be published on the ILO website and Facebook page (What About Young People?).

Thank you very much for participating in the ILO video contest! We look forward in sharing your video to youth around the world!

Kind regards,

The Youth Employment Programme

LAUREL: Tu as a choisi a donner le sagesse au personnage qui vient du paysage et qui porte les vêtements traditionnels. Partagez plus sur tes motivations pour cette choix. Est-ce que tu as voulu faire une déclaration sur les normes de genre aussi?
TIDIANE: Lui, c’est mon grand frère et il n’a pas de travail donc je savais qu’il était le mieux placé pour restituer tous  ces sentiment des jeunes sénégalais qui sont dans la même situation que lui.Le problème dans nos pays est que le secteur primaire qui devait porter notre développement est reléguer au second plan et les jeunes qui habitent  dans ces régions sont obligés de venir dans les villes à la recherche de travail, on appel cela l’exode rurale alors que si l’état avait mis l’accent sur l’agriculture, la pêche et l’élevage cela ne serai pas arrivée. J’ai donné plus la parole à cet homme parce que les dirigeants pensent que ces gens ne savent pas ce dont ils ont besoin parce que la plus part d’entre-eux ne sont jamais aller l’école donc ils doivent écouter et appliquer les politiques des intellectuels qui sont complétement déconnecter des réalités du terrain.Alors j’ai fais du sunukaddu, il faut que les principales concernés c’est à dire les jeunes puissent dire de quoi ils ont besoin.
LAUREL: You chose to give the wisdom to the person who comes from the countryside and wears traditional clothes. Share more on your motivations for that choice. Did you also want to make a statement on norms for this type of person?
TIDIANE: Him, he’s my big brother and he doesn’t have a job, so I knew that he was the best suited to voice all of the sentiments of young Senegalese who are in the same situation as he is. The problem in our country is that the sector that most needs development is relegated to the second tier, and the youths who live in these regions are obligated to leave their villages and look for work [in the big cities] — we call that the rural exodus. If the state focused on agriculture, fishing, and raising livestock, then this wouldn’t happen. I’ve given voice to this man because [the nation’s] leaders think that the [common] people don’t know what they need since the majority of [these common people] have never gone to school. So, [the leaders] think that they should listen to and apply the policies of intellectuals [instead of the hardworking Senegalese, even though the intellectuals are people] who are completely disconnected from realities on the ground. That’s why I do Sunukaddu, because its main principle is that youths [know and] can say what they need.

LAUREL: Quels roles ont-t-ils jouent tes experiences avec RAES (Sunukaddu, Clic Info Ado, etc) dans la realisation de ce projet?
TIDIANE: Beaucoup, j’ai fait preuve de conscience sociale pour pouvoir écrire le scénario, j’ai utiliser intelligence collective pour réaliser le film et je suis entrain de faire du réseautage pour que plus de monde puisse accéder au monde et le partager.
LAUREL: What roles did your experiences with RAES (such as youth programs Sunukaddu, Clic Info Ado, etc) play in the direction of this project?
TIDIANE: A lot. I showcased social awareness in being able to write the script, I used collective intelligence to direct the film, and I’m in the middle of networking so that more people in the world can have access to this film and share it.

LAUREL: Decrivez tes reves: 1) pour ce film; 2) pour la question d’acces a l’emploi; 3) pour les jeunes de Senegal; 4) pour ta carriere/vie.
TIDIANE: Il y a un grand penseur américain du nom de John Barth qui disait que : Ce n’est parce que tes rêves sont hors de porter que tu ne dois pas te donner les moyens de les atteindre.Mon rêve ce n’est pas de changer le monde, je sais que je ne pourrai pas mais je ferai de mon mieux pour aider le maximum de personne.Mon rêve est de voir ces jeunes se permettent d’avoir des rêves, de croire à l’Afrique .Mon rêve pour ce film est que les bailleurs qui aident nos pays puissent le voir et orienter les aides vers les populations surtout des zones rurales.Et cela les américains l’ont déjà fait avec le MCA (millenium challenge account) qui intervient dans les zones rurales.
Personnellement,  je rêve de faire de grands film, qui seront diffuser dans le monde entiers parce que je pense que nous avons beaucoup de chose à partager avec le reste du monde .
Et pour ma vie de raconter une femme qui partages les mêmes rêves que moi, les rêves d’un monde meilleur ou toutes les personnes auront des rêves.
LAUREL: Describe your dreams: 1) for this film; 2) for the question of access to employment; 3) for youths in Senegal; 4) for your career/life.
TIDIANE: There’s a great American thinker named John Barth who said that, Just because your dreams are beyond your grasp doesn’t mean that you don’t have the means to attain them. My dream isn’t to change the world, I know that I can’t, but I will do my best to help the most people possible. My dream is to see that youths can realize their dreams, can believe in Africa. My dream for this film is that the donors who help our country can see it and direct their aid towards certain populations, especially in rural zones. And that’s what the Americans already did with the MCA (Millennium Challenge Account) that goes to rural zones. Personally, I dream of making great films that will be distributed around the whole world because I believe that we have a lot to share with the rest of the world. And, for my life, [I want] to meet a woman who shares the same dreams as me, dreams of a better world where everyone will realize their dreams.

