at this job so much more than the last two, i am getting a sense of how completely the students' lives are overshadowed by gang violence. every one of them has lost someone close to them. every week someone knows someone who is killed. already this year more people have died in Chicago than in our armed forces in Iraq and Afghanistan combined, and every one of them is known to some of our students - it's a small world they live in and all the violence is in that world. then this past week a police officer was killed, which is always a huge, huge deal in chicago - more so than other towns, chicago worships its police officers. the whole newspaper front page is always dedicated to the fallen hero (he's always a hero of course) and pics of the man and the funeral etc. are everywhere. so of course, on thursday, the police came to our school around 10 in the morning and arrested one of the students in connection with the murder. great. his life is over, whether he is set free or not - the police do not forgive in these cases and they'll torture him. :( i think of him just being his carefree self and now he'll be in some way erased. later that same Thursday i gave a major test and two of the students had a complete meltdown during the test - screaming and yelling, had to be removed from the test and have their scores invalidated. all the students get so completely agitated and wacky every time someone dies or - in this case - is arrested right out of school. a few weeks ago one of my students had a party where a guy was killed. the hostess of the party was blamed and she was receiving death threats. somehow she kept coming to school - extremely brave of her under the circumstances - but her work took a nosedive. she's a senior expecting to graduate but she is not going to at this rate. their lives are so disrupted, disturbed, distorted, dismembered by all this violence. when i showed some paintings from the 20's and 30's, one of the paintings depicted a large group of people enjoying a nightclub and another group at a barbecue - and several students independently wrote on their papers that these were great images of "a time when African-Americans could get together without fights breaking out." they are so sure it's because of their race and that it's inevitable - that "there will always be violence" as they say whenever i raise the idea of a solution to violence. it's incomprehensible to them that 90% of the world does not live in a situation like theirs - or that this is not because of some inevitable fact of birth. to them violence is such an all-pervasive and permanent fixture of their lives.
Showing posts with label musings on social class etc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label musings on social class etc. Show all posts
Saturday, May 22, 2010
here's what's on my mind today...
at this job so much more than the last two, i am getting a sense of how completely the students' lives are overshadowed by gang violence. every one of them has lost someone close to them. every week someone knows someone who is killed. already this year more people have died in Chicago than in our armed forces in Iraq and Afghanistan combined, and every one of them is known to some of our students - it's a small world they live in and all the violence is in that world. then this past week a police officer was killed, which is always a huge, huge deal in chicago - more so than other towns, chicago worships its police officers. the whole newspaper front page is always dedicated to the fallen hero (he's always a hero of course) and pics of the man and the funeral etc. are everywhere. so of course, on thursday, the police came to our school around 10 in the morning and arrested one of the students in connection with the murder. great. his life is over, whether he is set free or not - the police do not forgive in these cases and they'll torture him. :( i think of him just being his carefree self and now he'll be in some way erased. later that same Thursday i gave a major test and two of the students had a complete meltdown during the test - screaming and yelling, had to be removed from the test and have their scores invalidated. all the students get so completely agitated and wacky every time someone dies or - in this case - is arrested right out of school. a few weeks ago one of my students had a party where a guy was killed. the hostess of the party was blamed and she was receiving death threats. somehow she kept coming to school - extremely brave of her under the circumstances - but her work took a nosedive. she's a senior expecting to graduate but she is not going to at this rate. their lives are so disrupted, disturbed, distorted, dismembered by all this violence. when i showed some paintings from the 20's and 30's, one of the paintings depicted a large group of people enjoying a nightclub and another group at a barbecue - and several students independently wrote on their papers that these were great images of "a time when African-Americans could get together without fights breaking out." they are so sure it's because of their race and that it's inevitable - that "there will always be violence" as they say whenever i raise the idea of a solution to violence. it's incomprehensible to them that 90% of the world does not live in a situation like theirs - or that this is not because of some inevitable fact of birth. to them violence is such an all-pervasive and permanent fixture of their lives.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
chicago part 3: lah-di-dah, I'm off to play the grand pi-ah-no
So the whole reason for the trip was that Shamus had free tix to a concert series. I seem to be the only one around here who likes "classical" music, so I went.
It was at the beautiful Chicago Symphony Center, shown below in someone else's photo:
I wasn't allowed to take photos in the concert hall, but here is a view of the rotunda (at right) and two views from the window up by our nosebleed section seats (as usual, click the photos for a larger view).
That's the Art Institute across the street—click here for the largest version of the left picture, and maybe you'll be able to make out the White Sox cap on the lion out front.
We heard a program of Debussy, Kurtág, Ravel and Schumann played by Pierre-Laurent Aimard, described by the Chicago Tribune as "the thinking-man's virtuoso," whatever that means (details on the pianist and program can be found here ). He was definitely some kind of virtuoso—these were incredibly difficult pieces. I don't know the correct musical terms but there were a lot of notes all over the keyboard in very quick succession. I was impressed that he managed not only technical perfection but beautiful expression, if that's the right term.
It's been a really, really long time since I've been to hear classical music. Not since we moved here from New York, when I had tix to a spring series at the Brooklyn Academy of Music with my friend John.
It was interesting to be back in that atmosphere. As a kid I went with my parents—they got me a season ticket to the opera from the time I was eight (The Magic Flute was my first opera), and to the symphony starting just a few years later. (Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm getting to that.)
