MB Matthews: Street Smarts

Union Bashing

2010-03-13T00:51:00.007-05:00

I have always respected Crain's Cleveland Business, the weekly business publication for NorthEast Ohio, so much in fact, I even have a subscription to their daily email newsletter.

However, today I read a post on Crain's blog by editor Brian Tucker that really got me riled. At first I growled, then I reread it and cursed. After reading it yet again, I needed to respond, so I started writing... and writing... and writing.

When I finished writing I was still so annoyed that I published my comment before adding my signature. My efforts are published on their site anonymously, but I do not want to hide behind my computer screen, so I will repost the offending editorial and my response here:

Now that's the ticket

"Its good that the Cleveland school board didn't buy into a counterproposal by some teachers from the underperforming East High School that Superintendent Gene Sanders wants to close.

While it might be intriguing to have half the building be a charter school and the other a community center, that concept would never work with a unionized teaching staff.

There are plenty of examples of bad charter schools, and our community and state should close them as fast as possible. But the good ones, such as Cleveland's E-Prep, succeed in large part because the teachers aren't unionized.

The teachers are there because they're driven to succeed as educators. They don't balk at the longer school days and years. And if they don't do a good job, they are replaced — quickly — by empowered administrators.

Plenty has been written about how it is next to impossible to remove a teacher in a unionized setting. That's good for the union and especially good for the mediocre-to-average teachers; but it's horrible for students, parents and our community as a whole."

Mr. Tucker, I take issue with your pronouncement that unions are a primary impediment to a school’s success, as well as the implication that the elimination of the teacher’s union would improve education in the city of Cleveland.

When I was a student, I was taught two very important lessons. The first by my science teacher, Sr. Immaculata, ”Do your research”. The next from my geometry teacher, Sister Clarissa, “You need to apply logic if you want to find the best answer”.

I would like to start with a bit of logic.

If the presence of a teacher’s union in a school will inhibit a school’s success, than it would follow that most unionized schools would be failing schools. Yet, right here in Cuyahoga County we have some of the top ranked schools in the United States, staffed by union teachers, ie. Chagrin Falls, Solon, Bay Village, Cuyahoga Falls, and even the Cleveland School of the Arts (surprisingly, staffed by members of the CTU). Therefore, one can infer that teacher's unions don’t create failure.

Now, let’s take a look at some of the actual differences between successful schools and failing schools.

All but one of the schools mentioned above are suburban schools where a majority of students come from families with above average incomes. Studies have shown that a greater percentage of children who come from a higher socioeconomic background will achieve academic success at significantly higher levels than children living in poverty, which explains why Chagrin Falls, Solon, etc., have a much better success rate than CMSD’s East or South High Schools. Yet, The Cleveland School of the Arts, John Hay High School, and E-Prep have student bodies whose families represent the opposite end of the economic demographic. Having eliminated unions and family finance as the cause of school failure, what other differences are there?

This is where we have to do some research.

How are students admitted?
At E-prep, students AND parents must attend a mandatory open house, parent orientation, and student orientation. At CSA, students must participate in a 2-3 hour audition with a parent, and submit a letter of recommendation from a teacher in their selected discipline. At John Hay, students must have a 3.0 GPA to apply, and submit 4 evaluation forms from current teachers. At East High and South High students register by showing up, walking up to the counter at the main office with an adult, and filling out as much of the paper work as they can.

E-prep maintains a zero-tolerance policy regarding their student code of conduct. The consequence for non-compliance is dismissal. Students who cannot maintain good grades or have problems with behavior at CSA and John Hay will be transferred back to the student’s home school, which might be East or even South High School. What happens to students who misbehave at East, South, Lincoln West, or any other CMSD neighborhood school? Consequences range from detentions to 1-10 day suspensions for most conduct issues. Really serious incidents (meaning behavior that would be classified as criminal in the adult realm) are referred to a disciplinary board for an expulsion hearing. Expulsions are typically more than 10 days, not to exceed 80 days. Only a very few offenses are eligible for permanent expulsion: murder, attempted murder, drug trafficking, and rape.

Given these facts, one could reasonably conclude that the key to effective schools in low income neighborhoods would be mandated parental involvement, careful screening of prospective students, and strictly enforced codes of conduct, including low to zero tolerance for infractions.

Doomed to failure are the schools which, by law, must educate all children, including the sociopaths, addicts, gangbangers, those suffering from serious (and not so serious) mental illnesses, as well as the kids who have been raised by television, or whose parents are completely uncaring, absent, or mentally incompetent. These are the kids who can’t get into the specialized magnet schools or the outstanding charter schools. There is no ROI for the taxpayers to give kids like these the extra help they need. These are the children who, despite the federal mandate, have been left behind. For many of them, what lies ahead is a future in the justice system. While we close down schools, this country continues to build prisons, and those are funded without voting on a levy.

It is much more convenient (and politically advantageous) to point the finger of blame at inner-city teacher's unions than to create the kind of specialized schools that will meet the needs of the growing numbers of damaged children that come from our poorest neighborhoods.

I started this blog back in 2004 in response to those people who were quick to criticize Cleveland teachers. As the economy declined, those numbers have grown. Every article I read about the schools on Cleveland.com lately is followed by hateful commentary blaming the teachers for all the problems of the district, and often blaming unions in general for the entire economic crisis.

"Get rid of the unions!"

"Fire the teachers!"

"Scrap the schools!"

"Bulldoze the neighborhoods!"

When did so many Clevelanders become so calloused, so bitter, so angry?

What is happening to my city?

Imagining Innovative Education

2010-02-10T10:04:00.009-05:00

"2014."

Our young principal's face was serious as he addressed the group of department chairs gathered in the high school media center.

"2014 is the year that the district plans to open the new Max Hayes Career and Technical High School, and I have been told that the new school WILL NOT be a traditional high school. The district is looking to make this school a flagship of innovation in career and technical education, and anyone who wants to be a part of the new Max Hayes needs to begin rethinking how we educate high school students to work in the trades."

The expressions around the table ranged from bewildered to anxious; from suspicious, to thoughtful. Peering over her glasses, one district veteran spoke up, "What exactly do they mean by the term 'innovative'?"

"As I understand it," he answered, "they are looking for new approaches in everything. New curriculum, new collaborations, new scheduling, a new calendar... We can rethink anything and everything. For example, I'd like to use new technology to take attendance. We could have kids sign in with a fingerprint. The school will remain a comprehensive high school, but what if we could incorporate the academics into the trade classes? Or what if the trade students ran small businesses out of the school?"

"What a fabulous opportunity," I thought. Aloud I asked, "What are the non-negotiables? Are there legal constraints we need to keep in mind? You know things like OCEA?"

"The students will still have to pass the OGT."

For over a week now the possibilities swirled through my mind like the powdery snow lifted in the wind eddies just outside the doorway.

What would an innovative career tech school look like?

I imagine a green building, one that utilizes lots of new technology. I'm not talking about plopping a few solar panels on a rooftop. No, I would envision a building that not only incorporates the technology, but whose design shouts sustainability. The architecture should scream "GREEN".

Urban wind generators would be installed, like modern sculpture, on a green roof, whose vegetation becomes an outdoor classroom for botany lessons, and is maintained by students who might be learning the roofing trade or landscaping. Large solar panels would become canopies for covered walkways and bus shelters.

This new innovative school will not be a college preparatory program. This is career tech, and we are training the workforce of the twenty-first century. What will they need to know? What would an innovative high school look like for students who are NOT college bound?

I asked the question of my family and my friends. I even posted it on face book. The answers were remarkable:

"The school needs more than lip-service from local business. Develop working partnerships. Bring the professionals into the classrooms for workshops."

"(Teach the) restoration of horticulture, agriculture, manufacturing, CAD, IT and home economics curricula... probably more.
Learn to sew, grow, cook, plumb, build and repair mechanical things, use web tools."

"The future is about sustainability. Teach the students how to install and maintain solar panels, geothermal systems, and wind generators. Teach them how to work on electric cars, new diesel, and fuel cells. Have your neighbors at the Great Lakes Brewery teach them about engines that use recycled cooking oil, and how to run a zero waste business."

"Use the CNC mills and lathes to run production. Have a WIRENET partner outsource a small job to the students, and let them have the experience and satisfaction of manufacturing a real product."

"Let the building construction students rehab some of the thousands of abandoned houses in Cleveland."

"Make sure the students understand the business end of business. Use math classes to teach about finance, loans, interest, and credit. Teach them how to fill out purchase orders, write business letters, and correspond professionally. Teach courtesy."

"Do you know how many young people get fired from their first few jobs for not coming to work on time, or worse yet, not showing up at all... no notice... no phone call? Employers expect punctuality. A school that prepares kids for jobs needs to insist on attendance and punctuality."

"They could have the kids tear down all those school buildings that they want to close and recycle the materials before they rot."

"In the real world, companies drug test their employees. What if the students had to pass a drug test to work in the shops?"

"Don't just teach the kids a trade, teach them how to make money. Teach them how to market their skills. Teach them self-reliance."

"Make the new school a real showcase. Design it so that visitors can tour the building and observe the classes through windows that look down on the shop floors. Include a state of the art auditorium so you can bring in speakers, not just for the students, but also hold programs in the evening for the community. The suburbs open up their schools as community centers in the evening, why can't Cleveland do that for its residents? The community would support the schools if they were valuable, if they were accessible, to the whole community."

I would be interested to hear more ideas. Please post your thoughts and I'll make sure to pass them along to the people in charge of gathering community input. Will any of the real decision makers actually pay attention...? Well, one can always hope.

November

2009-11-16T23:15:00.002-05:00

It is November in Cleveland. Already.

A few short weeks ago the world was brilliant with the blazing hues of maple, ash, and oak trees, transforming the shady side-streets of quiet city neighborhoods into festive pathways of scarlet, gold, and orange. The sky was blue and the air was crisp. The excitement of a new school year and a fresh start held forth the promise that anything was possible.

And now it is November.

The dark nights come early, and the timid mornings begin late. I look up at the skeletal branches of trees, then down to the brown leaves blowing across the gray asphalt. Gray has become the predominate color of the city; gray streets, gray buildings, gray sky, gray moods. The first quarter report cards have been sent home, and students who couldn't make the grade have been sent packing. The honeymoon of a new beginning is over, reality made her entrance, and the long haul has begun.

It has been a mad rush kind of school year for me thus far. In typical CMSD style, my student rosters continue to change, with two new boys added to my eleventh period class just this week. I have a full schedule teaching 6 periods a day, with one brand new course; a digital photography class.

After serving more than twenty years in the district, I was not surprised by the fact I would be teaching a class for which the school has no textbooks or equipment. So, for this first year, each student must bring in their own camera, and I stay a jump or two ahead of the kids, designing the projects and curriculum as the class progresses. This elective course is an experimental pilot, and I feel pretty good about the outcomes so far. We've been able to schedule several speakers and a couple of field trips. The staff from the educational non-profit, Facing History and Ourselves, has been extremely helpful in working with us to connect art with social justice issues, history, and photo journalism. The theme we decided on for the school year is "Finding Our Voices; Telling Our Stories". The class is currently working on Life Magazine style photo-essays dealing with neighborhood landmarks and community. I would like to find a public space, or neighborhood gallery, to exhibit the work in the spring. If anyone has a suggestion, please, please, let me know.

Contributing to my manic schedule this year are a couple of new responsibilities. I applied for, and was admitted to, the district's new PAR (Peer Assistance and Review) program. Two young teachers, from other buildings in the district, have been assigned as my "mentees". For a semester I will serve as their advisor. My task is to help them with the challenges that face so many teachers when they are beginning their careers. I get to spend time in their classrooms, listening, observing, and answering questions. Together we will talk, set goals, plan, and try new strategies. I wish there was a program like this around when I was a rookie. All of my lessons were learned the hard way.

The PAR program is a collaborative effort between the district administration and the Teachers Union to address the issues of teacher quality, retention, and professional development. It is relatively new to Cleveland, and is only being implemented in a few other school districts nationwide. I will share my thoughts on the effectiveness of the program (with respect to confidentiality ) in future posts.

On First Days, Fresh Starts, and New Images

2009-08-30T06:33:00.009-05:00

Even for those of us who have lasted long enough in the education trenches to bear the moniker of 'Seasoned Veteran', the first day back to school is still anticipated with a bit of trepidation, along with the excitement of a fresh start. Driving along the Shoreway early Thursday morning I wondered,

"Who will I meet this year?"

Over the past 28 years of 'first days', I have met thousands of young men and women.

As I taught them new concepts, they enriched my life. So many made me laugh, some tested my patience, a few even broke my heart. Most eventually graduated to go on to jobs or college. They became hard workers, good parents, and successful business people. A good number became artists, and an admirable number became teachers. I've sent quite a few of my students off to the armed forces. Some made careers in the military, others have returned from war physically and/or emotionally scarred.

I see my former pupils' names in the newspaper, or on the internet, in the business or society pages, occasionally in the obituaries, and more often than I care to admit, in the police blotter. I've seen their faces on the walls of the post office featured on the FBI's most wanted posters, found them listed in the sheriff's sex offenders updates, and on prison web pages. I've taught killers, gangsters, rapists, bank robbers and con-artists.

And I've also taught the victims.

This week I stood at the door to my classroom and smiled as I waited for the students to find their way to my classroom at the end of the long corridor. Freshly printed schedules in hand, their eyes scanned the walls for room numbers.

"Is this room 356?"

"Yes, you found it!"

Some of the students hurried in, too shy to make eye contact. The cool kids strolled in slowly, sizing up the seating arrangement. The gregarious ones started the conversation before they crossed the threshold.

"Finally, I get to take art! I loved my art teacher in 7th grade! We made these sculptures out of wire... it was so cool! Are we going to make sculpture in this class? I draw all the time when I'm bored. Do you want to see my drawings? I'll bring them in tomorrow."

This year, for the first time, the students are required to wear a uniform: solid blue or white collared shirts, black, blue, or khaki dress pants with belts and shirts tucked in. Before the start of homeroom, I had to send a couple of boys back downstairs for being out of uniform.

"Aw... Come on, let us stay. You can be the cool teacher and not follow the rules."

Laughing I retorted, "I don't need you to think I'm cool. I need to teach you your colors. Go on downstairs and learn what blue and white look like."

I've learned over the years you can pretty much get most kids to do what you ask if you smile, even kick them out of class without all of the usual drama. The two non-compliant juniors headed back downstairs, one of them turned around and mouthed a silent "Please?"

I waved good-bye.

Friday I had a full class, everyone in uniform.

The students this year seem a little different from last year, and a whole lot different from the kids who roamed the halls back in 1998, the year I transferred to Max Hayes from Garrett Morgan Cleveland School of Science.

Back in the 90's, Max Hayes was the School of Last Resort in the city of Cleveland. Principals from the regular neighborhood high schools would send their most incorrigible teenagers to the vocational school where, hopefully, they might find something else to do with their hands besides fighting, stealing, or groping.

When I taught at the School of Science a few blocks away, the security guards in that building had to be on special alert for the thugs from Max Hayes who regularly walked into the school to beat up the nerdy science students.

Well, it is ten years and three principals later. Students must now pass a rigorous screening process to be admitted , and sign an academic and behavioral contract to stay enrolled. Vocational classes have evolved into technical programs. The "shop rats" and "grease monkeys" were replaced with computer programers and engineering students.

Vo-ed has become STEM.

Finally, I will share with you a comment made by a fellow teacher who just transferred to Max Hayes this week after spending most of his career teaching English at Glenville High School on Cleveland's east side:

"I can't believe it! I went through the whole day without having to tell anyone to be quiet. Everyone was paying attention. There were no kids walking the halls in between classes. I think I must have died and gone to heaven."

Now, who says that the Cleveland schools are beyond help?

The dysfunction of the public school system did not happen overnight. The issues are complex — social, economic, and political. There is no silver bullet, no quick fix. The solution reminds me of an old joke that goes something like this:

How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.

If Max Hayes can reinvent itself, perhaps there is still hope for the rest of Cleveland.

Adding Color to Cleveland Walls

2009-08-16T08:48:00.003-05:00

Last week I finally stopped by the Recreation Center at John F. Kennedy High School on Cleveland's southeast side, to view the mural being painted this summer by neighborhood teenagers.

The project is part of the Mural My Neighborhood program sponsored by the City of Cleveland's Parks and Recreation Department.

Each summer this program teams young Cleveland artists with professional muralists, community leaders, and business owners to create beautiful, uplifting murals in two different wards. The murals depict civic pride, vibrant city life, and visions of hope.

From the Mural My Neighborhood Brochure

For the past several years, Chris Lucciani, the director of Cleveland's Bereau of Cultural Arts has visited my Classes at Max Hayes to recruit students for this program. The kids need to apply for the a spot 0n the team, submit a portfolio of their artwork, and come in for an interview. If they complete the entire project, they will be rewarded with a stipend at the end of the program. This year I had 3 of my students participating.

Each Summer there are two mural sites, one on the East side of the city and the other on the West side. Depending on the location and the condition of the walls, the murals may be painted either directly at the site or on panels off-site, to be installed on the building when completed. The JFK Rec. Center had a wonderful smooth concrete wall, which made for a perfect painting surface. No scaffolds were required either, as the building was only one story.

John Troxell, the artist working with the students on this project, has quite a legacy of murals; not only in the city of Cleveland, but nation-wide. His most recent public work is the 350 foot long Mill Run Trail mural, the city's largest. This was a project sponsored by Cleveland Public Art and can be viewed from Broadway Avenue in the Slavic Village neighborhood.

Here is a link to the Flickr photostream containing samples of more of John's artwork.

This final photo is a section of the JFK mural that, I understand, was completed by one of my most excellent art students at Max Hayes; Franchesca Brown. Great job kiddo!

Clean-up Crew

2009-07-20T08:17:00.006-05:00

"Hey MB! If you're not busy this morning you should come out here. We're working at a school that I think you would love. It's built like an old stone castle, covered in ivy ."

It was the third time this summer my friend and fellow teacher, Fran Brewka, had invited me to come out and take pictures of the buildings where he and his crew of about a dozen Max Hayes High School students were working. I was busy the first two times he called, but since I had no plans that Thursday morning, I grabbed my camera and headed out to East 40th and Quincy.

Like an ancient fortress rising above the vinyl clad residences of the revitalized Central neighborhood, the old Central High School (renamed Carl Lewis Stokes) stands, a looming stone monument to Franklin Roosevelt's Federal Works Program. While the students continued to clear the tangled masses of vegetation threatening to devour the structure, Fran offered a tour.