To say that I feel the utmost respect for Tidiane Thiang is a woeful understatement.

He is a great filmmaker…

a great teacher…

and a great human being.

It is my honor to have made Tidiane’s acquaintance and to follow his brilliant trailblazing from afar.

Tidiane, you are an inspiration. Thank you.

 

P.S. An email from Tidiane, dated February 6, 2012

Je pense que l’école dans laquelle vous avez expérimenté le projet [Robert F. Kennedy Community Schools in Los Angeles] à les
mêmes caractéristiques que la plus part des écoles aux Sénégal.Les jeunes
quittent l’école très tôt au Sénégal parce qu’ils n’aimes pas le cadre
formel dans lequel ils sont confiné, alors ils préfèrent allez dans le
secteur informel pour apprendre des métiers artisanaux ou devenir des
vendeurs à la sauvette dans les rues de Dakar.  Dans les salles
informatiques des écoles au Sénégal, ont interdit aux jeunes aussi d’aller
dans les réseaux sociaux comme Facebook est cela a entrainer une baisse de
la fréquentation les salles informatiques.Je pense qu’il faut réfléchir
sur comment adapter les nouveaux technologies à l’éducation formel.Les
jeunes sont de plus en plus exigent et adapter leurs besoins au secteur
formel sera le pari des années à venir.C’est dommage qu’avec le taux
échantillonnage faible que vous avez, une évaluation fiable n’a pas pu
être fait mais ça serai intéressant de tester cette approche novateur sur
beaucoup plus de jeunes et voir l’impact.
Je pense que nous allons intégrer dans nos prochaines sessions de
formation les 4c(connexion-création-collaboration-circulation) je trouve
que c’est très intéressant de renforcer la culture participative mais
surtout en se basant sur le ORID qui incite les jeunes à discuter .
C’est très gentil à toi de partager cette expérience parce qu’elle nous
ouvre d’autre perspective d’exploration local avec des jeunes de condition
sociale similaire mais de culture différente.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

  By laurelfelt | September 9, 2011 - 10:39 am | ,
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Cross-cultural Workshops in Participatory Learning

From my own living room to Mumbai’s World Trade Center, from a conference of international scholars to a series of hands-on workshops with Los Angeles Unified School District (LAUSD) teachers, Summer 2011 tackled the themes of participatory learning and digital youth from multiple angles.

My summer was book-ended with my qualifying examinations (writing from May 13-May 23, defending on August 25). My areas of scholarship examined the theoretical elements and associated practices required for productive educational interventions: participation and play; narrative; empathy; and positive deviance.

Immediately upon finishing my papers, I jetted to Boston for the 61st Annual International Communication Association Annual Conference. Highlights included participating in the intellectually stimulating, networking-rich preconference “Media, child health, and wellbeing: Setting the research agenda,” supporting the elevation of the Children, Adolescents, and the Media Special Interest Group to Division status, and interacting with the diverse attendees — junior and senior scholars, industry professionals, domestic and foreign, from big cities and small towns.

I also had the opportunity to live in Mumbai, India, for a month, co-teaching the hands-on, inquiry-rich Expanding Minds Program. In the morning, five- to seven-year-olds and, in the afternoon, seven- to nine-year-olds engaged with peers and open-ended materials to play, think, and build. Each week’s participants investigated a different theme: ancient art; toy engineering; and the science of flight. We documented students’ learning and engaged in lively discussions about the relative value of process vs. product. Cultural similarities and differences were also a site of discovery and reflection.

