The Art of Education

I volunteered for the Ellis island simulation at my youngest's elementary school yesterday. This simulation was for the 4th and 5th grade classes.

For a week they have been doing in-class simulations of a European immigrant's journey to the United States in the late 1800s - early 1900s. A small group of 5 students per class (15 total) were randomly selected to be 1st class, another 5 second class, and the rest were steerage passengers.

During the simulation the teachers were wonderfully solicitous of the 1st class passengers, helping them move their things, allowing them to talk as much as they wanted while everyone was moving in to place, etc. 2nd class passengers were allowed to whisper quietly among themselves if necessary and had to move their own things and got slightly less comfy chairs. The teachers gruffly told the steerage passengers to hurry up and sit on the floor with no talking at all. My youngest said, "all the steerage passengers hate us because of our privileges." Pretty real, but luckily the "hate" ended with the simulation.

Of course they spoke about this all beforehand so the students knew not to take it personally.

Well, after a week of dealing with fake illness and death, money and food shortages, etc., they "arrived" at "Ellis Island" yesterday to be processed. Their documents all had to be in order, then they had to pass a number of tests. If they didn't walk a straight line or jump rope they got a dot rather than a star. Or perhaps the "medical examiner" detected a rash or a cough--off to quarantine they went. They had to present letters of recommendation, be able to sign their names, have their spelling homework completed to show they would be good workers, etc.

Today they find out who got enough stars to enter America.

The kids have been learning that ships were required to take back rejected immigrants to their original ports, but not anyone else in their family. As a result, a sick child might be sent on the ship while the parent stayed in America because he or she could not afford the return fare, or vice versa. They also heard about the sometimes arbitrary nature of judgments pronounced on hopeful immigrants.

However, they didn't really feel it until yesterday.

This school, Washington Elementary in Kingsport, TN, also has run simulations of colonial settlers that involved students making a list of their 20 favorite people then finding out that those people might be "injured" or "sick" or might even "die" during the course of the simulation as they strove against time limits to "build" houses, "plant" crops, and "survive" the voyage and their first winter. My youngest lost an uncle and an adult friend.

The Underground Railroad simulation earlier this year involved groups with a leader physically trying to sneak by "bounty hunters" from safe house to safe house (some of which had been raided and were no longer safe) and, at the end, trying to run through the remaining hunters to reach "Canada." Only 7 children out of 65 made it, and they really felt the unfairness of it all.

This is education as art. These teachers literally bring history to life and help the children feel empathy for those who struggled in difficult situations.

And this is why standardized testing is not the answer to our education woes.

Standardized testing has led to our teachers being given less and less freedom to creatively engage their students. It has led to minute-by-minute structuring of the school day.

If we retain excellent teachers and retrain or let go indifferent or uninspired teachers, we bring up children who are engaged and curious and actively seek learning opportunities.

The current environment leads to spoon-fed students with little inclination or training for independent study. That loss of initiative and independence is detrimental to their future success, to their ability to innovate and advance when they are adults.

I'm just saying . . .

A lighthearted reminder . . .

. . . that the unexpected can be fabulously fun.

So do something unexpected today! I know I'm inspired!

Chaos in the Studio

My natural state seems to be somewhat organized chaos. The degree varies, but I think chaos is a necessary part of my creative process.

Yeah! That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

And then I'm cleaning up so I can find what I want to be creating.

Edward Tufte, aka ET

I heard a story on NPR this morning that both resonated with me and made me aspire to do and be more than I am. That doesn't happen all that often when I listen to the news, particularly both in the same story, so I thought I'd share.

The article you can read online is abridged from the audio version, which is certainly worth taking 9 min, 8 sec to listen to. NPR has images of some of his work, but you can see it all at his site. Enjoy!
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Edward Tufte is a professor emeritus of poli. sci. and statistics at Yale who is well-known for his work in presenting data clearly and graphically. He was recently recruited to the Obama administration's Recovery Accountability and Transparency Board, to advise and devise ways to track and present in an easily digestible but meaningful form how the $787 billion stimulus package is being spent.

Yawn. That's all well and good and I applaud him, but neither resonates with me nor inspires me to aspire to more.

But ET is also an artist. A large-scale sculptor to be more specific, who does, IMO, some very fine work. He has just opened a gallery, ET Modern, in NYC. But he doesn't necessarily want to sell his work.

So here's the resonating part. In the article he says:

"I have a very big problem selling pieces, because I don't want them to leave," he says. "For a long time, I believed that any successful piece was a tremendous luck-out, and that I'd never be able to do it again ... My fellow artist friends, who are serious with me, told me to grow up."

I tell myself to grow up all the time. He went on to say that it's not necessarily the entire piece that he clings to, but rather elements that he's not sure will come again. I so get that, and suspect many artists feel the same, even if they don't say it out loud.

He also talks about giving back, which I love. He's smart, positive, creative, particularly in fields (poli. sci. and statistics) that are not generally known for creativity in a positive way, and not stuck on how wonderful he is. That combination is appealing and certainly worth aspiring to.

Better food in our schools

As you might know, I have a couple of kids in public school. If you have kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews, friends, etc., in school--or if you attended public school, you know that the quality and healthfulness of school food leaves a lot to be desired.