"Wow! Look at the craftsmanship... the architectural detail, the granite, the marble, the brass."

I reached out to run my fingers along the polished stone panels covering the lobby walls.

"Can you imagine what a building like this would cost these days? And yet, when this was built, the country was in the midst of the Great Depression." How ironic, I mused, it seems that as the nation's economy improved, the quality of our construction deteriorated.

"C'mon upstairs to the tower, you can get some pretty cool shots from up there."

The windows were so scratched and dirty I could barely see through the ivy. An open widow in the next room provided entry for the aggressive vines, a stunning view of Cleveland's skyline, and a great shot of a group of students gathering up debris.

This is the second season for the summer maintenance program, which has tripled in size since the district agreed to hire the first crew of Max Hayes students last year.

Three teams, headed by three different teachers, meet early each morning at the high school where busses take them to the various job sites at school buildings across the district. No one is late.

Each team has their particular specialties, depending in large part on the instructor's expertise. They repair floors, paint, lay tile, landscape... the list goes on and on. With more than eighty school buildings operating in the Cleveland Municipal School District, there is work enough for a score of crews.

The speed, care, and professionalism of the students have garnered compliments from head custodians across the district, CMSD administrators, the community, and even Mayor Frank Jackson.

At one site, the major difference between the professionally laid tile and the work done by the Max Hays students was the obvious superiority of the student work. When the building custodian marveled at the quality of the student's craftsmenship, the kids learned one of life's most valuable lessons; pride in a job well done.

Even people in the community are beginning to notice.

At one over-grown East-side school, passers-by commented that they had assumed the school was closed down until the Max Hayes crew came out to clear away the jungle of weeds and debris.

Fran chuckled as he related a story about the folks in one West-side neighborhood who wandered over to watch the activity, while the students began cleaning up the long neglected landscape of an elementary school. Apparently, inspired by all the hard-working teen-agers, or not wanting their homes to look shabby by comparison, when the neighbors returned to their respective garages, out came the lawn mowers, rakes, and hedge cutters!

Education, when extended beyond the walls of the classroom, becomes a far richer, truly valuable experience.

Max Hayes building construction teacher Jim Mulgrew has watched students who stagnated in their academic classes find their spark working in the shop. Mathematics, reading, and problem solving take on a new relevancy when applied on a job site. Jim began the Max Hayes summer work program last year as a natural extension to the learning that was happening each day in his department.

The many benefits of the program are obvious. The district gets much needed maintenance at bargain basement prices. Students get valuable job training, real work experience for their resumes, and a paycheck. They also gain some of the more subtle life lessons of pride and self-esteem, building new friendships, and teamwork.

When schools give their teachers the opportunity to innovate, wonderful things will happen.

Max Hayes Blows Glass.

2009-02-24T23:00:00.004-05:00

"I keep looking at your blog, and I see you haven't been writing."

"You know, I've been starting to go back into your archives to read some of your old stories, since there's nothing new."

"When are you going to post our pictures? You promised us you would put them online weeks ago."

Thank you my friends, students, and readers for gently nudging, reminding, and finally out and out nagging me. You make me feel wanted.
I've been neglecting this blog for more than a few weeks, and I beg your forgiveness, but honestly, I have been busy.

The school year is flying by, and the Max Hayes Art Club, especially, has been having a lot of fun this winter.
From paint to pastels to play-dough, my students experimented with new techniques for classic materials and also reacquainted themselves with a sticky medium from their not-so-distant childhoods.

But as much as the kids enjoyed working in the studio at school, the real highlight of the past month was our trip to The Glass Studio on Superior Avenue one cold afternoon in February.

For the second year in a row, glass artist Mike Zelenka invited interested art students to learn glass blowing at the studio where he works in Cleveland's Mid-Town neighborhood. For many years prior, Mike demonstrated the ancient craft to visitors at Hale Farm and Village. These days, he and his colleagues teach classes and create beautiful works of art at their facility behind the Tyler building at East 30th and Superior.

Mike became part of the Max Hayes family last year, when he took over the Phys. Ed. classes while the former instructor was on an extended leave of absence. An athlete a well as an artist, he also coaches the school's tennis team. Last year Mike raised money for the team with a silent auction of art glass which he and several other artists donated to the school.

The students watched in wide-eyed amazement as Mike dipped a long metal pipe into a pot of glowing molten glass, and proceeded to blow a bubble as thin as cellophane and fragile as soap, that shattered into a thousand pieces with the slightest touch.

The next red hot glob became a bowl as he showed the students how the glass responded to centrifugal force.

Blowing glass transcends the typical art lesson to become a fully integrated experience; combining physics and chemistry with creativity, visual problem solving, and aesthetics.

Each student in our small group was able to take a turn creating their own glass piece. Step by step, one at a time, Mike talked them through the process. By the end of our visit, five colorful paper weights were slowly cooling in the annealer.

People spend an awful lot of time in schools sitting through lectures, copying information, memorizing lists, and regurgitating facts... and after just a few short years, the majority of that information (or at least the stuff we don't need to use or think about) is forgotten, or sent to the brain's biological version of the cyber-trash bin and buried.

The learning that sticks with a person for a lifetime are often experiences outside the classroom, like those my students had at the Glass Studio this winter. It's kind of ironic, the things I volunteer to do on my own time will probably have a greater positive impact on my student's lives than the mandated curriculum I am hired to teach.

Experiential learning is by far the most effective learning method. The phrase is becoming my mantra.

Many thanks to the generous folks at the Superior Glass Studio for welcoming the Max Hayes Art Club, and a very heartfelt Thank You to Mike Zelenka for sharing his knowledge, skill, and passion.
The Cleveland arts community is the BEST!

Check the sidebar for a slide show of more pictures.

The 200 Day School Year: Reactions From the Teachers' Lounge

2009-02-07T06:09:00.010-05:00

Last night I listened to Dick Feagler and his Friends on WVIZ discuss Governor Strickland's education plan for the state of Ohio, slated to be piloted in the Cleveland Municipal Schools. When Mr Feagler asked his panel's opinion of the proposed 200 day school year, all of his highly educated guests nodded in agreement. "Of course it is a GREAT idea!" "Some other countries have school years even longer than 200 days." "Another month of school makes sense. We need to prepare Ohio's children to compete in a global economy." "It's about time. After all, the current 180 day school calendar is outdated, being based on the needs of last century's agrarian society."

I noticed none of his guests were teachers.

The view from the people who work on the frontlines of education was substantially different.

As I sat with a small group of colleagues eating lunch in the teachers' lounge the day after the governor's State of the State address, one of them asked, "So did you hear Strickland wants to add another 20 days to the school year?"

One of the guys, who had two kids in college smiled and said,"Another month of work will equal an additional month of pay, right?"

"That's great," commented a young teacher with only a few years in the district, "but where is the money coming from? The school board is already talking about the possibility of hundreds of teacher lay-offs."

"Maybe they don't intend to increase our salaries, just extend the calendar."

Another teacher asked "How about all of the new teachers with bachelors' degrees who need to get their masters' degree to keep their license? Without the summer semester, when will they have time to take classes?"

"And when will we be able to take all the coursework we need to meet the No Child Left Behind mandate to stay "Highly Qualified'? You know businesses pay their employees tuition to upgrade their qualifications. We teachers have always had to foot the bill ourselves, but at least we had the time to do it. Now it looks like we won't get the compensation or the time."

I added, "I'm assuming all of the folks on the Governor's committee who came up with this recommendation work in air conditioned offices in July and August."

The rest of the group laughed. "I'll bet they never had to spend a single day sweltering in a 95 degree office, let alone shut up for hours in close quarters with 30 sweaty, complaining kids, in a room with one door and windows that don't open. Do they even realize that most schools in Cleveland have no air conditioning (except for maybe the administrators' offices) and our classroom windows are nailed shut for security reasons?"

"The district doesn't even provide us with fans. Teachers who need a fan have to bring in their own. On hot days I need at least three in my classroom just to feel some circulation."

"You get a few students in the class whose families don't have washing machines in their homes...Phew! Some of the kids can get pretty ripe on a hot day. A lot of the kids from poor families don't wash their school clothes on a regular basis. I feel embarrassed for them."

"And sorry for the rest of us!"

"It figures...the suburbs have new buildings with air conditioning, but they want to pilot the 200 day calendar in the decrepit schools of Cleveland. The politicians want a 21st century education implemented in 20th century facilities, and there's no money to fund it. "

"But if we complain, we are perceived as lazy, greedy and incompetent."

"The headlines, of course, will read, 'Cleveland Teachers Union Against School Reform'. "

"Sometimes it seems like we are being set-up to look like the bad guys. Is this just a political ploy to make it appear as if the state is trying to do something about education, or is it a back-door attempt at union-busting?"

Sadly, I shook my head and sighed, "It's probably both."

Potty Talk

2009-01-12T17:42:00.007-05:00

This may very well be the most unconventional topic I've ever blogged, but hey, inspiration rarely follows convention, now does it?

However, the story does begin at the high school:

It was the last day of classes before winter break, and the mood throughout Max Hayes was festive. There was a little extra spring in my step as I made my way past the knot of students gathered next to the door of the building construction shop on the third floor. I smiled at my colleagues, Jim and Bill, and they waved me inside.

"What are you doing after school?"

It was agreed that a celebratory drink would be in order, but the question of where to imbibe remained open to suggestion.

"How about the Barking Spider?" Bill suggested. None of the West side teachers would be joining us that afternoon, so we were free to venture outside the typical staff comfort zone of the Near West Detroit Shoreway neighborhood. University Circle is on the other side of the river, and on the way home for us Eastsiders.

"Boy, I haven't been there for a couple of years. I'll meet you guys at about 2:45."

The Barking Spider Tavern has been a popular Cleveland watering hole since 1986. Cold pitchers of draft beer and free entertainment make it a favorite of the Case Western Reserve University crowd who are, for the most part, a rather brainy clientele. It is just this combination of alcohol, intellect, and creativity, that brings me to the subject of my post. Add a magic marker to that trifecta, and what you get are the most intriguing restrooms I have ever needed to spend time in.

Graffiti covers every surface. The legacy of thousands of women scribbled, stamped, and smeared on the doors, walls, and ceiling. Proclamations of love, political diatribes, cartoon drawings, poetry, jokes, famous quotations, and angry rants demand the attention of the occupant.

That Friday afternoon I found myself alone in the ladies room, and being in no hurry, I began to read. With no one to hear me I laughed out loud. Written in green, an elitist insult : "Your pants are easier to get into than community college!"

Remembering the camera in my purse, I began to photograph the layers of text.

Although the walls apparently get scrubbed, permanent marker stains the paint, leaving the ghost images of ancient tags and soliloquies until, before long, new patrons add their thoughts to the walls, doors, and fixtures.

What began as vandalism has, over time, been allowed to become art, although I'm not sure if proprietor, Martin Juredine, shares my philosophical perspective.

"You call this Art?" Certainly some conservatives would scream, "That's just wrong!"

And I reply "Look again...think."

I teach Art as concept, ideas, expression, and most importantly; art as visual communication. What has evolved over time here in the restrooms of the Barking Spider Tavern is an amalgamation of thoughts and feelings. Text and drawings, ranging from raunchy inebriated scrawls to pithy remarks and profundities, record the anonymous ruminations of the countless women who ventured into the ladies room over the years. Like bacteria in a petri dish, creative expression grows in this lavatory. The visitor who pauses to read will get a provocative glimpse of the feminine spirit in it's myriad manifestations.

In my opinion, the experience rivals the conceptual works in many gallery installations I've viewed.

When I returned, my colleagues, too polite to ask what took me so long, did give the camera in my hand a second glance. I wasn't surprised.

I do admit it is just a little strange to be taking photos in a restroom.

"Mom, I have the best gift for you...ever!"

2008-12-27T14:16:00.002-05:00

All I Want for Christmas is You from Hugh Bickley on Vimeo.

A week before Christmas my 16 year old, Brian, began dropping hints.

"You're gonna love your present from me this year."

"What? No last minute shopping?", was my sarcastic response.

"It's not a material gift."

'Then it would be a spiritual gift?" I said, with just a slight smirk.

"You'll see."

Christmas morning, Brian asked me to bring down my laptop.

"This", he announced "is from me and the rest of my friends who have no jobs."

He was right. I really DID love it

(BTW - Brian, AKA Young B, is the kid in the grey hooded jacket)

Another Soldier Story

2008-12-25T20:27:00.010-05:00

My students call it the "ghetto security system" although I prefer the term "old school" to "ghetto". Regardless of the moniker, the cowbells wired to the top of my classroom door are pretty effective at alerting us whenever anyone enters or leaves the art room. A hand on the door knob is enough to set them clanging.

"You've got a visitor! Should I get the door?"

I looked up from the paintbrushes I was cleaning and dropped them into the sink. Nearly tripping over a chair, I raced to the front of the room where a young soldier had just stepped inside.

"Oh my god! You're back! Look at you!"

"Is that your daughter?" a tenth grade boy asked as I stepped back from the warm hug.

"Some things never change." I laughed "This is Tabitha, and she has been my daughter since she was a freshman at Max Hayes. She adopted me."

For four years Tabitha was a fixture in the art studio. Her blond hair drew attention in an urban school where the majority of her classmates had darker complexions, and students often assumed, because of my 'currently blond' hair, that we were certainly related. Growing tired of their questions, Tabitha began calling me "Mom".

Eyeing the beige and green fatigues, I asked, "I heard you were going to join the Marines. What happened ? Was I misinformed?"

"The Marines promised money for college, but it seems they have no idea how much college costs these days. The Army had a better education program. I'll be starting nursing school soon."

"I'm so proud of you. You look so much better than the last time I saw you at your sister's commencement."

"I am better."

After graduating in 2006, Tabitha followed the same path as many of her classmates, as she tried to figure out what to do with her life. Unable to afford college, she had spent the last couple of years working, first at a pizza shop and then at a used car lot. When I saw her in the auditorium at her younger sister Samantha's graduation, she looked tired and miserable, and left immediately after the ceremony with hardly more than a wave in my direction. A very different young woman in front of me now. She was animated, confident, and happy.

"I've been in the Army for seven months. I love it. I completed my training as a petroleum specialist, but I decided what I really wanted to do was nursing. Right now I'm stationed in Virginia. They let me come home for Christmas because in February I'm being deployed."

"Deployed?" With that single word, my heart sank.

"I'll be going to Iraq for one month, and then on to Afghanistan for twelve months." Accurately reading my furrowed brow, she added "Don't worry. I'll be fine. Actually I'm excited about going, it will be an adventure."

I cannot keep track of how many of my students are now fighting overseas. Like Tabitha, many will come by to visit with me before they go to war, but very few ever come back to talk about it when they return. As often as they promise to write or call, I've never received a letter or even an email, but admittedly I did not take the initiative to write either. I think about these young men and women all the time, wondering where their lives have taken them. About eight years ago one of my boys, who had joined the Marines, came back to see me after returning from a violent episode he experienced while on a stint in Lebanon. He recounted his tour of duty for more than an hour in my office, with tears running down his face. It was quite heart wrenching.

I've often said that one of the best things about teaching high school are the relationships you build with your students. When those relationships become friendships that sustain into adulthood, a teacher feels truly blessed. I am grateful to have made some very dear friends over the course of my career.

Tabitha and I met for lunch at Stone Mad a couple of days before Christmas. We talked about everything from families to boyfriends, gossiped about classmates and faculty, and even discussed philosophy and religion. We lingered, laughing and chatting until the dinning room was empty, and the wait staff were anxious. Before we parted we exchanged e-mails, phone numbers and addresses. This time I will make certain I write the first letter...After all she is my daughter.

The Max Hayes Art Club, and a Case for Experiential Learning

2008-12-23T07:21:00.002-05:00

I have always believed the axiom "Experience is the best teacher" which, I suppose, is one of the reasons why, even as a student, I was drawn to the classes where you worked with your hands. I always enjoyed my science labs immensely (yes, I used to teach science years ago) and the art studio just felt like home. Field trips also made quite an impact. New sights, different faces, and the possibility of adventure brought a sense of excitement to a week day that typically plodded along to the drone of lectures accented by school bells.

When I first became a teacher in the Cleveland schools, a district constantly strapped for cash, we were subtly discouraged from taking students out of the classroom on field trips. The cost of transportation coupled with the cost of having a substitute cover the remaining classes made any excursion prohibitive. Scheduling a field trip was also very tricky, since there are so many mandatory tests given throughout the year, some of them lasting as long as a week. Faced with these constraints, many Cleveland teachers, including myself, put field trips on the back burner, except perhaps for a visit to the Art Museum once every couple of years.

The award of a four-year Young Audiences ICARE grant 0f approximately $120,000 in 2002, allowed me to break free of the status quo mind set of "it can't be done."

Oh my! How quickly I discovered, money certainly can change things.

When the grant period concluded in 2006, I wanted to continue offering my students some of the same quality arts experiences, but once again, funds and scheduling remained obstacles.

The solution?

After school programing solved the scheduling problems. The Max Hayes Art Club meets Thursdays after school from 2:30 until 4:00. It is run as a drop-in studio with a Zen approach to membership, meaning: Whoever shows up is who is supposed to be there.

On studio days, the kids are given materials to work with that I don't typically use in class, due to cost and/or limited quantities. So far this year we have finger painted, worked with oil pastels, charcoal, and painted Christmas ornaments.

Funding for art supplies remains a constant issue. This year we were given a $50 donation from money raised by the kind efforts of Convivium 33 Gallery owner, Alenka Banco. I look for discount and sale items whenever I'm shopping, and am happy to pick up the tab for a few items here and there that I know the students will enjoy using.

The best part of the Art Club experience though has been the field trips.

Field trips are scheduled on random days, as the opportunities become available. This semester we have trekked to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Spaces Art Gallery (several times) Convivium 33 Gallery, Streets of Manhattan Glass Studio, and the W 69th Street studio of sculptor Melissa Daubert. The only cost to the district is the price of a bus ticket on the RTA.

In January we will be heading out to The Glass Studio to learn glass blowing with Mike Zelenka, a glass artist who also works at Max Hayes as a tennis coach and substitute teacher. I'll be sure to post those photos next month.

On a more philisophical note:

If a young person's art's education is limited to whatever the teacher can offer in the confines of a classroom, that education is sorely inadequate. I feel so strongly about the value these kinds of experiences have to offer, I volunteer my time and money to make them possible for the kids at Max Hayes.

