Over the last few weeks, we began drawing a mural that will span an entire building.  Students stay after school, recieving no money, no extra credit; just the satisfaction of excercising their creativity.  It's hard, at times, for me to step back and let them make mistakes.  I'm a recovering perfectionist. 

Last week, for the first time, students tagged the walls on the mural sketch.  Teachers warned me about this, often with a "these kids" statement.  I clung to hope so badly.  I wanted this mural to prove that "these kids" are actually pretty amazing.  They're not a bunch of street thugs and gangsters.  It became a sort of mini moral crusade. 

So when the wall was tagged up, the students gave up at first.  I shared with them the fact that many times when someone attempts to do something good, there is resistance.  I shared the story of Martin Luther King, of Gandhi and of Susan B. Anthony.  I told them about Nehemiah and his resistance (inadvertantly slipping in a religious reference).  They liked the idea of armed guards.  I realize that painting a mural is not the same thing and that no one is going to spray us with fire hoses, but the students got the point.  A small band of them stuck with it. 

I feel mixed about where I teach.  There are moments when it is so ghetto.  Students light fire crackers, tag on walls and light trash cans on fire.  In driving to work, I notice kids jay walking with complete disregard for the law.  At the same time, I love how students in this area share with each other and how faithful they are to friends.  I love the fact that students see this project as a gift rather than an obligation.  I guess that's why I feel so ambivalent toward Maryvale.  It's a place of hope and despair; beauty and ugliness; creativity and destruction. 

 

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