For a month, I also worked on Project New Media Literacy’s/Participatory Learning and You!’s Summer Sandbox. Our central goal is identifying and creating educational practices that will prepare teachers and students to become full and active participants in the new digital culture. I co-taught two week-long sessions in participatory learning, introducing LAUSD teachers to: the meaning of participatory culture; the characteristics of participatory learning; means of incorporating tools and toys as inspiration and bridges into lesson-planning and learning experiences; various ways to encounter and master technology; and specific technologies conducive to participatory learning. We gathered data via fieldnotes, participants’ products, and video documentation, and will continue to work with certain teachers during the school year.

Throughout the summer, I also submitted drafts of a book chapter entitled “Our Voice: Public Health and Youths’ Communication for Social Change in Senegal,” which will be published in forthcoming volume African Childhoods: Survival, Education, and Peace-building in the Youngest Continent. This chapter explains the educational intervention/research I conducted last summer in Dakar, Senegal.

I blogged about my experiences at laurelfelt.org/blog. Comments welcome!

Decrescendo

  By laurelfelt | July 18, 2011 - 3:03 am | ,
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Our experience had begun with trumpeted fanfare, a cacophony of greeting and questioning and learning and exploring. The unknown — three weeks’ worth -– stood before us, whoever we were – the kids, my recently met colleagues, myself in this role, all of us together. The roar was deafening.

Our last day slipped away quietly, quiet and quieter still. Fewer children than usual attended the morning session due to one family’s vacation; the independent, engrossing activities were familiar to our group of young friends; exhaustion subtly subdued the volume of my speech. I supervised one aspect of the post-test, an assessment whose validity we doubted as paper airplane-folding was neither taught explicitly nor affected necessarily by enriched aerodynamic understandings. A different indicator should be used to demonstrate programmatic impact – but which? The children filled out pre- and post-intervention forms in which they were asked “how do things fly?” While this question is more apt, the data are murky. The younger children’s drawings require (subjective) coding and accounting for the difficulty with which children comprehended this query; the older children’s words were liberally shared amongst themselves – a tactful way to say plagiarized. What do we really want to know, anyway? Was the point of this program to deeply teach science, or to introduce the scientific process, or to stimulate curiosity, or to build community, or to entertain? What are we practicing, what are we preaching, and what are we measuring and passing off as proof?

As Emily and Malika prepared our room for this session’s final Open House, setting up stations where parents could examine the past week’s science experiments, I channeled the children’s energy through mellow imagination and music. We began with “Down by the Bay,” a song-game that requires volunteers to supply a silly rhyme. This led into a round of “Miss Laurel Says,” from which we transitioned into a guided imagery experience in which all of the children were instructed to array their bodies as though they were sleeping on the floor of the ocean. One-by-one, they were invited to recount their dreams. Then we sang “Little Cabin in the Wood,” a song-game that has children use their hands, hum verses progressively and, crucially, focus for at least five solid minutes. From there, we revisited “Aiken Drum,” a song-game in which volunteers suggest the composition of this man (e.g., his teeth were made of corn).

When the parents finally arrived, I spoke about our philosophy of learning through play and narrated the slideshow of classroom snapshots. Then their children shepherded them through our classroom, demonstrating experiments and explaining, to the extent that their comprehension allowed, why larger parachutes stayed aloft longer/bigger balloons shot forward faster and further/etc. I tried to speak to every parent in attendance, praising and sharing anecdotes about their children. They slipped away unobtrusively, as I struggled to rethread the balloon rocket or detach the balloon helicopter. And then they were gone. It was over.

Our lunchtime lull was placid – easy conversation over homemade favorites from Vasundhara’s mother, a trip to the nearby strip mall and return to our apartment to deposit Emily’s newly acquired purchase. I brushed my teeth. We walked back to the World Trade Center, no frantic setup required, no cramming of science lore, no drafting of a daily newsletter.

The afternoon was similar to the morning – more futile airplane folding, more focused concentration among the kids. I traded my soothing tones for slaphappy giggles and led the group in theater games – “What Are You Doing?” and “Dr. Know-It-All.” To my delight, the children let go of hesitation/overcogitation and let their words spontaneously flow. Trust.

With the parents’ arrival, I again rattled off my spiel about the value of learning through play, then facilitated the children’s narration of our slides. They raised their hands to answer my questions, fill in missing words, demystify photographs. I tried to call on them equally, all of us showing off in front of the parents. Masterful – that was the students’ command of scientific principles and vocabulary. How ’bout that?