Unfortunately, the attitude of too many folks in Cleveland seems to be that arts education is a frill. It gets a lot of lip-service but very little funding. Administrators are loathe to fund subject areas that are not a part of state mandated testing.

Field trips are also treated as non-essential activities. Rather than being regarded as important learning experiences, they are given "reward" status, offered only to the "good" students.

Occasionally I'm asked what type of school I would like to see if I could design one from scratch. I haven't thought about most of of details, but I do know I would start with experiential learning as the core. It's missing from most of today's public educational programs, and well, you can see what kind of shape they are in.

I guess you might say I would take the "Magic School Bus" approach to learning. In the words of Miss Frizzle, we need to "Go out, take chances, make mistakes, and get dirty!”

Summer Project: 1965 Volkswagen Beetle - Part 10

2008-12-14T15:33:00.003-05:00

Finally! After nearly 3 months in limbo, the Barney the Blue Beetle is back on the blog.

Tempted as I am to smugly scoff as The Optimist's ambitious September completion date became distant memory, I find that I must rise to his defense instead. It seems the little Bug fell victim to the national economic crisis. Here's the story:

New fenders were ordered from an after market dealer in California way back in August. The dealer paid a trucking company to ship the parts, and then right before the truck was ready to hit the road, the shipping company went out of business. Weeks became months, lawyers and accountants worked out the details, and eventually when the snow began to fly, the fenders found their way to Cleveland.

Tom popped the engine into the Beetle and drove it to a friend's body shop to have it painted. When I stopped by to check out the shiny new coat of Sea Blue, I was surprised to see the fenders were still not on the car, they were sitting behind the driver's seat.

I followed along behind as Tom drove the fender-less little car down St. Claire Avenue back to his shop in Euclid. Thank goodness we didn't cross paths with any of the city's finest, as it seems we'd forgotten the license plates on the dinning room table back at home.

No job is ever simple. Well at least that's my experience - it could have something to do with the blond hair. It took me two trips to Home Depot to get the right size washers to fit the bolts.

Fenders at last!

Next task - Bumpers!

To be continued...

Preparing for the Day of the Dead

2008-10-28T16:20:00.003-05:00

The invitation in the mail read" Mambo Muerto!

"According to legend ... when the best benefit party of the year collides with
November 1, Day of the Dead, El Dia de los Muertos, the undying spirit of art
will rise to join the fun, and a spicy Latino celebration of the soul will ensue
... it's ¡Mambo Muerto! Shake the skeletons out of your closet and join us for SPACES' Annual Benefit & Silent Auction!"

SPACES gallery has been a supportive partner of the visual arts program at Max Hayes High School for several years, inviting our students to special viewings of gallery exhibitions and providing opportunities for the kids to meet and occasionally work with resident artists.

When I received an e-mail request for volunteers to help create decorations for their annual benefit, I immediately extended the invitation to the Art Club.

(click here for a Wikipedia link to "Day of the Dead")

I have never had such an enthusiastic group of artists in all of my years of teaching in the Cleveland schools. For many of these kids, late afternoons at home can be very boring, and so they relish the chance to socialize with their friends just as much as they enjoy the opportunity to create. The adventure of visiting a new place, combined with the promise of earning community service hours, provided plenty of incentive for six of the members to brave the rain, and walk the twenty blocks that separate the gallery from the school.

Danny and Jeff were the first to arrive, much to the delight of the SPACES staff. They were quickly put to work tracing a giant skeleton onto foam core board, and carefully cutting out the bones with Exacto knives.

Danny, a native of Mexico, entertained the group with stories of his own family's traditions as they celebrate the Day of the Dead. Later on he confided how cool it was that everyone seemed so interested in his ancestral customs. Usually he gets teased about his Mexican heritage.

Sarah, Cora, Deseraee, and Gabriel sloshed into the gallery about ten minutes after the first two boys. They were given several choices of tasks from "glitterizing" cardboard skulls, painting borders on table cloths, or hollowing out sugar skulls, to creating tissue paper carnations. They began with the flowers, then moved on to the glitter and paint. Before we knew it, the time had come to hurry back out to the bus stop. They were all invited to come back Wednesday and help build the traditional Dias del Muerto Fiesta altar.

"Can we?" Eager faces looked at me hopefully.

"Of course" I'd never dream of spoiling this kind of fun.

Unfortunately, Mother Nature is not such a good sport as I am. When we walked out the door the rain had turned to sleet.

Reflection among the Graves

2008-10-26T08:08:00.002-05:00

I remember exploring an old country church cemetery in Hiram Township near my grandmother’s house, when I was a little girl. I was fascinated by the inscriptions on the headstones, and with the diligence of an archeologist, I examined the time worn markers, carefully deciphering the birth and death dates. I would work the equations in my head so that I could figure out the ages of the persons whose graves I tread upon. I would always feel so sad to discover the burial plot of a very young person or a child, imagining the grief of the family.
Even now, cemeteries still have an allure, and it is not unusual for me to stop and take a look around if I am driving by one, and I have a little time on my hands.
One of my favorites is the historic Lakeview Cemetery, which straddles the border of Cleveland and Cleveland Heights. It is the final resting place of many of the city’s most famous citizens, from President James Garfield and billionaire John D Rockefeller, to law man Elliot Ness and inventor Charles Brush.

In Lakeview Cemetery there are thousands of graves, each one representing the final page of a life story. Some graves are nearly anonymous, with a simple inscription of Mother, Father, or Infant. Others give the visitor a bit more; a name, birth and death dates, and occasionally, a verse from the Bible. My favorites are the elaborately carved monuments. Stained by acid rains and the polluted atmosphere of a city where fortunes were accrued in the steel mills and factories, figures of angels, saints and the deceased stare eternally at the landscape.
.

I can’t help but wonder about the people who sleep forever below the grass. Where they happy or miserable? Did their lives end with an illness, accident, or could they have been murdered? Who did they leave behind? Were they loved or lonely?
I can walk for miles here along the roads and pathways. Wandering between the headstones, I become cognizant of my own time on earth, and begin to contemplate the impact I’ve made so far.

Finger Painting: We go back to the Basics

2008-10-13T06:40:00.003-05:00

"I want this group to be able to do things you don't normally do in your regular art classes."

I stood in the center of about ten students gathered in the art studio for the first organizational meeting of the Max Hayes Art Club.

"We can visit galleries and meet professional artists in their studios, we can experiment with different mediums, I have tons of ideas. How about you guys? What would you like to do?"

A short silence ensued while eyes scoured the room for inspiration.

"I want to finger-paint."

Smirking at the silliness, I shook my head. "C'mon now. Be serious."

My comment unleashed a torrent of teen-aged voices. "I want to finger-paint too!", "I never got a chance in kindergarten.", "It would be the most fun thing EVER!", "I love finger-painting!", "Pleeease, please, please, let us finger-paint!"

Wow! I hadn't seen so much adolescent enthusiasm for an activity that didn't involve food in a long, long time. It would be wrong to quash this kind of passion. So, setting aside my personal dislike for this kiddie-kraft, I capitulated.

"Okay then... next Thursday we will finger-paint."

My excited little group began to gather in the art room before the last class of the day was even over. A few stopped in to tell me they would be late, since other commitments needed their attention first, but to PLEASE make sure and save them some paint.

About ten years ago, I gratefully accepted a big box of art supplies from a friend who was retiring from teaching elementary school. In it were all kinds of craft items and paper tablets along with several dusty jars of finger paint. After sitting in my closet for a decade I hoped they had not dried out.

A table in the back of the room was cleared to make room for large paper, and I spooned out dishes of the colorful gel, slightly shrunken, but still usable.

Eager hands could hardly wait. It was time to get messy.

There is something both primal and decadent about finger paint. A lifetime of hand washing caused some reluctance to stick my own paws in the paint, but I forced myself to make the plunge. Although I smeared and scribbled a little with my fingers, I still could not cross that uncomfortable mental barrier of "ickyness", and after a few minutes, retreated to the sink.

The kids, however, happily experimented with color mixing and technique. Given complete creative freedom, images began to emerge. Landscapes, rainbows, monsters, and Halloween characters soon covered the tables.

As four o'clock neared, the inevitable question was raised;

"When are we going to do this again?"

Overheard

2008-10-12T05:45:00.001-05:00

Overheard at a party last night:

Republican 1: I've voted Republican for the past 30 years, but this time I'm voting for Obama.
Republican 2: But he's BLACK!
Republican 1: I lost $40,000 this week. How much did you lose?
Republican 2: $38,000.
Republican 1: Think about it.

Marian Wright Edelman at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History

2008-10-02T22:27:00.009-05:00

The auditorium was filling up quickly. "Darn!" I thought, "Too late to get an aisle seat..No, I think I see a few empty rows down near the stage." I hurried to throw my purse and jacket across two cushioned chairs, and once having staked my claim, flopped down to wait for the speaker to take the podium.

I'd been invited to the evening's reception by my friend, Susan Miller, to hear a presentation by Marian Wright Edelman, founder and president of the Children's Defense Fund and award winning author. Ms Edelman came to Cleveland this week to promote her latest book, The Sea is So Wide and My Boat is so Small - Charting a Course for the next Generation, and celebrate the opening of the Cleveland Museum of Natural History's new provocative exhibit, "Race-Are We so Different?", sponsored in part by the nonprofit organization, Facing History and Ourselves

Finally, after the representatives the event sponsors greeted the audience, the third speaker introduced Ms Edelman and called her to the stage. To my surprise, a little woman with elegantly coiffed salt and pepper hair who had been sitting quietly in front of me, stood up and walked to the microphone.

In a low voice of quiet authority, she began to read from her book. Her words grabbed the audience by our collective conscience:

"A poor black boy born in 2001 has a one in three chance of going to prison in his lifetime; a Latino boy a one in six chance; a black girl a one in seventeen chance; a white boy a one in seventeen chance; a Latina girl a one in forty-five chance; and a white girl a one in one hundred and eleven chance."
"Child poverty and neglect, racial disparities in systems that serve children, and the Cradle to Prison Pipeline are not acts of God. They are America's immoral political and economic choices that can and must be changed with strong political, corporate, and community leadership."

The audience of more than 400 people gasped, although I was not surprised. I have been familiar with many of these statistics for several years. I cannot count the number of times I have looked over my classroom full of inner-city students and sadly wondered, "What will eventually become of them? Which of these young faces will end up behind razor-wire? Will it really be ten out of the thirty? How do we put a stop to this insanity?"

Every point she made so eloquently were themes I'd also written about over the years. It was very encouraging to hear the message repeated in a public forum large enough to have an impact. She has done the research, assembled the facts, and reached conclusions one could only arrive at if one has been not only a careful observer, but has fully experienced life in it's many facets. A smile, borne of recognizing a kindred thinker, spread across my face.

Each chapter of her book was addressed to a different audience. To the educators she wrote:

"If we want to assess the status of America's future competitiveness, national
security, and democratic health, one need only stop at the school doors through
which millions of ill-prepared students pour every day.
What do we do?
Educators need to remember what their mission is: educating children. Those
who use public schools as political patronage and job security rather than as
child learning and development sites need to be confronted and ousted. Old
interests and ways of doing business need to give way so that children's futures
can be protected. While there are many wonderful teachers and schools all over
the country, there are very few whole school systems where all children are
achieving well."

Ms Edelman reprimanded schools who implement zero-tolerance discipline policies for non-violent behavior, calling them feeder systems for the prison industry. She also spent some time chiding individual educators who don't love (or even like) children, advising them to get out of teaching. Worst of all, she warned, are those who seek to line their own pockets at the expense of innocent children. She brilliantly coined the term "affluenza" to describe the apathetic culture of the 'haves' and their deliberate avoidance of the 'have-nots'.

Every person in the audience received a copy of her new book, and of course mine is already digested, highlighted, and annotated.

I think I have discovered a new favorite author.

Afternoon at the Zoo

2008-09-29T20:37:00.001-05:00

It was one of those weekends that happen every now and again, where you say “We should do something…but what?”
On such occasions I like to play tourist, grab the camera, and explore Cleveland by the guide book. There are so many interesting things to do in this city.
“How about the zoo?” Tom offered.
“Wow, I haven’t been there for a long time. When was the last time you went to the zoo?” I asked.
He rubbed the goatee on his chin and thoughtfully answered, “I think it’s been about thirty years.”

It was a perfect zoo day. A mid-morning drizzle insured light attendance for this early autumn Sunday. The sky was a little overcast, and the cooler temperatures meant the animals would be a bit more active than they are on hot, sunny afternoons. Cleveland Metro Parks Zoo is truly a beautiful place to wander. The landscaping is lovely, and the exhibits are well planned, and quite informative.
Young parents pushed strollers and herded children along the pathways, stopping at each pen to roar, squeal, or whistle relentlessly, trying to get the creature to pay attention. Usually the animals ignored the obnoxious humans, some hiding in the corners of their enclaves, noses to the wall.
Zoos always make me a little sad.

I know, I know… many of the animals are endangered, and their chances for survival and procreation in the wild are shaky in this day and age of climate change, environmental poisoning, and the encroachment of man. But to see these noble beasts confined to such tight quarters, pacing back and forth, like frustrated claustrophobics; it tore at my sympathetic soul.

The silverback gorillas were the most heart-breaking of all. Their faces, so close to human, looked almost annoyed as they stared through the thick partition at the visitors who pressed their noses to the super strong Plexiglas. Innocent prisoners, on display for our entertainment, they sit hour after hour on concrete ledges designed to simulate the rocky terrain of a mountain habitat.

I wondered if they ever dream of freedom.

Shop Talk

2008-09-25T05:13:00.004-05:00

"When you're making chips, you're making money."

That's the mantra of the machine shop, and Cleveland area component manufacturers have been filling up the chip bins.

Surprised? Cleveland has been bleeding manufacturing jobs for years, high labor rates in the states, and free trade legislation have decimated the industry, right?

Well...yes....but...

The first rule of entreprenuership: misfortune for some means opportunity for others.

As component manufacturing began moving offshore to take advantage of the incredibly low labor rates, many local business owners threw up their hands and closed up their shops, saying, "We just can't compete."

The remaining die-hard companies asked the question, "How do we become more efficient?"

By taking advantage of new technology and automation, smart manufacturers were able to not only decrease labor costs, but dramatically increase production. Not only were they able to keep work here, but some jobs were even brought BACK from overseas factories. With less local competition, many of these businesses find themselves in the enviable position of needing to expand their operations.

Alas, every silver lining has a cloud. Automation requires highly skilled technicians, adept at math and computer programming. Employers who invested in education for their workers were able to survive. The problem now is some of these folks would like to retire, but there aren't enough young people to take their places. Companies are poaching technicians from each other.

I understand there may be a whole lot of folks in the banking and finance industry who will be back in the job market soon. I'm thinking they should look to the manufacturing sector for retraining. We could really use them.

Artist Market at St Josaphat Hall

2008-09-20T10:33:00.004-05:00

This morning I stopped by St Josaphat Hall on East 33rd street to preview the first annual Sparx in the City Artist Market, sponsored by Convivium 33 Gallery owner, Alenka Banco.

Artists do indeed accumulate wonderful things, and this eclectic sale showcases the treasured hoards of a number of creative Clevelanders who are willing to part with their collections of tchotchkes, antiques, and furniture at bargain prices.

Make sure you schedule a stop at the Artist Market this weekend as you check out the rest of the galleries and artist studios during the Sparx Gallery Hop.

THE ARTISTS' MARKET
September 20-21, 2008(Sparx in the City Weekend) from 10am-5pm
Artists have the coolest junk/stuff!
Convivium33 Gallery at Josaphat Arts Hall has invited artists to sell their wears/wares during Cleveland's Sparx in the City Weekend.
On Saturday, September 20 and Sunday, September 21, 2008.
The naive at Josaphat's will become the Artists' Market.
Doors open at 10am with early admittance at 8:30am to dealers/public for a $5.00 donation.
(100% of admittance fee will go to to support the Art Department at: Max S. Hayes High School/Cleveland Metropolitan School District)
No admittance fee during regular hours from 10am-5pm.
So...whether you are looking for art, clothing, furniture, etc. it should be fun!
Cool Junk, Cool Neighborhood- The Quarter!
For additional information: vendor Please email convivium33@josaphatartshall.comor alenkabanco@sbcglobal.net

Teaching Conceptual Art

2008-09-19T21:10:00.004-05:00

"Anyone here an artist?" I ask. A few hands go up.

"Anyone here who would rather be taking a different class?"A few hands go up again.

"Who thinks the class could be cool, but are not sure if you'll be any good at it?" Almost all the hands go up."

"Now that's encouraging." I smile.

Most high school visual art programs are elective courses, offering a traditional arts foundation curriculum. The kids who sign up for the classes have an interest in drawing, painting, sculpture, printing, or photography.

Because Max Hayes is an industrial trades school, many of the students I teach come into my class with no desire to become artists, and even less desire to make art. You see, all students must have 1 fine arts credit to graduate in the state of Ohio, and I am the only arts teacher in the building - no music, dance, or drama here. In order to make art relevant to the kids studying auto tech, construction, or machining, I've learned to take a very different approach to the arts curriculum. I focus on art as concept, and the artist as communicator and visual problem solver.

This year, I began my course with a poem by the artist who created Cleveland's "Free Stamp", Claes Oldenburg. The poem, titled simply "Statement" , is a long reflection on the idea of art as concept.
It begins:

"I am for an art that is political-erotical-mystical, that does something other
than sit on its ass in a museum.
I am for an art that grows up not knowing it is art at all, an art given the chance of having a starting point of zero.
I am for an art that embroils itself with the everyday crap and still comes out on top.
I am or an art that imitates the human, that is comic, if necessary, or violent, or
whatever is necessary.
I am for an art that takes its form from the lines of life itself, that twists and extends and accumulates and spits and drips, and is heavy and coarse and blunt and sweet and stupid as life itself.
I am for an artist who vanishes, turning up in a white cap painting signs or hallways.
I am for an art that comes out of a chimney like black hair and scatters in the sky..."