Every once in a while I am shocked anew at a school lunch menu that includes fried chicken shapes, corn, rice, and a roll. If you're up on your nutrition at all, you know that this is carb upon carb upon carb. Pair that with the offerings of flavored milk and dessert and all I can do is shrug and throw up my hands in bewilderment.

The schools say they focus on teaching nutrition, yet seem to fall flat on their faces when it comes to practicing what they preach, due in part to strange and arcane guidelines they must follow from the government, which also is not practicing what it preaches (see the USDA's www.mypyramid.gov) when it comes to school nutrition.

I recently signed a petition to update food standards in our schools and invite you to do the same if any of the children you love attend public schools.

I also recommend the recent series Food Revolution--you can watch all the episodes online if you missed them the first time. Several years ago chef Jamie Oliver led the charge to overhaul the school lunch system in the U.K., to such an extent that a friend who lives there says she'd eat at her kids' school as if it were a restaurant, the food is so good. Can you imagine? The food is prepared from scratch, so rather than opening a can of sauce or fruit in heavy syrup, school cooks prepare sauce from scratch and students enjoy fresh fruit. And the food is sourced locally as much as possible.

Food Revolution recounts his recent initiative in Huntington, WV.

Other great resources include The Lunch Box (which includes recipes and menus for schools and action plans for parents, principals, etc.) and the Healthy Schools Campaign.

You know I rarely put political stuff on here (other than it's every citizen's responsibility to vote or shut up), so you know this is near and dear to my heart. Luckily my kids have recognized the lack of quality in the school lunches and frequently pack their own. However, regardless of whether they eat the school lunch, all the kids are getting the wrong message on nutrition from our schools.

Good Fun with Art/art

I read two wonderful posts on the history of Art/art by Sandra Wyman on her blog, The Dyer's Hand, yesterday:

Saturday, 30 January 2010

"There really is no such thing as Art"

and

Wednesday, 9 January 2008

A Brief History of Western Art

"In the beginning there were things that needed to be made and makers who made them. . . ."
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Enjoy!

Baby Blues

My mom introduced me to the cartoon strip "Baby Blues" either just before or just after I had my first, and I've felt their pain all these years . . . and been glad to know someone else feels mine . . . and been so grateful to be able to laugh at myself and the challenges that are monumentally daunting in the moment, and so yesterday once we've overcome them (like getting my first to sleep through the night).

After a particularly contentious weekend when we were all particularly contrary, my husband and I had the same nearly hysterical reaction to today's strip. (That'd be Jan 24, 2010.)

Why stop there, though. Baby Blues had an archive. Go there. Go directly to there and enjoy laughing at yourself. We are!

Amber Waves

Despite summer busyness I'm making progress on the first (and most labor intensive) part of my current work and (after realizing that my clever new method of binding small quilts absolutely does not work) have nearly finished rebinding the color study for my current commission. Hope to finish both this week.

Here are the amber waves of mown hay I've been working on:

But alas, that is as far as I'll get today unless I pull some late-night work time because the day is full of other summer busyness and fun. Why is it that summer lasted forever when I was a kid but flies by now?

The Speed of Life

I have frequently said that I chose the wrong medium for instant gratification. I said it when watching my friend Pascale weave a blanket in an hour and a half (not counting the dressing of the loom, of course). I said it when watching my mother whip out a painting during a watercolor class she was teaching. I said it when doing my own work in paint, and especially I said it after reading about an artist that does the hermit thing in a cabin every winter and emerges with 75-100 new paintings a couple of months later.

However, I love my medium.

So, after years of trying to make it work faster, I finally came to the conclusion that quilting, at least as I do it, is a sculptural medium and that I can compare it to the guy in the Berkshires who carves large wooden characters over the course of a few months, or the bronze artist who first makes the model, then the mold, then the bronze.

My medium requires a process. First I begin designing, which sometimes includes one or more studies, then I dye fabric and piece, nuno, wet felt, and/or applique, perhaps dyeing again if needed. Then I'm about a third of the way done, for the design and execution of the quilting scheme follow, as does the binding and mounting.

So if I can't crank out 25 meaningful works in a month that's O.K.

However, I could definitely learn to make design decisions a little faster--sometimes I'm a little too precious. So that's one of my resolutions for 2009: More quality work. More work = more opportunity.

Casting Light

As I stumbled through the house in the dark at 6 a.m. this morning it seemed a little brighter than usual. So I took a quick peek out the back window on my way by. And stopped. And looked again.

It was a little bright out, but the strange thing was that instead of shadows, the trees were casting light. Seriously.

My poor sleep befuddled brain searched for shadows and didn't see any.

Several seconds later I realized that the light was produced by the ambient predawn glow reflecting off the patches of snow left after a day of sun yesterday.

However, I still embrace the casting light image--it was beautiful, wonderful, weird and lovely.

And a great metaphor. So try to cast a little light today and I will, too.

Tuna Tower

I dragged my poor friend Lori to Whole Foods last weekend ostensibly to buy wine and peppers to prepare for a Memorial Day party, but really so I could take a picture of this before the display changed:


She surely thinks I'm a nut, but it just illustrates my growing sense that taking a little time and effort to make even mundane things colorful and interesting is worthwhile. Hey--it made me smile, which canned tuna fish does not generally do!