Afterward, parents related their children’s enjoyment of the program, the extent to which they had brought their learning home for discussion and recreation. One child, a mother confided, had sent the maid out for plastic bags and strings so that he could build and drop parachutes off his upper bunkbed.

“Goodnight and thank you, miss,” one of our favorite students said for the last time. “Goodnight and thank you, sir,” I replied.

Shoeless, a team of laborers deconstructed our classroom and carted it all away. We teachers lamely offered to help, knowing that heavy lifting was forbidden and sophisticated organizing was illogical, for soon we would be carted away too, and then who would know where to find the pingpong balls? I’d documented our classroom’s emergence but let it dissolve anonymously. The room’s dividers were pushed back and the space that had defined 10 hours of my day, for 3 weeks of my life, was swallowed up by the expanse from which it had emerged.

Wearily, unceremoniously, we walked out, neither sentimental nor celebratory. But Emily observed, “It will take them years to get out the glitter.”

I hope so.

Anticipation

  By laurelfelt | July 14, 2011 - 8:24 pm |
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Terrorism struck Mumbai yesterday evening, first time since the November 2008 incident in which “10 terrorists laid siege to the city for 60 hours, targeting two luxury hotels, a Jewish center and a busy train station” (TNN, 2011). In this case, three IEDs were detonated, one in each of the following financial/commercial areas: Opera House; Dadar; Zaveri Bazaar. Officials report that the explosions occurred between 6:50 and 7 pm on Wednesday, July 13.

Blackberry messages alerted our coworkers of the incident as we concluded class around 7 pm. We scrapped our plans to catch a screening of “Delhi Belly” and instead walked home, wondering whether pedestrians’ behaviors seemed different, or if we were just regarding pedestrians’ behaviors with different eyes. Do people seem more on edge? Emily asked. Besides the inextricability of our own affected lenses, there was also the confounding variable of incipient rain, which could make anyone anxious. Impossible to tell, I concluded. And we continued heading for cover.

For a couple of Americans, going to work at the World Trade Center less than 24 hours after financially-targeted terrorism has rocked the city… well, it’s somewhat bizarre, to put it mildly. We dodged puddles as monsoon conditions (really just rain), for the first time since our arrival, complicated our morning commute. No time was lost in security, however — that is, no extra time. As always, we opened our bags for two security personnel upon entering the World Trade Center compound at Gate 4. Inside Center 1, we walked past security guards, put our bags on the metal detector’s conveyor belt, walked through the scanner, and continued on our way. No additional personnel were detailed, no extraordinary procedures were invoked. We waited for an up elevator amid an average-sized crowd of businessmen, and climbed aboard after an average-length interval had elapsed. Business as usual. First floor. Excuse us. We’ve got to go teach five-year-olds how to fly.

As we set up the classroom, Emily asked Malika what to expect from the kids. Will they be upset about the situation? she inquired. Malika assured us that this sort of thing was common enough, and parents wouldn’t be too shaken by it as to produce a tense atmosphere at home. How should we talk about all of this with them? Emily persisted. Malika recommended saying as little as possible. We braced ourselves for what was to come (and prepared our curriculum — it was still another day of demystifying lift and air pressure). Vasundhara had contacted parents the previous night, trying to ascertain whether enough parents would send their children today in order to justify our session. Only four children were definite No’s — but in the end, out of a class of 14 youngsters, only four children were definite Yes’s. With three teachers and a cleaning-oriented aide… those are some ratios.

And the first thing that those attendees did upon entry was head to the block area, talk of terrorism on their lips.

CHILD 1: There’s a bomb in India.
CHILD 2: In Opera House.
CHILD 1: Let’s build Opera House.
CHILD 3: I saw it on the news channel.
CHILD 2: All of the others are scared of the bomb. The three of us will go to a single table.

It was textbook.

I jotted their dialogue and supported their efforts to build Opera House, a fire brigade, a helipad, my house, a plane, and a birthday cake with candles. They talked about emergency rescue and superheroes, with mentions of the bomb periodically peppering their discourse. It was difficult to determine the extent to which the pretend phone calls reporting fire and simulated superhero combat was influenced by current events — both play scenarios are daily staples, especially for one special needs child. As a special treat, teachers delighted students with some chasing and full body tickling. Maybe we all needed to blow off a little steam.