After looking at more prints of Oldenburg's sculptures, depicting everyday objects treated as icons and transformed into monuments, I asked the students to come up with a few "I am for art..." sentences of their own. Here are some examples:

"I am for art that fools a mosquito into the light, but is betrayed and hits the earth like a comet."
"I am for art that makes a fat lady seem small when she smiles."
"I am for art that has no thought nor expression, free of emotion, yet little discretion."
"I am for artists who sit in the dark and paint."
"I am for the art of monsters in my closet and secrets hidden under the bed."
"I am for art that grinds through life on a skate board, and I ain't talkin' lupe fiasco."
"I am for art that tickles my skin."
"I am for art that claims my life story through powerful words of my poetry."
"I am for the art of love between 2 teens whose love is doubted by parents."
"I am for art that is 'hood."
"I am for art that helps old ladies cross the street."
"I am for art that doesn't exist."
"I am for art that makes you think"

Hm-mm...I'm thinking, they "get it".

I'm forever fascinated by the number of kids who are eager to share their poetry with me. Once they know I'm interested, the old spiral bound notebooks and scraps of lined paper filled with verse are retrieved from closets and under beds and timidly placed in my hands in between classes. Teenage love songs, family tragedies, neighborhood violence, and tales of adolescent angst, I read them all without criticism. One young machinist even asked if he could bring his guitar to school and play for us, while the class illustrated their statements on long strips of donated, factory remnant, poster-board.

"Of course!" And so after many months of practice he finally had an audience.

I am for an art that gives the soul a voice.

An advocate of experiential learning, I like to take advantage of Cleveland's vibrant arts community and bring working artists into the school, take my students out to explore urban galleries, view public art in our neighborhood, and visit local artists in their studios. Last week, I took a group of kids to the Rock Hall for a presentation on Woodstock and album cover art, stopping by Claes Oldenburg's Free Stamp along the way. Next week we are going to SPACES gallery to view the "Bilingual" show and meet Cleveland painter Michelangelo Lovelace.

Our school is fortunate to be located on an RTA main route, so close to downtown. We can go all kinds of places for the price of a bus ticket.

I believe my students need to experience art beyond the walls of my classroom. If what they learn about art while they are in high school is confined to a few school projects, they will have a very limited education indeed.

Summer Project: 1965 VW Beetle - Part 9

2008-09-18T09:47:00.002-05:00

Take a look at these before and after pictures. Two months ago, Barney was nothing but a dangerous rust-bucket with gaping holes in the floor and a body slowly succumbing to the inevitable corrosion that results from driving the salted streets of the snowy Mid-west.

The Optimist was certain the Beetle would be on the road by the end of August...make that September...well, October for sure. Hey, I still think this bad-boy has come a long way in a short time, considering it has been a project delegated to spare-moment status.

The doors are finally on, and Tom has been sanding and smoothing the surface this week, getting ready for the first coat of primer.

Of course, the fenders still haven't arrived yet, the dealer has them back-ordered, but the bug is masked off and ready to be painted.

Hurry up... and wait. That's our mantra.

To be continued...

Bad Behavior

2008-09-12T19:21:00.002-05:00

The red truck suddenly swerved into my lane, as I sat patiently waiting for the line of oncoming traffic to pass so I could make my left hand turn.

My eyes opened wide at the imminent impact. But before I gasped, I could see the driver laughing at my startled expression and he quickly returned to his side of the street.

"Damn!"

I looked in my rear-view mirror, and saw the man craning his neck to look back at me, alone in the cab, shoulders shaking with laughter and a sadistic grin stretched across his face.

"That is one sick human being." I thought as I made my turn and continued toward home

Over the course of my career, I've worked with many young people who suffered with emotional and behavioral disorders, as well as severe mental illnesses. These kids struggle daily with the chemical imbalances that play havoc on their brains. Fortunately, we live in a day and age of medical miracles, and many of these students find balance with the proper medication.

Teachers who work in schools having significant populations of children who are diagnosed with these types of disorders, become quite adept at determining which behaviors are merely symptoms of their condition and, while disruptive, can be tolerated with sympathy, and which manifestations call for removal of the student. Wisdom as well as discernment come with experience. Over the years, I notice I've become a far more patient teacher than I was as a rookie, especially when it comes to kids who can't focus, or have energy levels that range from extremely low, to obnoxiously high. I've learned to roll, in a manner of speaking. When I make a conscious effort not to get upset, I find I am a much happier person.

Last week a colleague shared an experience he had that morning as he walked into the school office, and a student deliberately stuck out his foot in an attempt to make the teacher trip.

"My immediate reaction was anger," he confided, " but when I looked at the boys face, I could tell there was something wrong with the young man mentally, and suddenly my anger became compassion. I could only feel sorry for him, because at some point, he must have seen a comedy where a person was tripped, and all he could think of was that tripping somebody is funny. "

This man is a new, second career teacher, and I smiled, thinking how lucky we are to have added such a talented, thoughtful, and kind member to our faculty.

Tolerance should have it's limits though. Where I personally draw the line is with the true sociopaths. These are people who have absolutely no regard for the feelings of others - the bullies. I meet a few of them every year in my classroom; just plain mean kids who find entertainment in the misery and humiliation of their chosen victims. They are usually not students who have been diagnosed with special needs. In fact, most of these kids (girls as well as boys) are normal, even bright. The seemingly innate cruelty baffles me. I often find myself wondering how these personalities develop. Do they also suffer from some chemical quirkiness, or are their attitudes a reflection of their home lives?

Unfortunately, school house bullies grow up to become adult sociopaths. Sometimes, a few years down the road I will read their names in the crime section of the metro pages. However, most of the time they refine their bullying and quietly become our neighbors, have families, and get jobs.

And sometimes they buy red trucks and terrorize women stopped at traffic lights.

Summer Project - 1965 VW Beetle: Part 8

2008-09-11T19:49:00.001-05:00

Finally! Another update for you Beetle maniacs.

The day Tom drove the little blue bug home, I called the car a "Flintstone mobile" since there were holes in the floor-pan so huge one could literally drop their feet through and skid on the road, just like Fred and Barney did in Bedrock when they put on the "brakes". Of course, that was the day I named the Volkswagen "Barney".

Well, now take a look at that nice solid bottom. It's been coated and re-coated, and coated a few more times with Rustoleum. Winters here in the rust belt can be rough on sheet metal.

Speaking of paint. The underside of the Beetle body is sporting a fresh new coat of Sea Blue. The color is much prettier than I could imagine when I first saw the faded blue bug sitting in that weedy back lot in a couple months ago. Every inch of this car will be repainted. After all this effort to restore the little guy, we want him to last.

Hooray!

The last bolt gets tightened, and the body is back on the chassis. To our great relief, it fits. Even The Optimist was a little nervous about things lining up just right after removing the old heater channels, but it looks like the braces he welded in did the trick. Barney's got his wheels back.

I had to leave right after this momentous event, but I hear the doors are reattached, the steering is working and the fenders have been ordered. It looks like Barney's next photo shoot will be of a car instead of a carcass.

Sparx in the City Artist Market to benefit Max Hayes Art Deparment

2008-09-07T22:15:00.003-05:00

Many thanks to Alenka Banco for her generous effort to support arts education at Max S. Hayes High School.

Tour the Cleveland art scene during the Sparx in the City gallery hop next weekend. Whether you ride Lolly the Trolly or make your own agenda, please come check out the gorgeous Convivium 33 Gallery and do a bit of treasure hunting at the St. Josaphat Hall Artists' Market.

THE ARTISTS' MARKET

September 20-21, 2008
(Sparx in the City Weekend) from 10am-5pm

Artists have the coolest junk/stuff!

Convivium33 Gallery at Josaphat Arts Hall has invited artists to sell their wears/wares during Cleveland's Sparx in the City Weekend.

On Saturday, September 20 and Sunday, September 21, 2008.

The naive at Josaphat's will become the Artists' Market.

Doors open at 10am with early admittance at 8:30am to dealers/public for a $5.00 donation.

(100% of admittance fee will go to to support the Art Department at: Max S. Hayes High School/Cleveland Metropolitan School District)

No admittance fee during regular hours from 10am-5pm.

So...whether you are looking for art, clothing, furniture, etc. it should be fun!

Cool Junk, Cool Neighborhood- The Quarter!

For additional information: vendor Please email convivium33@josaphatartshall.com
or alenkabanco@sbcglobal.net

We must be Hatched or go Bad

2008-09-06T08:18:00.002-05:00

It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.
C.S. Lewis

Can Cleveland's leadership break from the status quo shell of "the way business is done in this town" and truly embrace the visionary, or has the culture of greed, corruption, and fear irreparably corroded this place?

As I wander the decaying neighborhoods of my city, I sadly watch the carrion lurking to profit from poverty's misery, but recently I have also begun to see emerging signs of new life. Yes, the grass has been burned, but the community roots are sending up new shoots. It is my hope that a fresh breed of civic leaders might also spring from these places. Young leaders who will combine vision and innovation with compassion, common sense, and the courage to break out of the shell that has constrained this city for too long.

Max Hayes Cruise-In

2008-09-04T22:44:00.003-05:00

My post today is an unabashed promotion for Max Hayes High School's Fall "Cruise-In".

Saturday, September 20, 2008 the parking lot at Max S. Hayes Career and Technical School will be host to customs, classics, hot-rods and specialty cars from the Greater Cleveland area.

The Spring Classic Car show was such a success, and so much fun, the participants couldn't wait to come back. So this month the cars and the crowds return to Max Hayes.

If you have a cool ride, cruise on in and join the party. This one is free! No registration required.

Click on the YouTube link below to check out a video of the Spring 2008 event.

YouTube - 2008 Max Hayes Career Opportunities Showcase Ground Tour

Max Hayes is located at 4600 Detroit Avenue. For more information call (216) 631-1528

Back to School 2008

2008-09-03T05:22:00.002-05:00

Although the official start of school was August 28th, the wacky schedules of the first couple days which accommodate orientation assemblies and extended homerooms, along with the relatively high percentage of Cleveland families who will not send their children to school until after Labor Day, my classes don't begin to get rolling until the first week of September.

The first drawing exercise I give my students each year is a diagnostic tool used by art therapists. I ask my students to draw a picture, or pictures, of where they live and who they live with. I use the drawings to assess their skill level, of course, but I can also learn some very helpful things about their backgrounds, developmental levels, and emotional relationships.

The teen years for many students are traumatic, and as the shooting incident at Willoughby demonstrated yesterday, some kids can become so distraught they become a danger to themselves and other people. The more we as adults can do to become aware of individuals who may be going through an emotional crisis, or the early stages of a serious mental illness, the safer we all will be.

Perhaps best strategy for security in schools has always been the relationships we build with our students.

And those relationships begin on day one.

Grease, Sugar, and the Gorilla Girl

2008-09-01T08:41:00.004-05:00

The voicemail was clear and succinct, "Summer's almost over. I need festival food."

There was an urgency in Susan's tone that demanded an immediate call back.

"I need elephant ears. I need a funnel cake. I need food on a stick!" After weeks of strict dieting and a systemic cleanse, my best friend looked fabulous, but was craving grease and sugar like a junkie.

"The Geauga County Fair is this week," I offered "Can you wait until Saturday?"

Tom, Susan, and I made the 45 minute drive to Burton, giddily throwing the GPS wench into a tech tizzy, by asking for directions then purposely taking alternative routes. You see, we were in MY old stomping grounds, Geauga, the sixteen townships which made up the 'hood of my youth. I grew up in Auburn, located in the southern part of the county, and like most rural kids back in the early '70s, participated in 4-H. The 4-H exhibits are still a major component of the Great Geauga County Fair, with horse shows, livestock auctions, sheep shearing, and milking demonstrations drawing large crowds of fascinated suburbanites

"Gabora the Gorilla Girl! Watch her change before your eyes from a beautiful girl into a terrifying gorilla! Guaranteed Alive! Only $2.00!"

How could anyone resist?

Well, Tom could. He stood beside the tent grinning and shaking his head while Susan and I, seduced by the campiness, forked over our money and entered the dark tent where we waited with about twenty other affectionados of midway marvels.

Soon a puffy faced barker appeared, beginning his shpiel with "Please put away your cameras." Not only did I ignore the directive, but I snapped his picture. Soon a bored redhead appeared inside a stage-crafted cage, while the puffy-faced man told the story of her capture from the dark continent. As the lights dimmed further a projector aimed on the transparent screen she stood behind began to metamorphose the fair maiden into a hairy beast. A sudden bang, a puff of smoke, and a flash of red light was followed by a man in a gorilla suit cavorting about the stage, while the puffy-faced barker shouted "Run for your lives! Gabora has escaped! Please exit at the rear of the tent."

"Oh look Sue!" I pointed "Myrna the Mermaid. The tiny girl who lives in a goldfish bowl. And it's only a dollar."

"I've seen that one before." Susan laughed "You get what you pay for. It's a sea monkey."

The Great Geauga County Fair has something for everyone. From apple pies to giant zucchini, hot air balloons and demolition derbies, square dancers and tractors. You can buy a new lawn mower, listen to the Geauga Fair Band play old show tunes, or pet an alpaca. Most important of all for our happy little troop, you can eat just about anything ever concocted that can be served on a stick, raise your blood sugar, or elevate your cholesterol.

I can't think of a better way to end the summer.

Check out the sidebar for more Fair photos.

Safety and Security in Cleveland Schools

2008-08-28T18:37:00.004-05:00

This week I began the nineteenth year of my commute along the Shoreway to Cleveland's near west side.

This is a neighborhood which was considered "tough" twenty years ago by the exurbanites, whose families fled the city during the turbulent sixties and de-seg seventies. A decade later the area was dubbed "interesting" by the hipsters, who were soon followed by developers, greedily buying up the cheap property to build chic new condos for the ever-so-trendy, new urbanism-embracing, young professionals. New theaters, art galleries, and restaurants have been springing up from the Cuyahoga River to West Boulevard. Today the Ohio City/Detroit-Shoreway neighborhoods are no longer on the Realtor's list of bargain basement give-aways.

Do I feel safer? Of course not. This is a city. Safety should never be taken for granted in the city.

Last week a reader posed an interesting question on my post regarding the Cleveland Municipal School District's status falling from Continuous Improvement to Academic Watch.

Journalist Wendy Hoke asked:

"Just wondering how X-ray machines and metal detectors at every entry are going to "make our environment welcoming" to parents and students. Sanders talked about the disconnect between community and schools during his state of the schools address last Friday. Security is important, but if you create a prison-like atmosphere, aren't you reinforcing negative behaviors by establishing a culture in which kids are perceived as potential threats? I'd be very interested to know what you and other CMSD teachers think about this."

I had to think about that one for a quick minute. What is the culture of Max Hayes, and will (or did) metal detectors change this culture?

Max Hayes is such a unique environment, it is hard to compare it to any other high school I've ever been in. The building looks like a factory from the street and smells like one in the hallways. Kids dressed in work boots, goggles, tool belts, and coveralls jostle amongst their colleagues in polo shirts and khakis. Banter is chummy for the most part, and the relatively small student body of 550 students makes it easy for students and staff to get to know one another. The culture at Max Hayes feels an awful lot like family.

The metal detectors and Tenable guards came into the building last winter. During the first week students and faculty complained about the hassle, but eventually the screening became part of the routine for the kids, and the staff were no longer required to go through security. As the Tenable guards got to know the kids, the security checks became less intimidating. The chronically late students couldn't get into school without being chided for tardiness, and friendly chatter soon replaced stern directives.

I have spent some time as a visitor in a prison, and so I will adamently say from personal experience, "No!" The metal detectors in the schools do not create a prison-like atmosphere. The culture of prison is suspicious, unsympathetic, and often harsh...and that's just in the visitation room. The security screening in school is quite different, more akin to an airport.

The more important question is this: Are students and teachers safer with metal detectors in the buildings? I'm not sure. They most certainly will deter a random act of violence by a stranger, (these have happened in the schools) but would they prevent a student from taking out revenge on teachers and classmates?

I asked my classes.

The student's response was a unanimous "No. If somebody wanted to get a gun into the building there are plenty of ways to get around security."

The next phase of Dr Sanders security plan is the one I believe will have a real impact on building safety, especially as it applies to potentially dangerous situations that might develop within the school. The proposed addition of more school psychologists, social workers, and new professional development sessions for school personnel regarding troubled students, would have the greastest effect toward the prevention of tragedies like last October's shooting at Success Tech. Developing a culture of awareness, caring, and kindness is an essential step in the process of identifying problems and getting students the help they need.

At Max Hayes we are doing that pretty well already.

Peter Drucker on Teachers

2008-08-25T05:30:00.005-05:00

"Teaching is the only major occupation of man for which we have not developed tools that make an average person capable of competence and performance. In teaching we rely on the "naturals", the ones who somehow know how to teach."

Peter Drucker

This photograph is of a sandstone relief decorating the west side of the Cleveland Board of Education building on East Sixth Street.

Summer Project - 1965 VW Beetle: Part 7

2008-08-24T18:48:00.005-05:00

Beetle Update: At last the sheet metal work on the Volkswagen is finished! All the nasty rust has been cut away and replaced with either brand new parts or new metal patches. The welding is complete and the seams have been ground smooth.

Little blue Barney is now one very solid buggy.

The Optimist decided to replace the front apron entirely, since the original didn't straighten out as nicely as he'd hoped for. Next step, he says, is to smooth out the surface with fiberglass.

It's much better to watch parts of the car coming together, rather than see pieces coming off. It's kind of like the light at the end of the tunnel.

It looks like the proposed end of August completion date may have to be pushed into September. You see, Tom has needed to spend a whole lot of time with the day job lately. But, as much as I want to get this car on the road, you won't hear me complain one bit. Business has been good.

Yes, you read it correctly...Good.

In this economy?... In NE Ohio?...A manufacturing company?...Who would have guessed?

Besides The Optimist.

To be continued...

Academic Watch

2008-08-22T05:11:00.005-05:00

The word is official, Cleveland schools are back on the Academic Watch list.

Am I surprised? Not at all.

From my view point in the classroom, not much has changed beyond the way students are dressed to come to school, and the addition of extra security guards (the private Tenable Security Company) to keep an eye on the exits and entrances in the morning. Oh, and let's not forget the metal detectors.

When Dr Sanders came to Cleveland he spent a good part of the first year listening to the community, and he acted on their concerns. Safety and security are improving, and the students come to school appropriately dressed. New programs and specialty schools are springing up all over the district. All good things for sure.

But...

Maybe now it's time to ask the folks who are directly involved with the students what would help us do our jobs. Ask us where we see the need for improvement.

In my building, the one big problem last year was staffing in key academic areas. Unfortunately, there were several teachers with long term health issues, which resulted in a revolving door of substitute teachers. Without regular teachers in the classrooms, learning just isn't going to happen.