In high school and college I had friends who were accomplished musicians, so I also went to hear their concerts and events. In college I also sometimes managed to take advantage of the immense smorgasbord of musical offerings in Boston... (hey, Ame, remember going to the Handel & Haydn society stuff with what's-his-face? remember that damn red sweater I wore to every single friggin' thing? remember the Laura Ashley dress?) I also used to listen to classical quite a lot as background music around the house or whatever.
Then there were all those fun/silly traditions in college, such as the midnight concert in Adams House, where all these incredible musicians sight-read an old war horse (Dvorak's 9th was the one I went to hear). Every spring in the courtyard of Lowell House, a random assemblage of musicians played the 1812 Overture (probably sight-reading as well), with dramatic sound effects—the bells in the bell tower were rung and balloons filled with hydrogen were torched for the cannon shots.
And, hey, kids, remember Noam the brilliant musical prodigy (http://www.math.harvard.edu/~elkies/ !!) playing Handel's messiah on the piano for a sing-along in the LoHo Masters' Residence? (While waiting for people to assemble he would amuse himself by transposing it—on the fly—into any key the audience called out).
I have really mixed feelings about all that. Of course I know now that this is all about cultural capital, oppression, elitism, etc. I know that one sort of person goes just to feel superior to others, and many sorts of person feel out of place, intimidated, excluded etc. at such events.
But I really enjoy it. And on top of that, it just feels like home to me. There are so many layers of happy memories—getting all dressed up to go out with my parents, or seeing/hearing so many beloved friends performing.
I mean, I know that's all just life, and there's nothing I can do about it. I just...I don't want to whine about privilege and all that, but I do just wish I could enjoy those memories without having it be all contaminated with knowing what that means to the rest of the world—the things I experienced that other people couldn't get access to, things that qualify me in some people's eyes for some higher status that I don't believe in, but that "comes with the package" anyway. Things I know that supposedly make me smart, that are like keys that open doors. Even though that has nothing to do with "smart" and it shouldn't be that way.
The only thing I can do about it is keep doing what I'm doing—I see my teaching as a form of dedicated treason to my class.
I have to go pick up Loopy, so I'll have to finish that thought another time.
It was at the beautiful Chicago Symphony Center, shown below in someone else's photo:
I wasn't allowed to take photos in the concert hall, but here is a view of the rotunda (at right) and two views from the window up by our nosebleed section seats (as usual, click the photos for a larger view).
 |  |  |
That's the Art Institute across the street—click here for the largest version of the left picture, and maybe you'll be able to make out the White Sox cap on the lion out front.
We heard a program of Debussy, Kurtág, Ravel and Schumann played by Pierre-Laurent Aimard, described by the Chicago Tribune as "the thinking-man's virtuoso," whatever that means (details on the pianist and program can be found here ). He was definitely some kind of virtuoso—these were incredibly difficult pieces. I don't know the correct musical terms but there were a lot of notes all over the keyboard in very quick succession. I was impressed that he managed not only technical perfection but beautiful expression, if that's the right term.
It's been a really, really long time since I've been to hear classical music. Not since we moved here from New York, when I had tix to a spring series at the Brooklyn Academy of Music with my friend John.
It was interesting to be back in that atmosphere. As a kid I went with my parents—they got me a season ticket to the opera from the time I was eight (The Magic Flute was my first opera), and to the symphony starting just a few years later. (Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm getting to that.)
In high school and college I had friends who were accomplished musicians, so I also went to hear their concerts and events. In college I also sometimes managed to take advantage of the immense smorgasbord of musical offerings in Boston... (hey, Ame, remember going to the Handel & Haydn society stuff with what's-his-face? remember that damn red sweater I wore to every single friggin' thing? remember the Laura Ashley dress?) I also used to listen to classical quite a lot as background music around the house or whatever.
Then there were all those fun/silly traditions in college, such as the midnight concert in Adams House, where all these incredible musicians sight-read an old war horse (Dvorak's 9th was the one I went to hear). Every spring in the courtyard of Lowell House, a random assemblage of musicians played the 1812 Overture (probably sight-reading as well), with dramatic sound effects—the bells in the bell tower were rung and balloons filled with hydrogen were torched for the cannon shots. And, hey, kids, remember Noam the brilliant musical prodigy (http://www.math.harvard.edu/~elkies/ !!) playing Handel's messiah on the piano for a sing-along in the LoHo Masters' Residence? (While waiting for people to assemble he would amuse himself by transposing it—on the fly—into any key the audience called out).
I have really mixed feelings about all that. Of course I know now that this is all about cultural capital, oppression, elitism, etc. I know that one sort of person goes just to feel superior to others, and many sorts of person feel out of place, intimidated, excluded etc. at such events.
But I really enjoy it. And on top of that, it just feels like home to me. There are so many layers of happy memories—getting all dressed up to go out with my parents, or seeing/hearing so many beloved friends performing.
I mean, I know that's all just life, and there's nothing I can do about it. I just...I don't want to whine about privilege and all that, but I do just wish I could enjoy those memories without having it be all contaminated with knowing what that means to the rest of the world—the things I experienced that other people couldn't get access to, things that qualify me in some people's eyes for some higher status that I don't believe in, but that "comes with the package" anyway. Things I know that supposedly make me smart, that are like keys that open doors. Even though that has nothing to do with "smart" and it shouldn't be that way.
The only thing I can do about it is keep doing what I'm doing—I see my teaching as a form of dedicated treason to my class.
I have to go pick up Loopy, so I'll have to finish that thought another time.
Check out these music jokes. They're categorized by instrument—how wonderfully geeky is that?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