We wrapped up our extended session in the block area and, once again, our students noticed that there were only four little pairs of hands to assist in classroom activities.

CHILD 2: All four of us, our mothers didn’t get scared.
CHILD 3: My mother got scared but my father didn’t get scared.

I read them a story during snack, a tale they found humorous (thank goodness, not ominous) about an inventor who creates robots that run amok and destroy his workshop. We showed them videos of flying creatures, which surprisingly failed to captivate their fascination. We hoped that our special needs friend would thrive in this less-stimulating environment but he still struggled to control his impulses and focus on curriculum. We charted the four forces and the relationship between airfoils and air pressure before singing the children goodbye, and it seemed as though at least two of the kids got it. Whether they’ll be able to speak about it to their parents (who may or not be product-oriented, may or may not be scared) I cannot say.

Malika ordered us McDonald’s for lunch and we waited for its delivery… and waited… and waited. Several phone calls to various managers didn’t seem to produce results. Only the language of financial violence — threat to not pay for the food — prompted a return call from a middleman who apologized and said, if Malika did not pay, the money would be pulled from his own shallow pocket. An hour and 15 minutes after its specified delivery time, the food arrived, and Malika got through to corporate, settling the matter so that neither she nor this poor, powerless employee would have to pay.

We weren’t sure what would manifest in the afternoon. Parents had said they were sending their kids but we’d heard a similar tune the previous night. The artist who had agreed to ply our hands with mehndi canceled. Malika left for her appointment. We planned an itinerary that would allow Emily and me to work together — more practical considering our staffing and possible low numbers.

Everyone showed.

The afternoon flowed smoothly, alternating between games and serious science. We’d made it through our last full day of instruction, as Friday is divided — one quarter curriculum, one quarter preparation, one half Open House. Emily and I bought snacks for our Bollywood movie night at home with Malika, who wound up canceling. We drank the wine ourselves and let the Gilmore Girls, well-known friends to Emily and me both, engage in their fast-talking banter as we wrote the final newsletter and commented on this week’s student journals.

Tomorrow is our last day of EMP, and not a city-wide holiday as yesterday’s unsubstantiated rumors had alleged. Emily has said that teaching is improv — you have to embrace the unexpected and adjust without getting bent out of shape. This time last week, I was recovering from a fever and stomach bug; this time next week, I’ll be back in Glenview — that is, if all goes according to plan.

I can’t conclusively know what’s coming next, and that’s the point of some of the education reform arguments I’ve read and happen to have made myself. Since we live in a world of constant change, all we can do is hone our agility, enhance our ability to react to what comes… and perhaps develop our serenity as we lie in anticipation, practice our acceptance of the (inevitable) unexpected.

Control

  By laurelfelt | July 8, 2011 - 4:19 am |
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Who’s in charge? My heart, my mind, my body? Me, my coteachers, my students? My digestion, my metabolism? My aspirations, my obligations? Who decides? To what extent have I been properly exercising good judgment vs. unworthily surrendering my authority vs. unproductively taking a stand? Where do I distinguish between flow-going, dish-ragging, and failing?

I’ve been thinking about symbiosis and its delicate balance:

  • Respecting signals vs. pushing through the pain
  • Avoiding probable disaster vs. risking unlikely triumph
  • Saving steam for the return trip vs. betting all your chips on today
  • Allowing companions wiggle room vs. setting and sticking to limits
  • Ensuring the good of the group vs. tending to the needs of the few
  • Stepping up vs. stepping back
  • Listening vs. speaking
  • Making the foreign familiar vs. making the familiar foreign…

A little bit of both! declares the sage. Of course, everything in moderation. But when you come down to individual choices, when do you swing thisa-way and when do you veer thatta-way? Does it matter little since it all comes even in the wash — I’ll pay/decide/like it/lump it this time, it’s your turn next time, or do you conscientiously re-calibrate with each endeavor — half for you and half for me?

I’ve been equally engaging both options — sometimes letting it ride, sometimes parsing it out. But rather than wise alternation, I wonder whether this is torpid free-riding. Whatever you say… whatever you say…

Who is the who who says? My heart, my mind, my body? Me, my coteachers, my students? My digestion, my metabolism? My aspirations, my obligations? As I turn over what I’ve done, what to do, and how to do it, I pingpong among these options. I want to be responsible.

My hands are getting dirty; but am I whole-heartedly dirtying my hands?