The other major problem related to staffing is the annual fiasco of scheduling at the start of the school year. Teachers are shifted from one building to another from the month of August through the middle of October, to adjust for changes in student populations. In turn, the master schedule in each school must be adjusted, which means student schedules get changed. This results in first quarter chaos which has become business as usual in Cleveland. Twenty years ago I was advised by a veteran colleague to delay putting names in my grade book until the end of the fall quarter, since the class lists would change almost daily until after the final ADM week counts were submitted. Two decades later, I still pass that same good advice along to new Cleveland teachers.

Well, that's my two cents this morning.

If anyone wants to hear the other 98 cents worth of my observations, all you have to do is ask.

First Day Advice for New Teachers

2008-08-19T20:26:00.011-05:00

Tomorrow (Wednesday) is my last day of vacation, and I intend to savor it like a reforming smoker enjoys the final drags of his last cigarette. New teacher orientation for CMSD teachers is being held this week at the Cleveland IX Center. Although asked to be a presenter for the event, I selfishly declined. More enticing than the extra pay is the luxury of extending my summer a few days more.

Slap me if I'm lying, but I'm kind of looking forward to the coming school year. I had a really fun group of students last year in the 10th and 11th grades who will be juniors and seniors this year, and several of them are actually talented. I think I might even have enough interested students to have a decent art club, so I'm planning some after-school studio and gallery visits. I have a couple of local artists who will be working in the shops, and will also be resurrecting the visiting artist discussion series.

During the month of August, I always notice an unusually high number of new readers who find this blog by Googling "Teachers' First Day of School". Over the years I've written about my first day as a new student teacher, my first day back in class after summer vacation, as well as my observations of kids on their first day back at school, but I have a feeling many of those Googlers are probably looking for something else. The search words seem to indicate nervous rookies who need a little advice before they stand alone in front of a room full of students for the first time.

Whether a college student intern, or an experienced veteran in a new job, the first day is usually a mix of excitement and apprehension. I have served as a mentor teacher for quite a few student interns over the course of my career, and they all have very similar concerns before they teach their first lesson.

What advice do I have for new teachers as they prepare for opening day?

You are most certainly armed with lesson plans, unit goals, curriculum maps, assessment tools, and classroom management strategies. You have reviewed your textbooks, copied your work sheets and printed your hand outs. Now what?

I am going to tell you a secret. This bit of advice is rarely included in any teachers ed course, but it is the simplest thing in the world, and it will make the all the difference not only for your first day, but for the duration of your career:

Smile.

I had a professor in college who advised his eduction classes, "Don't smile for the first three months of school. Your students will see it as a sign of weakness." He obviously took his own advice. It was no surprise Dr. Grimace was no longer in a classroom with kids. He may have had a PhD in education, but he was not inspirational, or passionate, or remotely interesting. He most definitely couldn't teach. The most valuable lesson I took away from that class was what NOT to do.

Most people respond to a smile positively. Students will do just about anything for a teacher who likes them. If kids thinks a teacher doesn't care, or if the teacher acts aloof or superior, students (especially in middle and high school) will inevitably see that attitude as an invitation to make the instructor miserable, knock him down a notch or two. Power plays don't work as discipline strategies, neither does anger. Bitchiness begets more of the same. Kindness is the most effective classroom management strategy, but it isn't always easy.

There are going to be days when you feel cranky. Fake the smile. Like a used car salesman, consider it part of the job. The surprising benefit is, you will start feeling better.

Now, I'm sure this is sounding awfully Pollyanna...but, that's just the way it is. I realize there will be students in your class who are difficult to like. Some kids are annoying, some are mean, others are insolent. Try your hardest to find something good about them, and if you can't, once again...Fake it. Make the effort to spend a little time with them one on one, get to know their story, figure them out. Since these are the kids whose behavior will undoubtedly elicit the phrase, "I need to see you after class", surprise them by starting a friendly conversation instead of launching a diatribe about appropriate behavior. These kids are used to being yelled at, and they've built up an immunity to it. Rather than delivering a punishment, don't even bring up the infraction, ask what they did over the summer. You might discover the elusive "likable" something that isn't evident when the whole class is around. It is also quite possible you will be the first adult to ever act interested in them.

I've had colleagues who would sit in the teachers lounge day after day complaining about students, some would even be bragging about how many "F's" they gave out. Stay away from these people. Good teachers don't hate kids. Don't ever confuse being a "tough" teacher with being a good teacher. If a high percentage of a teacher's students fail the class, that teacher has failed to teach a whole lot of their students.
In the manufacturing industry, if a company fails to deliver a product it either improves its practice to satisfy the customer, or it goes out of business. In education when we fail to deliver, we blame the students (or their parents) and keep on being disfunctional. Is it no surprise urban schools have drop out rates hovering around 50%?

Next, find a good teacher on the staff, and make a friend. If you want to know who the best teachers are, ask the kids. That teacher will be the one who will also have the time to help you. There will be a lot of paperwork, and new procedures. Don't be afraid to ask questions. Develop a camaraderie with your peers. If the staff goes out after school, join them. You will learn more over a beer and basket of wings than you did in any college course.

Finally, try not to take things home with you. Get as much work done at school as you can, and do your best to leave your students problems back in the classroom. This can be really difficult, especially if you work in a district like Cleveland where poverty is the norm. Remember, you have your own life, and if you don't, for God's sake get busy and make one.

Politics, Economy, and Hope on Cleveland's East Side

2008-08-19T07:06:00.003-05:00

"Do we participate in a politics of cynicism or a politics of hope?”

Barack Obama

A picture is worth a thousand words. This Superior Avenue storefront in the Glenville neighborhood says it all. I've added a new slide show of some of my favorite photos I took this summer while exploring Cleveland's neighborhoods. Click on the photo in the sidebar to enlarge the pictures

Almost that Time

2008-08-18T07:27:00.000-05:00

I stopped by the school last week to drop off some of the art materials I've collected for my students over the summer. Although I was tempted for a hot second to start putting my classroom back in order... I resisted. There will be plenty of time for that later. Department Chairs are scheduled to return to our buildings on August 21st. Although we have meetings to attend there will also be time to work in our rooms and prepare for students.
I have resolved to cherish these last few days of my summer vacation, and focus on the moment. I will try to squeeze as much enjoyment out of these final unscheduled hours as I can.
This morning that meant sleeping in.

Cleveland Fruit Share Comes to the Rescue

2008-08-16T17:19:00.003-05:00

"I prayed for a late frost, but Mother Nature didn't want to hear it."

Susan hated the old pear tree that shaded her deck and driveway ever since the first year she bought the house.

"Who knew those lovely white blossoms would stink like dirty underpants? How many times I would walk onto the deck that first spring and wonder where that nasty, musty, smell was coming from. It's worse than a locker room. More like sitting on a bus next to a sweaty guy who hasn't bathed for a month."

Pointing at the branches straining with the weight of an overly abundant crop, she continued, "Last year I was so lucky, we had that blizzard in April which killed off all the buds, this year the tree has more pears than ever."

The fruit looked larger than usual too, probably because of the perfect intervals of rain North East Ohio gardeners were blessed with this summer. Trouble is, Susan is neither a gardener nor a cook.

"C'mon, now. How many pears can a girl eat in a few weeks?"

Worse by far than the Spring Stank was the Late Summer Litter.

"Every time I walk out to my car I get pears sticking to the bottom of my shoes. The pears drop all over my deck and my driveway. My dogs and the squirrels leave half eaten remnants, and then the yellow jackets show up, buzzing around. This tree is nothing but a nuisance."

Rolling her eyes in frustration she added, "I'm thinking about having it cut down."

"Hey, Sue! I think I may have a solution to your Pear Problem. Check your e-mail" was the message I left on her cell phone.

A discussion on REALNEO about urban gardens and social networks led me to the website of a brand new organization called Cleveland Fruit Share. The group connects the folks who would like to pick fruit with people who have fruit trees that need harvesting. They also keep their eyes open for fruit trees on abandoned or vacant lots and organize groups to make the trip with ladders and baskets. There are no membership fees, the group is made up entirely of volunteers.

Fruit trees can be a bit like ex-boyfriends; one woman's pain-in-the-neck can be another woman's dream date. As much as Susan hated the mushy slip-and-slide in her driveway, the pears were tasty, and it was a shame to let them all go to waste. She contacted the group immediately.

Saturday afternoon Bobbi, Michelle, and Dolores showed up as promised, and in almost no time, that tree was cleaned of it's crop. The pears were off the branches and into the bushel baskets, with only a few remaining at the very top of the tree, where it was impossible for anyone but the squirrels to reach.

The Cleveland Fruit Share gals thankfully took most of the pears, leaving Susan a couple buckets full, still more than she would ever use, so she is gifting friends and neighbors with fruit. Her next door neighbor loves to bake, so I'm guessing she will probably be the biggest pear beneficiary. (Especially since she sends over a slice or two of whatever comes out of the oven!)

Support For the Arts? Just Lip Service.

2008-08-13T21:22:00.002-05:00

For the second time this year, I attended a Zero Landfill "harvest day", scavenging through piles of discontinued sample books, last years' fabric swatches, ceramic tiles, roofing shingles, vinyl and linoleum flooring, brightly colored rubber baseboards, multi-textured glass bock, and an infinite variety of wall paper, and carpet squares. All these items are donated by local architecture and design firms, to be recycled by artists and educators, turned into art, and kept from entering our nations' landfills.

Why do I do this?

My reasons are not all tree-hugger and environmental, as noble as those motivations might be. No, I scavenge out of necessity - me, and the scores of other Cleveland teachers digging through the piles of designer discards.

You see, the average supply budget for art teachers in the Cleveland Municipal School District is $300 for the school year. Most high school teachers have five or six art classes totaling 150-170 students. Let's do the math kids...That comes to approximately $1.76-$2.00 per student to spend on art supplies for a school year that lasts 36 weeks. And how much do you think $2.00 buys in today's economy? At the dollar store I can buy a pack of 20 pencils and two pink erasers.

Unlike suburban schools, we cannot charge parents a materials fee, in fact, we are not even supposed to ask students to bring in their own supplies.

In order to do any project beyond pencil sketching on copy paper, Cleveland art teachers most often dip into our own salaries to supplement the materials bought with the meager school budget. We haunt yard sales and the close-out aisles at Marc's. Some teachers have even been known to dig clay out of creek beds so students could learn how to make ceramics. We also write grants and beg for donations. This has been the situation district-wide for approximately the past six years due to a shrinking tax base, competition with charter schools, cuts in state funding, and a failed levy.

Teachers are constantly encouraged to integrate math and reading into our art lessons. So in the spirit of math integration, I submit this simple problem. There are 140 visual arts teachers in the Cleveland Municipal School District, if each teacher gets $300 to buy art supplies each year, how much money does the district spend annually on art supplies for approximately 23,000 students who take visual art in a given year?

The answer is: $42,000 .

Keep in mind the dollar amount is approximate - some principals are more generous with their buildings' discretionary funds, and others are very stingy and will divide a few hundred dollars up between visual art and music classes, since they both fall under the Fine Arts Department description - but I guarantee it is not that far off.

The district claims to support the arts, but it seems to me those claims are mostly lip service. I wish that they would finally put some money where their mouth is.

How about this idea? Hire one less consultant and double the money for art supplies. Eliminate an administrator, and triple the art supply budget. Then maybe our students could have an arts experience comparable to the kids in the suburbs.

The community has complained long and loud about tax dollars that never seem to reach the classroom to directly impact students. From the front lines of the education battle field, today I add my voice.

Summer Project - 1965 VW Beetle: Part 6

2008-08-12T23:46:00.003-05:00

"Now that is, by far, the rustiest bug I've ever seen."
The Optimist smiled, shaking his head before bending over to crawl inside the carcass of the Volkswagen Beetle. He pulled out the rotting back seat and searched in vain for any last salvageable part.
"Nothing," he pronounced.
That body, picked clean many years ago, was too far gone.

The previous afternoon, my brother Rob called to tell me he was helping his father-in-law clean out one of his barns, and there was a pile of salvaged parts from an old Volkswagen up in the hayloft. Did I think Tom would be interested?
"Interested? Thrilled is more like it."
"Well, some of the stuff is rusty, and I'm not sure what year it is, but he can have it all for free if he takes the lot."

The next morning we pulled up the driveway of the Jerome's 175 year old farmhouse in Strongsville, and were greeted by Rob and his wife's' parents Jim and Val.
Jim, retired from a long career as Strongsville's fire chief, spends his time these days traveling with his wife and tinkering with antique cars.
The old 1966 Beetle was a restoration project that seemed like a good idea a number of years ago, but eventually was abandoned in favor new adventures.

"Pull the truck back there." Rob motioned to a large barn at the back end of the rustic compound.
Climbing a steep staircase to the second floor, we walked carefully through two dusty rooms filled with the remnants of a bygone agricultural era.
Stacked in a far corner, illuminated by sunlight streaming through the open door of the hayloft, we could see a pile of doors, window glass, fenders, bumpers, a deck lid, wheels, and the unmistakable curve of a beetle hood. Many of these pieces were formerly attached to the skeletal Volkswagen in the woods.

To save repeated trips up and down the treacherous staircase, Jim brought around an old tractor rigged with a front end loader, the scoop plenty big enough to carry even the largest pieces. One part after another came down, and in no time, the truck was filled.

When we got the load home that afternoon and sorted through the stack, we found a few parts that Barney, our '65 Bug could use.

"We'll have to make some room in the garage" said The Optimist with a dangerous gleam in his eye. "You never know what we might need for the next Beetle project."

To be continued...

WOW - My First Wade Oval Wednesday

2008-08-07T08:15:00.008-05:00

"Hi MB!"
It was my good friend Tony Cuda's voice on the other end of the phone.

"Have you ever been to a Wade Oval Wednesday? "

"Well, I've heard of them, does that count?"

"Let's go this Wednesday," he laughed. " I've been to a few, and can't help thinking that you would really enjoy yourself."
I always do have a good time when Tony invites me to an event, no matter where we go. Between his involment in local politics and the music scene, Tony seems to know almost everyone in Cleveland, and has introduced me to some of the most interesting people.

Wade Oval Wednesdays are free family concerts, held weekly all summer long, in the big green space (Wade Oval) that lies between the Cleveland Museum of Art, The Natural History Museum, and The Cleveland Botanical Gardens.

This week an Irish folk band, The New Barley Corns, who I've had the pleasure of listening to at many an Irish festival over the years, entertained the crowd.

I was surprised at the number of people attending this event. We heard later on it was the largest crowd so far this summer.

Little children stormed the stage whenever the band played a brisk Gaelic tune. So many young families here in Cleveland still connect with their Irish roots, and continue to pass this ancestral pride on to their kids.

Tiny feet enchanted the audience, adding a little extra, impromptu, entertainment to the scheduled performance. Irish dancing is definitely not a lost art in Cleveland, Ohio.

Tony and I met two of the most laid-back beautiful greyhounds ever. Their owner (a fellow Cleveland teacher) rescued them both from abuse, neglect, and a scheduled date for euthanasia.

Although I've seen greyhounds before, it was always at a distance. After meeting these elegant, sweet tempered creatures, I would seriously consider a greyhound when the day comes I ever would want to get a dog to replace my buddy Max.

My sincere applause to Chris Ronayne and University Circle Inc. for sponsoring Wade Oval Wednesdays. This is exactly the type of event that showcases the best of side Cleveland.

I definitely recommend my Cleveland readers make an effort to get over to University Circle on a Wednesday evening before the end of summer, especially if you have children or grandchildren. Go with your neighbors, enjoy the music, and remember the event is free.

Click here to check out the WOW schedule.

Was She Talking About Cleveland?

2008-08-05T08:49:00.003-05:00

"When you see that trading is done, not by consent, but by compulsion -when you see that in order to produce, you need permission from men who produce nothing - when you see that men get richer by graft and by pull than by work, and your laws don't protect you against them, but protect them against you - when you see corruption being rewarded and honesty becoming self-sacrifice - you may know that your society is doomed."

Ayn Rand

The Waterloo Arts Festival: Clevelanders Play

2008-08-03T08:07:00.001-05:00

"Aww...Brian should have come with me." Those were my first thoughts when I walked up to the corner of East 156th and Waterloo in Clevelands' North Collinwood Neighborhood. My 16 year old, whose main form of transportation for the past 6 years has been four wheels on seven layers of wood, told me earlier in the day he would check out the art festival with me, but a last minute phone call from one of his friends offered a more enticing Saturday afternoon than hanging out with Mom. I walked into the crowd surrounding the ramps and rails set up in the middle of the street and got a few shots of the skaters. I wanted to make sure I could rub it in later on, when I told him about my evening.

"Hey! Ms. Matthews!"

I turned around, and for a moment I didn't recognize the young woman waving at me. But then she took off her Hollywood sunglasses and smiled...Aziza Nicholson! It has been twelve short years since she sat in my Art History Class at the Cleveland School of Science.
A young entrepreneur, she now goes by the name of Aziza Yasmine, and has opened a business on Buckeye Rd in Cleveland, A II Z Naturals Studio Ltd. She had a booth set up at the festival where she sat with her parents selling boutique items from her salon, organic beauty products, designer bags, and hair pieces. She was excited to tell me about her recent trip to China, where she is working with manufacturers on her own line of hair pieces.

Running into my former students has to be one of the most satisfying parts of this line of work.

The art galleries were busy when I got to the festival, and since I prefer looking at artwork by myself when I can concentrate, I spent most of my time soaking up the activity on the street. I regret that I arrived so late, as vendors and festival volunteers were already starting to pack things up. The crowd had thinned, but was still a fascinating study of 21st century Cleveland, a neighborhood redefining itself, neighbors at play.
The thing I love most about the Waterloo Arts Festival is the laid back atmosphere, like a block party where everyone is invited. Yeah, that's the thing about Waterloo; even though I've never lived there, the neighbors always make me feel like one of them, like part of the family.

Summer Project: 1965 VW Beetle - Part 5

2008-08-02T16:42:00.003-05:00

"You know there's a lot more work to this thing than I first thought."

After waiting a couple of weeks for parts to start arriving, the Optimist has thrown himself wholeheartedly back into restoring Barney to his 1965 former glory. New shocks, new brake lines, new floor pans, new heater channels, new front and rear panels, and new sheet metal to replace the rusted stuff.

"Ve vill get it done!" He assures me, in the feigned burgermeister accent, that seems to be inspired by the little German car.

This week has been consumed with welding and grinding. A whole lot of hard work on his part, to be sure, but it does make for some pretty pictures from my side of the camera.

