Built for the Bold
Tag Archives: new york
Handel: Made in America
A pun.
A secret.
An exposure of the truth.
Terrance McKnight told the story of classical music through the eyes of a Black man in America. He told us about being handled in America. It was apropos and could only be told so eloquently through him.
Attending this show with my students and principal was something special. While I sat still, not wishing to miss a note, a thought fluttered across my mind about a book my students finished reading this week. In the prologue of Heart and Soul, Kadir Nelson writes that our precious stories of heritage are only told once. He urges the reader to listen attentively.
McKnight’s narration of growing up in Mississippi and venturing into music outside of the church and the Black community gave me the same message. Listen real good, he seemed to be saying, cause if you miss this beat, it won’t be played again.
My eyes quickly darted across my row of students. Some of them were sitting at the edge of their seats. I wondered what they were really looking for and if they were still excited to be there. The Voices of Harlem were humming, lining out the Word. I knew they knew nothing about that. Even McKnight defined it to help the audience understand. But they sat still with anticipation.
The one closest to me whispered questions they had during the show…
Why is she wearing all white?
Was the mob that killed his Grandfather the KKK?
Then answers were passed down.
Some parts I refused to whisper about. Be still and then you’ll figure it out.
I overheard my students talking about Margaret Bond’s arrangement of “I, Too“. I didn’t read ‘I, Too” in the class; however, I learned from their whispering that they were reading Langston Hughes outside the classroom.Â
I looked at them when McKnight spoke to the audience about “tuning it out” He urged them not to listen to voices of doubt that came from outside or within. My students were not moving but sitting as still as they could. When I caught one student’s eye, she smiled. I knew she understood.
Ms. Hurley, she whispered, will we get to meet him after the show? She asked.
I don’t know darling. But don’t talk during this part. This is a Negro spiritual. The choir was now singing The Drinking Gourd and I had never heard it. I only read the words in old books that were passed down to me. It didn’t sound like call and response as I imagine it would. Dr. Thomas’ arrangement made Merriweather glow in supreme delight.
At the end of the night, my students met Mr. McKnight who told them now it was his turn to visit their school.
Apple Picking
Jesus in the Center of it All
No Snowflake is Alike
I walked into Second Grade after they had art and some children were in a disarray because their snowflakes did not come out as perfect as their friends.
Everyone, put your snowflake on the floor in the center of the room, I said sternly over the constant arguing.
The children got up and placed their paper on the floor.
Stand right here. Don’t move.
Come, you too, put yours here.
I don’t have one.
Why?
I messed up and threw it away.
Well, stand here too. Everyone, come join this very cold circle of snowflakes.
What do you see?
Snowflakes.
What else?
White.
Continue second grade.
Shapes! Diamonds! Triangles!
Anything else? Because I see a lot here. I see winter. chimneys. hot cocoa. marshmallows…
Ohhh, yeah! Meeee too Ms. Hurley! I see presents and a Christmas Tree.
Aww, and what do you see?
I see family and a lot of snowball fights….
Yes. Second grade. So we all can look at these snowflakes and see differently. They all look different because that is how it really looks in real life- different. And that’s how you are made, different. If everyone snowflake looked the same and everyone looked the same would we be truly living? What matters the most is we are created in this way and we bring our differences to the snowflake pile and appreciate them. Those of you who didn’t make one, even you were able to bring yourself and enjoy the snow with us. Next time though, don’t throw it away. Love it because it looks and is different.
Ms. Brown
Precept of the Day
The precept of the day came from a preacher. My 10 students watched a small video about Charles Spurgeon.
Then they were asked to to explain what he may have meant when he said, “By Perseverance the Sail reached the ark.”
I wasn’t too sure how many of then knew about Noah and the ark. Their response ranged from ordinary to extra ordinary.
This precept, McKenzi wrote, means even if [the] snail [is] slow, he still can reach Noah’s scared chest. For example, she continued, the snail [tries] to catch a boat but he is [too] slow. He believed in himself and got on the boat.
Meanwhile, Carson tapped into his inner reverend. Although out of chronological order, He tried his best to paraphrase the story about Noah and the Ark. I think this quote means, he said, when God struck land with a flood for 40 days and 40 nights…Noah sent the dove and the dove came back…Noah finished building the ark..[He] put the animals in the ark…it started raining…the snail still made it.
Of Pigeons and People
Visit to the Bronx Museum
A week before the children went to the Bronx Museum. I spoke to them about a possible visit.
We started off by first talking about pastels. I didn’t teach them the entire summer and by the time I joined the program, they were already used to drawing classes via youtube videos. The day I came, they were about to watch a you-tuber explain how to draw with pastels.
I used that as my opportunity to teach them about art history. I taught them how to appreciate spaces that showed art and artist who used either pastels or paint.
Three days before the trip to the museum, I introduced Jamal Shabazz and told them it was his work they were going to see. They watched Legendary Photographer: Honor and Dignity, a clip on youtube of Sahabazz talking about his work and his career. I also made sure they knew that he was inspired by someone they knew, Gordon Parks (a founder of the school they attended). This bit of information made them excited.