The completion date has been pushed along a few more weeks.

"End of the month," he nods "We'll be on the road by the end of the month."

To be continued...

Summer in Cleveland: Loving the Lakefront

2008-08-01T09:20:00.003-05:00

"That breeze feels good." I lifted my hair up off of my neck with one hand and wiped my damp skin with the other.

"What do think about taking a drive out to Whiskey Island for a beer? Can I twist your arm?" Tom's hopeful smile was even more convincing than the hot sun.

Clevelanders migrate to the lakefront when the temperature rises. The parking lot at Wendy Park was nearly filled to capacity. The volleyball courts were jammin', the restaurant was packed, families were picnicking, and couples strolled along the shore. Sitting in the shade near the water's edge, Tom and I sipped our beer and watched the sailboats racing in the harbor. A few years ago we would have been almost lonely here on Whiskey Island. It was nice to see how many people are enjoying the lake these days. I smiled a silent "Thank you" to our friend Ed Hauser.

The sun was nearing the horizon when Tom suggested we drive over to the pier at Edgewater State Park for some ice cream. Edgewater is were the real Clevelanders come to play. Young and old, every ethnicity...roller blading shirtless men, kite flying young families, Frisbee throwing couples, dog chasing children, and all up and down the breakwall, people gazing out over the water...at the gulls, the waves, the boats, or at their fishing lines.

A people-watchers delight, I would have been happy to spend a couple of hours wandering around with my camera. But Tom was tired, he had been working since 6:00 AM, and the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, so we finished our ice-cream and headed back to the Heights. As we drove back, I sighed and wished the east side of town had as vibrant a waterfront as the west side.

Cleveland's greatest asset has always been the lake. In a nation where sunbelt cities have become parched and water-rationed, we reside on a fresh water paradise. For years our city leaders have paid lip service to expanding the public's access to the water front, but corporate interests continue to prevail, keeping a tight grip on the miles of Cleveland shoreline that only boaters ever see. What a pity, in this city personal profit trumps vision every time.

Clinging to Hope in East Cleveland

2008-07-30T10:17:00.001-05:00

Always intrigued by the road less traveled, I set out once again to explore the side streets of the inner-city. The images of poverty are overwhelming and heart wrenching. Despair weeps from vandalized buildings and railroad overpasses, marked in spray-paint by the drug boys claiming their turf. Businesses, long gone, have left behind a ghost town. Suburbanites mostly avoid the area, even the numbered state routes carry very few cars during rush hour.

Yet this morning I found evidence of hope.

An elderly gentleman carries his cane and pulls a cart along a weedy Euclid Avenue sidewalk. One of the forgotten Americans, he searches the littered curbs in front of boarded-up storefronts, for aluminum cans that can be traded for cash. Tucked in the seam of his collection basket the Stars and Stripes hangs, unwaving yet proud, in the humid morning air.

Amidst an entire block of abandoned and vandalized houses, this purple home shouts praise and pride. It's facade, a work of art, has become both painted canvas and sculpture. The resident's messages of hope and love call out to neighbors and passers-by, not to be ignored.

At the end of a street emblazoned with cryptic graffiti, tags, and the aerosol warnings that one has entered gang territory, a different hand has painted a plaintive message.

Peace.

2008-07-26T23:32:00.001-05:00

"I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers."

~Claude Monet

Country Afternoon

2008-07-26T07:24:00.000-05:00

"The berries are ripe. Did you want to come and pick?"

My sister, Suzanne, lives on a farm in Auburn Township, out Geauga County way. When she and her husband bought the old farm house back in the 90's, they inherited a prolific patch of several dozen blueberry bushes. Suzy takes loving care of the berry patch, weeding, mulching, treating the bushes with organic pest repellent, and protecting the crop from the birds and other creatures who would greedily harvest the blueberries themselves.

Berry picking, although therapeutic when working solo, is best when engaged in as a social activity. So I called my brother David, and four of us, David, Suzanne, my nephew Ryan, and I, spent a perfect July afternoon amongst the bushes; picking, tasting, talking, and laughing. That evening, I brought home a few pounds of blueberries in a huge Tupperware bowl. There are lots to eat fresh and plenty still to freeze. Now, I think I'll get back to looking up recipes.

More Cleveland Graffiti

2008-07-24T07:39:00.003-05:00

On Hayen Avenue in East Cleveland, neighbors repainted an abandoned corner store that had become a message board for local gangsters. Although the neighbors seem to be fighting a loosing battle against the taggers, the painted walls still add an urban coolness to this depressed neighborhood.

Looking up from the dashboard, I noticed a train stopped on the bridge ahead. One of Cleveland's best taggers left a holiday message on the side of this box car a few years ago. Ridl's graffiti transcends tagging and crosses that ambiguous line into the realm of art. I am proud to say, he is a former student, a Max Hayes alum.

How can anyone even mention Cleveland graffiti without HEK. Not the most talented but certainly the most prolific tagger in the city. He has left his mark EVERYWHERE. I understand he has recently been outed by the justice system, and is now a bonafide art criminal.

A ghost image discovered under the Detroit-Superior bridge.

No artistic talent what-so-ever, but plenty of passion.
I found this remnant of summer love on the break wall at Gordon Park.

2008-07-23T10:19:00.003-05:00

"The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning."

Ivy Baker Priest

Why Would Someone Do That?

2008-07-22T05:33:00.004-05:00

"Hey look Tom! There's a bike hanging from that tree."

It was early spring, and we were enjoying a beautiful afternoon exploring neighborhoods on Cleveland's near west side. Driving down the hill from Tremont toward the river I spotted the bicycle, carefully hung, high in the branches of a tree next to an old garage.

"Why would anyone hang a bike in a tree?

"I dunno, but turn around I want to take a picture."

Later this summer I was out with my sister Suzanne in Bainbridge, when she asked,

"Have you ever seen the Shoe Tree?

"The what?"

Since I had no idea what she was talking about, we drove down Haskins Rd...

There it stood, glorious, in a patch of woods alongside an isolated stretch of the quiet country road, dozens of shoes nailed to an old maple tree, with several pieces of abandoned footwear lying on the ground, apparently too difficult to drive a nail through.

Why would somebody do that?

"I'm not sure, it been here for years. Somebody nailed the first shoe to the tree and then more and more shoes began to appear."

"Have you ever nailed a shoe to the tree?"

"No, but I thought about it."

Turning down East 52nd St. off of St. Clair, I noticed a portable basketball hoop set up in the street. I slowed down, just in case there might be some kids still playing around, and then I stopped, backed up, and reached for my camera in the back seat. Hanging from the overhead wires were not one, but four pairs of shoes . And, once again, I asked

"Why would someone do that?"

Cleveland Skyline: Things Look Lovely at a distance

2008-07-20T19:49:00.000-05:00

Last week Tom and I had dinner at Pier W. It was one of those days the TV weatherman describes as "partly sunny with scattered showers". In between showers Tom and I strolled out onto the pier, and I just happened to have my camera. (I always have my camera these days, since I was finally convinced by my daughter to get a larger, more fashionable bag. It's amazing how much crap I can carry around now.)
I love the way the clouds above the city have parted and the how sunlight is hitting the skyline towers just right. It looks like something wonderful is about to happen.

Pink Prisoner

2008-07-19T19:16:00.000-05:00

Art is where you find it.

I came across this pink flamingo peeking through the barbed wire behind an auto parts store on West 25th Street. I guess this is what happens to the ones who dare to leave the lush lawns of Parma Heights and venture into the big city.

Classism and Arts Education: A Need for School Funding Reform in Ohio

2008-07-18T21:32:00.009-05:00

I figured I would add one more post to the series on my summer class at the Holden Arboretum. It is more of a reflection and commentary than my other entries thus far.

As I mentioned earlier this week, the "Art and the Natural World" workshop drew teachers from all over North East Ohio, and about eight of us from the Cleveland Municipal School District. An easy camaraderie developed, and naturally, conversations were most often about our own classes and schools.

The stark difference between the CMSD teachers and those who worked anywhere else was obvious the very first day of the workshop, when we were handed sheets of copper foil to work with. While the suburban teachers were considering foil projects for their students, CMSD teachers were all muttering, "I could never afford a project like this."

The comments continued through the rest of the week:

"My school doesn't have a kiln, so we can't do ceramics."

"We have an old kiln, but no money to fix it. "

"Last year I was given a budget of only $200 to buy art supplies for the entire year."

"My principal won't let us take field trips. She says we can't afford the bus."

" Our principal won't let me take my students on a field trip. He said we can't afford to pay for a sub to cover my other classes

" We can't go outside to draw, the neighborhood is too dangerous."

"Last year I did watercolor painting with my classes. I had to buy all the paint myself, and we used copy paper instead of watercolor paper."

"I supply all the pencils for my classes, if I didn't we couldn't even draw."

The suburban teachers would each breathe a quiet comment like, "Gee, that must be tough " or "Wow, you pay for your student's supplies?" and ease away from the group with "Thank God I don't work there" looks on their faces.

When you work in a district that doesn't have money for basic supplies, you begin to make-do with what you have, and figure out ways to get what you need. A new art teacher at John Marshall High School was assigned to teach a ceramics class, (the equipment had been purchased with money from a grant written by a teacher who was transferred) but there was no money for clay. Rather than tell the administration that he couldn't teach a ceramics class without clay, he went to a creek and dug out clay and hauled it to school for his students to use. Art teachers in Cleveland will beg companies for donations, write for grants, and take money out of their own pay checks, just because we know how valuable the creative experience is.

Governor Strickland told the Cleveland City Club last week that the inequality in education funding was a priority that is being studied during 2008, his first year in office, and will be addressed in 2009 by new legislation he hopes will be approved. For the sake of Cleveland's children, and the future of this city, I hope this state's politicians can come up with a plan that will provide a fair solution . I've never understood why other states had school funding methods that worked, but Ohio couldn't figure it out. What has been the sticking point?

It seems a shame that opportunities like these, to enjoy nature and create art, have become the privilege of the suburban set.

I had hoped the American Dream was somewhat more inclusive.

Making Art at Holden Arboretum

2008-07-18T06:45:00.002-05:00

This week I've probably made more art than I have in any five day period of time since my undergrad days at Ohio University.

The class, Art in the Natural World, consists of approximately 25 teachers from districts across North East Ohio. Most of us are art teachers, some are elementary teachers who teach art in their classes. All week long we have participating in lessons that get us roaming around the grounds of the Holden Arboretum to find inspiration for the art we are working on that day. Each day is a different project (sometimes two or three) in a different medium.

On Monday the first lesson was the creation of a book to use as a journal for the class. The cover of the journal was decorated with a copper foil design derived from the sketches we worked on by Holden Pond that morning. I spent my time buried in a winterberry bush. I wasn't too happy with my final product, but not disgusted either.

Tuesday we talked about Green Men, and looked at various examples. We spent the later part of the morning sketching in the woods, and returned to the studio to create our own version of a Green Man in clay. Mine became a Green Woman

Wednesday was spent in the butterfly garden painting in watercolor. I couldn't decide on a flower, so I painted the field across the from the garden.

Thursday we collected material from the gardens to be used in various forms of print making. We made linoleum block prints, worked with photo paper and plant materials in the dark room, and printed off of a dead fish. Printmaking has never been my thing. I get so frustrated with the process.. I did enjoy working in the dark room though.

I'm posting these photos this morning before I head off to the last class. Today we will be working with pastels.

I've been having some very interesting conversations with teachers from other districts, and will share some of the things I've been reflecting on relating to teaching art in Cleveland. One thing I'll tell you right now ... it sucks to be a "Have Not".

Classes at the Holden Arboretum

2008-07-17T06:25:00.000-05:00

I'm spending the week at the Holden Arboretum taking a summer class for educators called "Art in the Natural World". Of all the education classes I've had to take over the years, I think this may be the best one ever.

Of course I brought my camera. The gardens are beautiful, and I've taken over a hundred pictures so far. Today I'm posting some snap shots of the grounds, but later this week I'll post some pictures of the class and the artwork we are producing.

There is a wonderful program for families here. This is a living display of edible plants, and plants that like to be sat upon.

If you haven't been to the Holden Arboretum, or perhaps it has been a long time, try to get out to Kirtland this summer. The wet cool weather of the past few months has everything so lush and green. You can't help but appreciate how beautiful North East Ohio is.

Summer Project - 1965 VW Beetle: Part 4 - It's in the Mail

2008-07-16T04:51:00.004-05:00

After a week, this is what we're down to, just a shell. Everything's been stripped off and ready to be cleaned and rust-proofed.

All wrapped up like a big blue burrito, Barney waits. We've been watching the UPS tracking web site. What's taking so long for these parts to get here? Only a few nuts, bolts and grommets have arrived so far, and the left floor pan. So now Barney's got half a floor. We'll see what comes in tomorrow.

To be continued

Miracles and Cures on Euclid Avenue

2008-07-13T23:39:00.002-05:00

I've been traveling Euclid Avenue east of Cleveland quite a bit lately, and it seems my eyes are often drawn to the wooded hills on the south side of the road where figure of the Blessed Virgin gazes serenely down at the six lanes of traffic whizzing past. A sign beside the chain link fence declares that this is the home of the National American Shrine and Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes.
Having a little time on my hands this week , and eager to try out my new camera, ( I had to replace the one ruined in the downpour following the Cleveland Orchestra concert on Public Square) I turned up the drive to visit this sacred destination of pilgrims.

The first time I was at the Grotto was for a field trip back in the early seventies, when I was a student at Notre Dame Academy. I recall about two hundred of my plaid-skirted classmates and I noisily exiting yellow school buses and being herded by the sisters onto the rows of wooden benches to celebrate Mass amidst the trees. Afterwards we were encouraged to walk the path leading through the woods to pray the stations of the cross, and recite the rosary as we followed the stones along Rosary Hill. Not too surprisingly, more than a few groups of girls took advantage of the privacy afforded by the leafy trails to catch a smoke rather than meditate on the sacred mysteries.

I returned again about twenty two years later, under very different circumstances.

My mother passed away suddenly in 1995, and shortly afterwards, my father suffered a mild heart attack, and was told he needed a quintuple bypass. While awaiting his surgery date, he became very sick with what was initially thought to be the flue. After several days in the hospital Dad was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. We were told he was already in the fourth stage, and had about six weeks to "get his affairs in order".

As an adult, my beliefs tended more toward biology than theology, but times of crisis often cause us to re-examine our beliefs, as we scramble to gather every last shred of hope. Desperately seeking a miracle, I remembered stories of the cures attributed to Our Lady of Lourdes, and one afternoon on my way home from visiting my father at the Cleveland Clinic, I stopped to pray at the Grotto, dip my hands in the blessed water flowing from the fountain, and light a candle at the shrine. I stood before the large glass case to the right of the shrine that displayed items donated by pilgrims who had come to the grotto to pray for cures. Letters, pictures, and news paper clippings fill the case, as well as clothing, braces and crutches. Even if there was a God of miracles, why would He listen to the prayers of someone who wasn't even sure there was a God?

A few days later, a Bosnian doctor who was doing research at the Clinic asked my father if he would be interested in participating in a study using a new experimental type of chemotherapy. If he started the chemo, and then decided it was too uncomfortable he could quit the treatment. Dad agreed.

My father has been cancer free for eleven years now.

____________________________________________________

P.S. If you look at the last picture at the bottom right hand corner, and click on the picture to enlarge it, there is a little sign in the glass case next to a leg brace that reads " Cure of Peggy Zone 1956 Leg Cured" Below the sign is a doctors affidavit of her illness and subsequent recovery. Does anyone know if this is the same Peggy Zone who is now the wife of Ohio's Lieutenant Governor Lee Fisher?

Summer Project: 1965 VW Beetle - Part 3: Bug A La Carte

2008-07-12T12:52:00.003-05:00

" C'mon to the shop and take more picture's. Hurry!"

The Optimist's voice sounded like a kid waking up his parents on Christmas morning.
I pulled into the lot and was greeted by a what looked more like a skeleton than a car.

"Whoa!" I thought, "What the hell happened here?"

As I walked into the shop I saw the rest of the car, up above my head, on one of the lifts.

"Take some pictures before it comes down. " said Tom, " I want you to get some good shots of the inside from this angle."

To make sure the body won't shift out of alignment, Tom welded some steel rods to the Beetle's frame to brace it. Something needs to hold little Barney together when he removes the rusted heater channels.

Thursday, while other people were out celebrating Happy Hour after work, the Optimist was getting happy with a welder. Not only did he brace up the Beetle body, but he devised what could only be called a gurney, so that the body could be rolled around the shop and out of the way when all of the lifts were needed for paying customers.

Here's a picture of the body being placed on the gurney. Unlike a lot of other bodies on gurneys, the plan for this one is resurrection.

To be continued

Good Omen

2008-07-12T07:09:00.001-05:00

"What the ...?!"
A flutter of feathers at my shoulder. "I'm being attacked by a bird!" I shouted as I ducked, covering my face with my hands.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Tom turned around and smiled. "I've had a visitor this afternoon."

Looking behind me in the direction of a chirp, I saw a blue parakeet perched on one of the machines just a few feet away. I walked slowly toward the bird slowly and extended my finger. The pretty little creature stepped right on.

" Looks like it's someones pet."

"I was working on the Volkswagen, and it landed right on the door right next to me. It's been hanging around for a while now." Tom said.

"They're both the same color." I mused "Maybe it thought the bug was it's mother...It's enormously huge mother."

Tom filled a little bottle cap with water and offered it to the bird, who took a few sips, then flew off off my finger and onto an air hose. I grabbed my camera and got a couple of pictures before the parakeet flew back out the shop door and disappeared.

" You know, a psychic once told me that when a bird flies into a room it's an omen, a sign of good luck, like the universe is blessing that place." I said " This must mean the business is going to do well."

"It landed on the Volkswagen first." Tom reminded.

"Could be we've got us a lucky bug."

Summer Project: 1965 VW Beetle - Part 2: Taking it Off and Putting it On

2008-07-09T22:41:00.004-05:00

Well, the Optimist has given Barney's restoration a month to complete, and it looks like he means business. The frame has been straightened out, and the crunched-up hood has been replaced already. An old friend just happened to know someone who had some spare VW hoods and engine covers just lying around, and who could have guessed? They fit perfectly!

The fenders were a rusty disaster, so they've got to go. There will be no mud on this bug. New ones have been ordered, and we are waiting for them to be delivered. One of the floor pans came today. The other one is back ordered...Hope it won't take too long.

Hey! What happened to the engine? It's already been pulled out and waiting to be cleaned.

All this in just two afternoons....after work?

I jokingly call Tom "the Optimist", but it looks like the guy knows what he's doing.
So far, so good.

Now I can only say: "I'm impressed".

To be continued

What's so Good About a Rainy Day?

2008-07-09T08:34:00.001-05:00

Looking out at the rain streaming down my window this morning, my initial reaction was, "Dammit! There goes my early morning walk."

At least somebody was happy.

Max, the couch-loving, leash-hating, member of the family just smiled and continued his nap.

Summer Project: 1965 VW Beetle - Part 1

2008-07-07T14:52:00.002-05:00

Driving down Detroit Avenue, like we have hundreds of times before, a tell-tale hump-back caught my eye. Barely visible behind an old factory, surrounded by junked cars, a sea blue Volkswagen Bug sat in the weeds beside to a body shop on the next block.

"Look! An old Volkswagen!" I exclaimed
"Let's check it out." Tom circled around the block.

Hey! Not too bad for a 43 year old who'd been sitting on a back lot for four years. Someone had been playing bumper-cars a few years back, so the little blue bug had some damage to the hood and the engine cover, but the car was basically solid, the interior looked like new, and with a little help from a battery charger and a splash of gasoline, the old engine started right up with a classic "put-put-put" . Much to every one's surprise - except for Tom, the eternal optimist.

We called the owner and made the deal. Six hundred and fifty dollars later the '65 Volkswagen Beetle was ours. The next week Tom drove the little bug off the lot and down the Shoreway, headed toward the East side. I followed behind in the Toyota. You know...just in case. The ride was a slow one, he was afraid to push the little guy too fast.

"Hm-mm" I wondered "What are those little black chunks flying out from underneath the car?"

The Optimist has spent the past few days disassembling the sea blue bug, and surfing the Internet pricing out the parts. Pulling up the carpet revealed a floor pan and heater channels in far worse shape than originally anticipated. Now I know what those black chunks were that came flying off the car on the highway. Thank God the seat didn't fall right through to the asphalt. Two huge holes on both sides. The whole bottom of the car needs to be replaced.

"No problem" says The Optimist. He has already ordered the new one.

I've now dubbed the old Volkswagen "the flintstone mobile". I'm even thinking about naming it "Barney"

To be continued

Fishing the Cuyahoga: Are these Fish Safe to Eat?

2008-07-07T13:27:00.001-05:00

Last night we took a stroll through Wendy Park on Whiskey Island, down to the river.

There were families lined up all along the chain-link fence with their lines cast and buckets filled with the catch of the day. We watched for a while, they were catching perch. I was rather surprised to see so many families fishing here. I recall seeing thousands of dead fish washed up on the river bank just a few months ago, this past spring, that the gulls wouldn't even touch.

Are the fish from this part of the river safe to eat? Who keps the data on the levels of toxins found in the local wildlife? I haven't kept up with the statistics, since I've had a life-long seafood allergy, and I can't eat fish, but quite frankly I'd be afraid to even wade in that murky brown debris-filled water, let alone eat something that grew in it.

There is a relatively new parking lot at the end of the gravel drive which runs alongside the railroad tracks, where most of the fishermen park. The cars here last night were not the BMW's, Mini Coopers, and Lexus found in the west end lot near the marina. They were old Dodge Caravans, Ford Escorts, and Chevy's that had seen better days. These folks seemed to be Clevlanders from the neighborhood. With the price of food skyrocketing, many people have begun growing their own produce, and now that they've discovered a new fishing spot, they are catching their own fish.

If the fish living at the mouth of the Cuyahoga are toxic then families fishing here need to be warned. I realize a sign might not make the image conscious crew at Cleveland Plus too happy, but let's get real, if these fish are poisoned would they want to eat them?

Cleveland Blooms

2008-07-07T12:03:00.001-05:00

Summer brings explosions of color to the night skies as fireworks light the neighborhoods of Cleveland in the weeks before and after Independence Day celebrations. The sidewalks and abandoned lots of the city explode in their own brilliant displays during the month of July when weeds become wildflowers.

The sky blue blossoms of the chicory plant have been a favorite of mine since I was a child. I've read that our ancestors used it as a natural, botanical time piece since the flowers open and close at precisely the same time every day. The young leaves can be gathered in spring for salad, the older leaves cooked, and the roots dried, roasted and ground to blend with coffee. The Romans prescribed it as medicine specifically for liver ailments, and herbalists have used it as a diuretic, a laxative, an anti-inflammatory, a poultice, and boiled it up to make a tonic for just about anything else that might ail you.

Chicory grows best in hostile environments where few other plants survive. It can reach a height of six feet, but will still bloom after repeatedly being mowed an inch or two from the ground. This is a plant that can take a lot of abuse. It is very inconspicuous in the spring, it's leaves easily mistaken for dandelion. Around the first of July rough, stiff, angular stems shoot out from the base of leaves growing almost before your eyes. Tiny brown buds along the woody stem burst open like stars, the color of a perfect summer sky.

If Cleveland were to choose a flower that would symbolize the city and it's people, I would cast my vote for the tough, beautiful, persistent, healing, prolific, die-hard wild flower - the chicory. We have so many things in common

Battered Jesus

2008-06-30T20:01:00.004-05:00

"C'mon Max, it's only Jesus!" I assured, tugging on the leash.

Max the doberman paused, cringed, and sat on the sidewalk in front of the boarded up corner house that had been abandoned nearly a year ago, refusing to walk any further. A low, nervous, growl rumbled in his throat as he turned and started to head in the opposite direction.

"Jeez, it's just a lawn ornament! Let's go! You are such a wuss!" I scolded, pulling him around the corner. His claws scraped the cement like a teacher's nails dragging across a chalkboard.

It had been quite a while since Max and I took this particular route on our daily treks up, down, and around the tree-lined blocks of Cleveland Heights. But still, I was a little surprised that my "guard dog" was suddenly afraid of a statue. Determined to re-establish my authority as "Leader of the Pack", I walked up to the life size concrete figure of Christ and the Sacred Heart.

Cautiously, Max followed.

It was my turn to stop and stare... Now I could see why he was so disturbed.

Once splendidly painted with intense comic book colors, the Jesus at the corner of Elmwood and Erieveiw has been a landmark to a generation of locals in this quiet neighborhood that straddles the border of Cleveland Heights and South Euclid. Placed just a few yards from the sidewalk, the face of the statue, which resembles an over-sized plastic religious action figure or perhaps the Savior from a graphic novel for young Christians, commands the pedestrian to look at his suffering heart, encircled by the symbolic thorns of mankind's sins.

Concrete statuary has a relatively short lifespan, and the Elmwood Jesus proved no exception.
The bright coat of acrylic paint is flaking off in large scaly hunks, like skin falling off of a leper, exposing dark mottled splotches of grey concrete. The head of the statue was broken off at the neck and clumsily reattached with about half a roll of packing tape, which is now peeling off the front of the figure, but continues to hold tight across the back where the tape forms a large woven mat of once-sticky plastic.

"Wow" I thought, "He looks like he is suffering from a whole lot more than sin. The Elmwood Jesus has been wounded and neglected to boot."

As Max and I continued down the block, I couldn't keep my mind off the battered statue. The distress and damage had imbued a poignancy to the garish lawn decor which, in a strange way, elevated it from the realm of tackiness it had previously shared with paintings on black velvet and dashboard figurines. You see, the difference between art and ornament is that art makes you think.

This Jesus was making me think.

I could see in the crumbling Christ similarities to my own relationship with the church of my childhood. No longer the bright and shiny pinnacle of perfection, the Catholic church has been taking quite a beating in both the public realm and in my own personal experience. Corruption, hypocrisy, crime, and scandal continue to degrade the institution. Like the statue, the core of my religious faith remains standing, a few stubborn patches struggle to hold it together. Can it be repaired? Should it be replaced? Neglected, will it eventually disappear?

Yes, the Elmwood Jesus certainly raised a lot of questions that morning, and compelled me to start looking for some answers. Transformed by the ravages of weather and time, I would say the once gaudy religious yard tchotchke has now become a work of art.

Machine Shop

2008-02-28T22:46:00.003-05:00

I've been spending some time down at the shop with my camera, poking around in the bins full of metal, the barrels ful of scrap, and the crates filled with parts. Some of the guys proably think I'm a little weird, taking pictures inside the dumpsters. I don't blame them, it does look weird...Until you look a little closer.

Metal shavings differ from one machine to the next. Each job produces it's own unique scrap. For some reason, I am intrigued by the variety of textures, the subtle changes in color, and the way the light reflects off of the different types of metal.

Metal, once cold and unyeilding, has been transformed into fragile curls and flakes. The chips are mezmerizing, kind of like a Jackson Pollak painting. Stare too long, and one can get lost in the details.

Beauty is where you look for it. Art is where you find it.

Sometimes it can even be found on a factory floor.

Be Jealous

2008-02-27T07:07:00.002-05:00

I have the time this morning to rub it in to all you regular folks...Because I'm blogging from my bed.

My Blackberry buzzed the alert at 5:45 AM just as I was grabbing my bath robe to head to the shower.
Cleveland schools have a snow day this morning!

Rather than immediately head back to bed, I grabbed my camera, aimed it out of my bedroom window, and pressed the button. Then, I crawled back under the blankets with my laptop.

Go ahead be jealous. But you chose to NOT be a teacher.

My City was Gone.

2008-02-24T20:44:00.004-05:00

Last month, I spent several afternoons driving around the East Side, documenting street after street of boarded up houses. Reading about the 15,000 foreclosed homes in Cleveland barely prepared me for the experience of witnessing these devastated neighborhoods firsthand.

Just as striking as the abandoned houses were the empty storefronts and the decaying factories. But the myriad vacant apartment buildings screamed the message the loudest.

"Cleveland is disappearing!"

Each empty apartment complex represents scores, or even hundreds of people who no longer live in Cleveland. The vacancies mirror the abandoned factories and the loss of thousands of manufacturing jobs in Cleveland.

On the right side of the page I have included a slideshow of some of the abandoned apartment buildings that I photographed last month.

Another intriguing statistic is the number of Clevelanders incarcerated outside of the city, who are counted as residents of the district where the prison is located, mostly sparsely populated rural areas. (Even though they do not vote, pay taxes, use the roads or any municipal services such as schools, libraries, etc.)

The number in the year 2002 was 10, 441 Clevelanders imprisoned in other locales.

Because the prison population is growing at an alarming rate nationwide, I am certain that you can add a couple thousand more to that number to reflect the current 2008 statistics.

Census figures show Cleveland has lost more than half of it's citizens since 1950, and nearly 7% of it's population since 2006. At 444,000 people, Cleveland ranked as the 40th largest city in the U.S.; quite a drop from being the 5th largest American city in 1920.

A Plain Dealer article last summer forecast the population decline continuing, and quoted a demographer at Cleveland State, Mark Salling, who predicted that by 2015 the number of Clevelanders will dip below 400,000.

I'm wondering if Mr. Salling took the foreclosure crisis and the booming prison-industrial complex into account at that time. I am guessing the 2010 census will reveal an even more dramatic decline in population than the Plain Dealer article predicted.

My recent wanderings through the city's neighborhoods prompt childhood memories of a vastly different Cleveland.

Not quite the idyllic town of Dick Feagler's reminiscing; I recall a city blackened by factory smoke, with a stink that sickened my stomach. It was crowded and noisy, a dangerous but exciting adventure for this suburban child, when my parents loaded us kids into the big Ford Country Squire wagon to visit my grandparents, who lived near East 131st and Miles, or my Uncle, who had a house near East 70th and Superior.

Those teaming enclaves, the neighborhoods of working class immigrants, are now deteriorating into ghost towns, whose empty and decaying buildings will soon fall victim to the demolition crews.

______________________________________________________

"I went back to Ohio but my city was gone. There was no train station, there
was no downtown. Southtown it had disappeared. All my favorite places. My city
had been pulled down, reduced to parking spaces.
Ay! Oh! Where'd you go Ohio?
I went back to Ohio, but my family was gone. I stood on the back porch, there
was nobody home. I was stunned and amazed. My childhood memories, saw this world past, like the wind through the trees."

Pretenders
"My City Was Gone"

The sustainability crowd dubbed Cleveland the "Green City on a Blue Lake" several years ago. With the speed I see grass and weeds fill the empty lots, which have been replacing buildings in this town, Cleveland is rapidly earning the "green" description in that eco-hopeful moniker.

What will the city look like 7-10 years from now?

Will green space eventually reclaim the old working class industrial neighborhoods, or will new development take the place of the blighted old buildings and the recently vacant property?

Will the regions' greatest asset, Lake Erie's fresh water, become even more valuable as climate change and global warming begin to spark new migration patterns away from the sun belt and back to the rust belt?

What I do know is this: The Cleveland my children, and eventually my grandchildren, will know is going to be be a very different city than the Cleveland my parents knew, or the city of my own childhood.

My Friend, Sidney Rackoff

2008-02-03T09:49:00.000-05:00

Can you see it? That sparkle of delight, springing from his heart, shining through his eyes, and spreading the warmth of genuine affection to ...me!

This is a picture of my dear friend, Rabbi Sidney Rackoff, taken when we met for coffee one morning a few weeks ago, at Phoenix on Lee Road in Cleveland Heights. It had been over a year since I had seen him, so we had much catching up to do.

I wrote about Sid several years ago (Click here to read the post), and wanted to write about him again, now that I have redesigned my blog and can share photo images with you. I have heard they are worth a thousand words, which saves me a whole lot of time pecking at this keyboard.

The renowned sculptor, Fred Schmidt, introduced me to Sid when I first began teaching at Max Hayes High School. Fred had invited my art students, who were also studying welding, to visit his Cleveland studio were he fabricated his monumental works of stainless steel. The kids were so excited and inspired by his sculpture, that Fred took me aside and said.

"You need to give my friend, Sid Rackoff, a call. He uses recycled scrap metal in his work, and I'm sure he would be happy to talk with your students. His technique is more affordable for the kids who would like to create art using their welding skills."

He handed me a phone number on a slip of paper.

I met with Sid and his wife at his home in Cleveland Heights the following week. They graciously showed me some of the artwork they kept in the house and, pulling an album off of a shelf, looked through photographs as we talked about the early years of his sculpting career, which he began at the age of 60.

He readily agreed to come out to the school and talk with the kids, while his wife shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"There he goes again."

Turning to him she fussed, "Now remember you aren't as young as you used to be."

Back to me she continued, "I worry about his health. He takes on too many projects."

Sid just smiled and said "I'll see you Wednesday."

He came to the school the folowing week, with his leather jacket, mask,tools, and a crate full of scrap metal. I just wanted him to talk to the kids, he immediately put them to work.

That was seven years ago.

Sid is eighty nine now, and still making sculpture in his Willoughby studio.

These open arms bid welcome to all who enter Max Hayes High School. Sid's sculptures can also be found at several other schools as well as gracing the lawns and entrances of various businesses and civic institutions around North East Ohio. One of his sculptures is a part of the permanent collection at the Butler museum in Youngstown.

Sid never sells his art. Instead, he is happy to loan his sculptures to anyone who would like to display them for other people to enjoy. The sculptures in the photo below can be seen in front of the Recovery Resources building on Chester Avenue in Cleveland.

This last picture is a very large figure of a welder on display in Niles, Ohio.

It is my favorite of all Sid's pieces, since it was welding that brought him into my life and the lives of my students.

Over the few years we have known each other, he has been an inspiration to me as well as sympathetic listener and wise couselor. I feel quite blessed to be able to call him my friend.

Slide Show!

2008-01-27T07:14:00.000-05:00

And the changes keep on coming!

First I start including pictures in my blog, and now I've gone and changed the whole layout.
The coolest thing I've added is the slide show on the right. Clicking on it not only enlarges the pictures, but it takes you to my Picassa web album. I will try to keep it updated as I add new posts.

The current slide show contains the photographs of abandoned houses on Cleveland's east side which I referred to in last week's post. If you recall, I did mention I took HUNDREDS of photos. Over two hundred are displayed here.

If that seems a bit overwhelming, it's meant to be. Driving the streets of the neighborhoods and seeing the real thing is even more so.

Cleveland's Dying Neighborhoods

2008-01-23T01:02:00.000-05:00

Many of us who work in the city but live in the suburbs, find our way into the center of town each day along the well-traveled commuter routes. Most folks follow a freeway and avoid any close encounter with Cleveland's neighborhoods, the rest of us can drive downtown via one of the busy thoroughfares like Chester or Lorain Avenue, and curse the red-light cameras that interfere with our race with the minute hand toward our place of employment, or conversely back to the comfort of home and hearth.

Rarely will we venture off the main drag...Rumour has it, that could be dangerous.

As I make my daily trip from Cleveland Heights to Cleveland's near west side, part of my regular route to the Shoreway takes me through the east side neighborhoods of Cleveland along Eddy Road.

Lately, I have noticed more and more houses are being boarded up on the street, which is mostly residential. So this weekend I decided to take my camera on a little reconnaissance mission off my beaten path to see how the foreclosure crisis is affecting the Cleveland neighborhoods north of the Heights.

I drove around Glenville first, just a few blocks away from Case Western Reserve University, and was immediately struck by the number of commercial buildings that have been boarded. It appeared that far more storefronts are vacant than have businesses operating out of them.

The streets were very quiet Saturday morning as I traveled slowly up and down the blocks. The weather was bitter cold, so I stayed inside my car to take snap shots.

Several police cars raced past me, silently, while I sat curbside. I wondered what the hurry was at such an early hour. Driving around the corner to the next block, I found the answer to my question. About a dozen police cars surrounded a small boarded-up building. Officers, with guns drawn, scurried out of their vehicles. I paused mine a few moments to click the shutter a few times, then thought it prudent to move along.

What I saw as I drove up and down the side streets of Glenville and then South Collinwood, was truly heart rending. Some streets looked like ghost towns, filled with vacant houses. In only two hours my memory card was full. Nearly three hundred photographs of boarded-up houses.

Solid neighborhoods, busy with families decades ago, have been abandoned. Homes, once lovingly cared for, now scavenged by scrappers. The immensity of the problem has to be seen firsthand to be realized. And the experts say things will get worse before they get better.

How will my city ever recover?

This is a small sample of what I saw. Click on the photos above to enlarge the pictures.

Cleveland or Sarajevo? Which is Which?