On the day of the trip, there was a great stir about whether I should take three little boys who were full of energy. They had a rough time following directions all morning. I made the decision to allow them to attend the trip after remembering how excited they were when they learned about Shabazz and how vital it was for them to see images of people who looked like them in a museum. It was their first time ever visiting a museum!
All 17 children and 5 adults arrived at the museum. We met our educator outside.
We were early and the educator seemed disorganized.
We stood at the museum main reading panel. I always instruct the children to read each panel in museums instead of just walking and looking. However, the educator, dissuade them. She begin to ramble about how long it was and how we didn’t really have to read it… At one point it was like she was begging us not to read it.
During the reading, even the three busy ones listened. The educator cut everyone off after the first paragraph and then escorted the children upstairs to an art room.
She gave everyone a drawing board and spoke in depth about pencils. She had everyone try different types and then lined everyone up and told them to take one pencils and their pad. Next, we returned to the Jamal Shabazz show and she had the group sit down and draw a photograph.
She waited and they drew. Finally, everyone did a show and share. Well, really, no one showed. And no one shared. She asked who drew each picture and then spoke about the pictures. Not really allowing the children to speak about the work.
Around this time, the children began to lose patience.
Next, she told the children to go look at the rest of the exhibit… to Find a photograph and draw it. We were the only ones in the museum and I didn’t stress noise level. I also didn’t give the children any rules of how to behave (outside the talk they were given before we left the school). As I usual, they waited for the educator to give more clear directions.
She didn’t give them three minutes to follow that instruction. She changed her mind.
Actually, let’s look at some of his work together. The younger ones no longer paid attention and continued to view what they had started looking at. Here is a mini video:
She ushered the group into another gallery and we went back upstairs.
Upstairs she told them they were going to use water color. She took out huge water color sheets and asked me if I thought they could share. I told her I wouldn’t mind cutting the sheets in halves so each student could have their own.
The students painted and we returned to the school.
Thank You, Ms. Renee Watson
This public thank you letter is long overdo. Since this picture in 2019, I have seen Ms. Waston on many occasions and said thank you personally but putting it in writing has helped me shape the deepness behind my ‘thanks’.
Dear Ms. Watson,
This letter is about your involvement with the Langston Hughes’ house even though it was for a short period of time in which you (along with friends) made it into a community reading space.
It was in that short time, my interest in Langston Hughes sparked.
At the events, I met many writers such as the children’s book authors, Mr. and Mrs. Lesa Cline- Ransome, who wrote the book, Finding Langston and Mrs. Rita Williams-Garcia, the author behind the creation of the Gaither girls.
Meeting these authors and talking about their work in real time, was very pertinent to me as a teacher and writer. I did not know it then, but my school would soon be forced to relocate and my students would need as much of Langston Hughes and the Gaither girls as they could possibly have.
Last spring when the flowers were beginning to bud in front of the school building, the entire community was hit with terrible news- the school will be relocating. This shocked everyone. We were at our location for over 15 years. This news put everybody in another mode of survival (we were still coping with COVID-19). From the school’s administration to the children, plans had to be made and arrangements had to be set for the future.
As a teacher, one main thought of mine was, if the school remains open, whom can I teach next year that will open up discussions about displacement, gentrification, and Black migration in the U.S?
Because I had been involved in conversations about those very topics at the Langston Hughes House, it was easy for me to think of Hughes’ childhood and migration. I could think of no better person than this writer and renaissance man to teach and open up these tough discussions.
When putting together a syllabus for the school year, Langston Hughes’ children literature was sought after. Finding Langston by Lesa Celine-Ransom which deals with many relevant themes such as death, migration, poverty, Blackness, country living vs. city living and survival, wasn’t hard and it was the first book on their list. Gone Crazy in Alabama, was the last.
The children started Finding Langston at the same time the moving men started to pack the classrooms.
They read about Langston moving from Alabama and imagined they were in Langston’s shoes….The moving men were outside the classroom doors toting things away and they were in the classroom sitting on the floor with their legs crossed imaging they were on grass under the hot Alabama sun. Langston became us and we became him.
Learning about Langston Hughes and remembering the past conversations gave me a solace.
The students begin to bottle up their emotions and tried to process what was really going on. Their school building along with their friends and the comfort of common community was all being taken away.
Knowing the tough time they were experiencing, I drew from facts of Langston Hughes life and Black Life in general. For the rest of the year, we looked at Jim Crow laws, Brown Vs. Board of Education, Thurgood Marshall’s Life, Jacob Lawrence’s Migration Series, and at the end of the year ended with the Black Panther Party and the 10 point system.
Langston Hughes was a child of the Great Migration. Our parents (my parents at least) were apart of the same migration.
But my students and even myself are apart of another type of migration, gentrification. It seems to be the same story, and the same folks.
Thank You Ms. Watson for providing me the tools to have these conversations.
Ms. Hurley
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