2008-01-07T23:21:00.000-05:00

Several years ago a friend mentioned the similarity of certain Cleveland neighborhoods with the Bosnian city of Sarajevo following the war a decade ago. Recalling that conversation, this evening, I looked for images of Sarajevo online, and was surprised to read that the city today is mostly rebuilt, with only a few bombed out buildings remaining on the outskirts of town.

Six of the photos above were taken in Bosnia Herzegovina. The other ten photos are from Cleveland's east side, taken just yesterday. Click on the pictures to see them in greater detail. The similarities are so striking, it is hard to tell the difference. This is not the metropolis that city officials want to show the rest of the world; this is our city's dirty laundry. Sadly, factories, schools, stores, and residences continue to close and crumble. Abandoned and decaying buildings have become common to landscapes on both sides of the city. We have our own type of war zone here. Poverty, drugs, corruption, and crime, seem to have resulted in an even more drastic and long-lived exodus in Cleveland than bombs did in the Balkans.

Meet Rudy Newman

2008-01-03T12:29:00.000-05:00

A little smile flickered across his face when he noticed me as I stepped through the doorway and into busy dinning room.

"Hey Rudy! How are you?"

"Hello Ms. Matthews. I'm fine, thank you. " Rudy responded in his oh-so-polite and very precise manner, which I have come to know well over the past six years.

"My mother will be arriving at 12:15. Would you like to have a seat, and may I take your order for a beverage?"

"Where would you like me to sit Rudy?"

"Many people like this table here by the wall." Rudy motioned to a large six top near the back of the room.

"Oh, it will only be your mom and I for lunch. Perhaps you would like to save that table for a bigger group. Can we sit here?" I pointed to a small table in the center of the dinning room.

Rudy blinked once. "Of course. Here is a menu. Can I bring you a beverage?", he asked again.

"Just some water right now. Thanks Rudy." I couldn't stop grinning as Rudy headed over to the bar to fill my glass. I was so proud of him.

I got to know Rudy when my friend and colleague at Max Hayes High School, Nicole Sellman-Penny, asked if I would consider taking on a young man from her special needs class for students with multiple handicaps. He was autistic, she told me, but he liked to draw and she thought his work looked pretty good. I went to her classroom the next morning to meet Rudy, and took a look at some of the drawing he had done in his notebook. "Damn!" I thought to myself, "This kid has some skills."

Rudy was a little nervous about participating in a mainstream art class, and so Nicole and I decided to have a couple more of his MH classmates, who enjoyed art but had no special talent, attend the class with him.

In the art studio environment, Rudy thrived. He was, by far, the most motivated of all my students. After methodically completing the regular classroom projects, and taking on any extra credit work I offered the class, I would often notice him helping his MH classmates with their art work. In his junior year, he was commissioned to paint a sign for Malachi Mart in the Flats. It was just a simple sign - the name of the store, the lettering copied from a business flyer - although quite large. But most impressive was the patience and dedication he put into completing the job, remarkable for any teenager, let alone for a young person growing up with a severe disability.

Rudy graduated valedictorian in 2006. Although he was a special needs student, there was very little grumbling from the rest of his graduating class at Max Hayes, who were in the regular academic track. Everyone who knew Rudy also knew how hard he had to work, and everyone who really knew Rudy couldn't help but to love him.

Since graduation he has taken some classes at the Cleveland Institute of Art where his older sister, Melanie, is a student. Because the instructors at the college do not have much experience working with autistic people, Rudy is not fitting into the program at the Institute as well as his parents had hoped.

I suggested that, perhaps, he might like to come back to Max Hayes to work in the art studio a couple days a week, and I would be able to give him whatever guidance or instruction he needed. We checked with the principal, David Volosin, to see if there would be any problem with having Rudy come back to the school, and happily, he agreed to allow him to come in and work as an artist in residence.

I was having lunch that day with Rudy's mom, Delores Newman, for two reasons. First, because she is delightfully charming, funny, and smart, with that common sense type of wisdom borne of dealing with life's challenges. We were also there to talk about Rudy, and to see how things were going at his first real job, working as a server at Susie Porter's haven of hospitality and southern comfort food on Superior Avenue in Cleveland's Mid-Town neighborhood, the Town Fryer.

It is not at all surprising that Susie and Delores are friends. Upon first meeting, one gets the feeling from both of these gals of comfortable familiarity and genuine openness. Rudy has developed a quiet affection for Susie, and in his very formal manner, even asked permission to call her "aunt". I can't imagine a safer place for Rudy to try his own wings than under the loving, watchful eye of Susie Porter and her staff at the Town Fryer.

Rudy begins his residency at Max Hayes next week, and soon I will be posting some of his artwork online. Keep your eye on this blog for updates, and please stop by the Town Fryer for lunch and to say hello.

Click here to check out the Town Fryer page on My Space

What Will Become of Willson?

2007-12-31T08:26:00.000-05:00

Driving down East 55th Street the other day, a route I take rather often, I was struck by the appearance of Willson school. Closed in 2005 to be rebuilt in a different location, the abandoned building is rapidly falling into disrepair. For more than two years now, local vandals have had ample opportunity to take what was once a solid old building, a Cleveland landmark, and destroy it little by little.

How long will the school district let this go on? Is the building for sale? Are they waiting until it is so far gone that the only option is demolition? Does a developer in cahoots with officials already have their eye on the land, but want it at a blighted bargain price?

The longer it sits, the cheaper it gets.

What if, instead, the city made this a small business incubator? For the first two or three years the lease would be paid for by elbow work, then once the business had a chance to start making money, the city could start charging a nominal rent, increasing it gradually until the tenents were paying market rate. In just a few years time, the building would be in better shape, and the city would have a number of new businesses.

Cleveland has been very generous to the big real estate developers over the past few decades, doling out financial incentives and tax abatements for projects that have had marginal to, debatably, negative economic impact on the Cleveland residents. Perhaps if city leaders were as generous to the entrepreneur and the small businessman, Cleveland could become a hub for start-up companies, fresh ideas, real ingenuity, and ultimately, real jobs.

Ghosts of Christmas Past

2007-12-29T00:53:00.001-05:00

Many people are uncomfortable with cemeteries, and do their best to avoid them.

I am the other type of person. I find cemeteries fascinating. The sense of history and the connectedness I feel with those who have lived before me draws me to wander along the quiet lanes pausing to read the names and contemplate what stories lie buried beneath the headstones.

Today, just like many other days, I drove through Lakeview Cemetery on my way home from downtown; not as a short-cut mind you, rather I took the long, scenic route, past Wade Chapel and along the narrow trail that leads to the bottom of the dam, then back up the hill to President Garfield's tomb.

I expected the cemetery to be dismal and dreary on this cold, wet, winter afternoon. But instead, I was struck by sight of red ribbon and holiday greenery adorning grave after grave.

Each wreath, poinsettia, tiny Christmas tree, or plastic Santa, represented a relationship that continued to be cherished, even after death.

During the first few weeks of December, I listened to several of my younger colleagues complain about the dreaded, obligatory, family gatherings.

Demanding fathers, intrusive mothers, kooky aunts, and annoying siblings. The stress of interacting with all of these relatives in such close quarters was said to be the sole explanation for the popularity of eggnog.

I used to feel the same way, until the first Christmas without my mom. Suddenly there was a hole in our family. Christmas would never be the same again.

Dad still puts up a tree, and my brothers and sister and I still gather together for a holiday meal and exchange gifts. But even after twelve years, the memory of my mother's laughter, her goofy little songs and dances, and the thoughtful way she took the time to make sure everybody felt special, still makes my heart ache from missing her.

My trip through Lakeview Cemetery today put me in touch with the ghosts of my Christmas past, and gently reminded me to cherish my family and loved ones who are here celebrating the holidays today, no matter how frustrating they might be.

Make the most of the time you can spend together.
Make good memories, because one day the memories will be all you have left.

Christmas in Cleveland: West Side Style

2007-12-24T08:35:00.000-05:00

They can be spotted from blocks away, exploding with electric Christmas color, unfettered holiday spirit, and every brilliant bit of discount drugstore decor ever sold, illuminating the night these last few weeks of the year. Tiny city lots with hardly enough space for a bed of petunias in the summer, come December, sprout crops of candy canes and nutcracker soldiers, inflatable snowmen and giant snow globes. Every square foot that can be adorned is arrayed in festive glitz. The snobbishly aesthetic are horrified by the excess, but I am both amazed and intrigued.

Each year my best friend, Susan, and I dedicate one evening to our holiday light tour. Never interested in the placidly pretty, we steer away from the white mini-lights of the ever-so-tasteful suburbs and head into the city. For the most part, the west side of Cleveland tends to be more exuberant in their displays than the east side, although Slavic Village on the south side of town has a good number of folks who go all-out, layering their yards with decorations from several holidays. Who ever came up with that stupid concept of "less is more" ? I'm willing to bet they weren't from Cleveland.

We used to take our children with us, before they became teenagers and had cooler peers to hang out with, and now, occasionally, we will bring other people. But we often find it difficult to convince the less adventurous to veer off of Cleveland's main thoroughfares and into the neighborhoods at night. "You two are crazy" they say, as if that's something we haven't heard before. Last year we brought our friend, Plain Dealer columnist, Joanna Connors on our city lights tour, and she was so fascinated by this display on Pearl Road that she interviewed the homeowner later in the week for her column. The main point of curiosity (besides of course "Why?") being "Where do you store all this stuff?"

This side yard in the Detroit Shoreway neighborhood, although not an ostentatious light show, I found was especially charming. Already full of lawn ornaments, even the decorations were decorated. The Christmas season for many people is a time of celebration and hope. We decorate our homes in an effort to make the personal spaces around us reflect the spirit of love, kindness, generosity, and joy, inspired by the season. Our homes mirror our attitudes. Ironically, neither Susan nor I have Christmas lights in our yards.

Don't Want to Go Home for the Holidays

2007-12-21T21:32:00.000-05:00

The last few days before winter break are my most favorite days of the school year, and this year was no exception. Many of my students were finished with their unit projects, and the rest had just a little more work to do before they turned their pieces in to be graded.

Because we are a public school, I never have a Christmas project. Instead, just before the holidays, I pull the card stock, ribbon, jingle bells, paint, and lots of glitter, glue, and scissors out of the store room, and I let kids, who are finished with the last unit, create as many festive baubles, paper snowflakes, ornaments, and greeting cards as they wish ...or not.

It's a sparkly free for all. I also bring out my palette of face paint and decorate the cheeks and noses of the kids who flock to my classroom, that has somehow transformed itself into Santa's workshop. It's funny how many of these high schoolers who spend most their public lives trying to act tough, and wanting to be treated like adults, become like children again at Christmas time.

Of course the conversations always turn to Christmas plans.

"What are you doing for Christmas Ms. Matt? Are you going any place?"

"No. But my kids will all be home on Christmas day, and the rest of my family will get together and celebrate later in the week. I've been invite to a lot of parties this year too, so I'm really looking forward to the next couple of weeks. How about you guys? How will you be spending your holidays?"

A few kids chatter happily about Christmas dinners, some talk about church services, and about traveling to visit relatives. Then there are the kids who candidly share stories of family festivities that resemble a gathering of Jerry Springer's' most obnoxious guests. The class is regaled with tales of inebriated family feuds, trees catching fire from tossed cigarettes, shoplifted Christmas gifts, requisite celebratory gunfire, and the annual trips to the police station to pick up drunk and disorderly family members. The room rocks with laughter, and a few kids remark how relieved they feel to hear that other people have crazy families too.

Finally, there are always the few students who fall silent. One-on-one conversations with some of the kids reveal sad, lonely holidays. No tree, no gift, no party. Parents or close family members who are ill, addicted, imprisoned, absent, or have recently died. There is very little joy in the holiday season for these kids.

The last day of school before the two week vacation always ends with a fire bell. No activities or detentions are scheduled that day, and we have what is called a "fire drill dismissal". Before the last class period, the principals' voice comes over the loud speaker telling students to gather their coats and belongings, as they will not be admitted back into the school after the fire drill. You see, it's hard to get some of these kids out of the building on the last day of school.

It is so very, very, sad to discover the number of kids who don't want to go home for the holidays. It reminds me not only how fortunate I am, but also how important we are as teachers in the lives of these young people. For some of these kids we are the only ones in their lives who care.

Cleveland Graffiti: Off the Wall - Part 1

2007-12-06T17:30:00.000-05:00

I met Jon Carlo Vega a couple of years before he was scheduled into my art class. Students had been asking,

"Do you know JC, that Puerto Rican kid who can really draw?"

"No, I haven't met him yet. Tell him to come up and introduce himself."

Our first meeting went badly. I don't recall who brought him up to my room, most likely it was Po-Po. I do recall he brought some artwork for me to admire, and I made the unforgivable mistake of suggesting something he could do to improve his composition. I immediately regretted my faux pas. He glared at me and walked away, giving me the cold shoulder when I saw him in the hallway for the remainder of the school year.

Like all students at Max Hayes, he eventually had to take a fine arts credit to graduate, and being the only art teacher in the building he was assigned to my class. Having learned from our first encounter, I was always very careful when critiquing his art. His work was consistently superior to most of his classmates, and he seemed to thrive on praise, which I was always happy to bestow. After a month or two of cautious observation, he let down his shield of self-defense, and we became friends. JC was especially good at portraits, and having a strong streak of entrepreneurism, he kept himself in pocket money by commissioning portrait drawings. He found that celebrity portraits were very popular, and had a steady stream of customers for images of rap stars and Hollywood icons. The graffiti I always heard about, or looked at the drafts for the pieces in his sketch book, but I never saw the finished work unless he brought me a photograph. To this day I've not seen any of his graffiti in person.

I rarely ever give out my phone number to my students because I don't particularly enjoy being pranked. I've broken my rule only a few times, and JC was one of the kids I gave my phone number to once when I needed to get in touch with him regarding an art exhibit.
He has been pranking me ever since.
...I kinda like it

JC is currently working to complete his bachelors degree at Kent State University, and when I told him I would be writing this series of posts, he sent me pictures of some of the paintings he has been working on lately. The graffiti influence still dominates his art work, and it is interesting to see how he has begun to form his messages around political themes.

Jon Carlo Vega is an emerging young artist with lots of talent, energy, an opinion, and a head for business. He's one to watch.

And remember I told you so

Cleveland's Secret Gallery: Part 6 - Learning on the Wall

2007-12-06T02:48:00.000-05:00

From the time I began teaching high school in Cleveland in 1988, students would talk to me me about painting graffiti. I would listen to stories of their escapades; roaming the train tracks, climbing walls, and running from security guards. Occasionally I would hear about an arrest. Having grown up in the ex-urbs of greater Cleveland, I was intrigued with this renegade art culture of the inner-city.

I first learned about the wall on West 26th about eight or nine years ago when I was transferred to Max Hayes High School on Cleveland's near west side. My students would show me their sketch books; prized journals, filled with designs for what they called "throw-ups". They would practice the elaborate lettering and characters, working on developing a piece for the wall.

Jon Carlo Vega and Misriam Calderon graduated from Max Hayes in 2004. Best of friends, they were creative, top-notch students with excellent drawing skills. Called JC and Po-Po for short, these two honed their painting technique on West 26th and Swift, often competing with each other for the title of "Best".

So often, people like to lump all graffiti into the catagory of vandalism, or at best, art crime. These kids were never taggers, running around defacing property. In Cleveland they had a place to express themselves without having to cross that line.

Even now that they've gone on to college, they stay in touch with an occasional visit, phone call, or text message. JC sent me these pictures of some of his work on West 26th a couple years ago, and also some shots of a recent collaboration he worked on with Po-Po.

We have some amazing talent growing up here in Cleveland. Too bad our civic leaders would rather invest tax dollars in the convention business than in our kids.

Cleveland's Secret Gallery: Part 4 - How to find it.

2007-12-04T06:02:00.000-05:00

I won't keep you guessing any longer. You will find the Free Wall at West 26th and Swift. Go ahead and Map It.

You get to Swift off of West 25th Street, but you have to look carefully or you will miss it. The road is south of Lorain Avenue, look for it on the right, immediately after you drive over this bridge. The road is in very bad shape, as it hasn't been maintained for a long time. If you don't see Swift, you can also turn right on the next side street - Queen , which also gets you to W.26th. Turn right on W.26th and if cars aren't blocking the street, drive to the end.

You may be able to catch a glimpse of the Free Wall from West 25th if you watch the west side of the street and pay attention. It also goes by other names in the neighborhood. I've also heard it referred to as "Fun Wall", "the Plaza", and simply "26th".

Have fun.

Cleveland's Secret Gallery: Part 3

2007-12-03T19:56:00.000-05:00

Urban blight and graffiti; the term evokes the image.
Somehow, the graffiti in this place seems different. It feels like it belongs here.

This graffiti reminds me of weeds, or more specifically, dandelions. Considered intruders in an obsessive suburbanite's green patch of perfection. Lawnlords wage never ending battles to keep them at bay. Instead of dandelions, this city lot spawned graffiti, and like the weed, it spread, organically transforming the blight of an industrial wasteland to a visual feast.

An urban gallery with no curator.

There are no rules here. Images of one artist invade, or completely cover, the work of another. Sometimes the message or the picture will be visible for months, or it may only be seen for a few days. Never intended to be a legacy, this is ephemeral art, lasting only until the next painter claims the space.

"The"
In speech and writing, this is a word is so easily overlooked as to seem insignificant. Yet, it's inclusion can modify an ordinary noun to make it an object of prime importance. Here on the Free Wall, this three letter particle of speech is elevated from supporting cast to star.

Beginning at the gap where a door swung many years ago, the sprayed line moves off the wall and along the remains of the concrete slab which once was a floor, tracing a new path. A maze going no place.

Cleveland's Secret Gallery: Part 2

2007-12-02T09:19:00.000-05:00

In all directions, on every flat expanse…graffiti. Vibrant crimson, brilliant yellow, chrome, black, tangerine, and teal - color, escaping from the confines of the ruined factory has spread to the bricks and concrete of adjacent properties. Retaining walls, bridges, dark brick buildings; blackened by a century of industrial residue are now vividly adorned in a chaotic Krylon rainbow.

Although I could see more painting beyond these pillars, I reined in my curiosity in favor of safety. That type of exploration is best done with a companion.

Art, defined and stripped to it’s most basic essence, is visual communication.
In this lonely place, spray paint becomes the voice of Cleveland’s forgotten young people. What are they saying?
Most are simply stating, “I was here!”
Others messages are funny, some are dark, a few are sad, and occasionally they are spiritual.

To be continued...