How to draw a heart: Teaching art to incarcerated youth Journal of Social Theory in Art Education Dennis Earl Fehr, Ed.D. |
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How
to draw a heart:
This
article traces the progress of a social theory-based university art education
program in which undergraduate majors teach art to incarcerated youth. It
addresses and goes beyond the editor’s question, “What imagery lies
‘outside’ art educators’ accepted sphere?” Not only is the imagery of
these populations out of sight, but so are the sites of incarceration themselves.
They exist not only outside the purview of the art education field, but
of nearly every sector of society except the police. Even their families are
often “out of sight.” The readable, conversational format is a political
choice.
I offer an alternative to the jargon-heavy, “objective” voice of
traditional scholarship. My target audience is not only university faculty, but
also students and classroom teachers who will read this article because they
want to rather than because it was assigned. Perhaps these conversations will
remove stereotypes in some readers’ minds or even pave the way for them to
become involved with incarcerated populations.
1.
Introduction
So why should these teachers expose themselves to much
larger concentrations of such students by becoming involved with incarcerated
populations? Because their attitude is an example of how a stereotype can 1)
hinder a teacher’s professional development, 2) inhibit the goal of educating
of all of our children, and 3) increase prejudice against a group that is
already viewed with disfavor (see Brooks & Thompson, 2005, for the prices
students pay when social justice is excluded from the classroom, and McDonald,
2005, for a description of the need to integrate social justice into teacher
education programs).
Because I did not realize while this experience was
occurring that it would become an article, I did not take exhaustive notes.
Hence I have reconstructed conversations from memory. I vividly recall each of
the eleven conversations, for reasons that should be clear to the reader. Glesne
(1999) states, “…qualitative methods are generally supported by the interpretivist
(also referred to as constructivist)
paradigm, which portrays a world in which reality is socially constructed,
complex, and ever changing.” She adds, “The open, emergent nature of
interpretivist approaches means a lack of standardization; there are no clear
criteria to package into neat research steps. The openness sets the stage for
discovery….” She quotes Eisner (1981): “To know a rose by its Latin name
and yet to miss its fragrance is to miss much of the rose’s meaning.” In
this paper I might miss the precise “Latin name” of this tale (the exact
words spoken in each conversation), but I capture the fragrance of the rewards
and disappointments my students and I experienced in an art outreach program for
juvenile offenders, including the conflict between a positive, social
theory-based approach and a negative, punishment-based approach. In this case
the conflict ended one outreach program but created another. Our experience
should be useful to others who contemplate doing similar projects.
“Good morning, am I talking to the director of the
Juvenile Justice Center, Mr. G_____?”
“Great. I’m an art professor at the university and
I’m wondering if you would be interested in meeting with me to see about
having my students, who are studying to be art teachers, come out to the JJC
once a week during this spring semester to teach art.”
Prolonged silence.
“We don’t get too many requests like that.”
“Really? I’d think the university’s colleges of
education and human sciences would be interested in working with your
population. Seems like it would benefit everyone involved.”
“I totally agree. I wish we heard more from the
university. We never hear anything.”
“Well, I would like to give my students this
experience. Our art education majors are like education majors
nationwide—mostly young women who seem rarely to have misbehaved in school.
Yet they can end up teaching kids who misbehave a lot. Thinking about this makes
them nervous. But they’re energetic and their hearts are in the right place.
They would offer a lot to your kids.”
“I like the sound of this. I can meet with you
tomorrow at 2:00.”
“See you then.”
“What if I told you that in this course you are going
to develop social theory-based art curricula for middle- and high school
students who are incarcerated? And that you will divide into pairs and go out to
the County Juvenile Justice Center each Monday to teach actual inmates who are
locked up for everything from marijuana possession to armed robbery?”
Uncomfortable silence.
“I would not like that at all.”
“Why?”
“Because obviously those kids are dangerous.”
“Are they different from the kids you would teach in an ordinary middle or
high school?”
“Some public school kids are as dangerous but some are not. In the Justice
Center they all are.”
“Let me write that on the board. ‘All the kids in the JJC are dangerous.’
A few days ago I met with Mr. G_____, the director, and he told me that most of
his inmates are in there for drug possession. You don’t have to answer this
out loud, but have you ever been in a situation where you could have been busted
for pot? I suspect that some of you have. Maybe last weekend. Are you
dangerous?”
“I see your point, but what about the ones who are in for armed robbery?”
“Good question. If you end up teaching middle or high school, is it possible
that you will teach some students who have committed armed robbery?”
“Possibly.”
“But there would be two differences: One, you wouldn’t know they did it.
Two, you would be the only adult in the classroom. At the JJC you will be with
your teaching partner and the classroom teacher, and several trustees will be
walking the halls.”
“Will
be?
This is a done deal? We have no voice in this?”
“Excellent
point. No, you have no voice in it and I’ll tell you why. If I offered this as
a choice, let’s say with the alternative of teaching in an ordinary high
school, who in here would pick the JJC? One out of 15. So 14 would not have this
experience. Yet, as you pointed out, you might end up teaching kids like these
who just didn’t get caught. Have you ever felt nervous about managing a
classroom by yourself? No course you ever take will give you more confidence
than this one. So I, at age 52, am imposing this challenge on you based on over
30 years of experience in art ed. That’s longer than you have been alive. My
experience enables me to see that you will end up glad I had you do this. I will
make a promise to you, one I realize you might not believe today: In May you
will look back with gratitude on your time spent at the JJC.”
“You’re right about one thing.
Some
of us don’t believe you.”
“Yes. My name is—”
“Are
all your students here?”
“Yes, ma’am, I—”
“I’m
going to give y’all the orientation. Follow me. First, Mr. Professor, you
might want to take off that tie. These are not nice people in here. One of them
could jump up and try to strangle you with it.”
“No one is going to strangle me. I’ll keep the tie on.”
“Fine, you just do that. Now¾here
are the rules. You report all inappropriate language or behavior to the
classroom teacher. These kids are in here for a reason. Give them an inch,
they’ll take a mile. No sharp tools are allowed. Count your supplies when you
hand them out and count them again when you take them back. If you don’t get
exactly the number you’re supposed to, tell the teacher. They’ll steal them
if they can. We can place the entire class in lockdown or we can search them to
get your supplies back. Any questions? All right, this is the hallway where the
classrooms are. This room is Mrs. S_____’s. She’s the one you’ll be
coordinating with.”
“Yes,
I talked with her Friday.”
“Good luck.”
“Thank you for that orientation. Excuse me, Mrs. S_____? I’m the art
professor you talked to on the phone.”
“Oh,
hello.
You’re not supposed to be here until Tuesday.”
“We
discussed doing this on Mondays.”
“Well—we’re not ready for you until Tuesday.”
Uncomfortable silence.
“My class doesn’t meet on Tuesdays. I would hate to send my students back
today and lose a week. See those heavy boxes of supplies they hauled from
campus? Would it be possible for us to teach today?”
“But that would mean you’d have the Oranges instead of the Blues.”
“What are Oranges and Blues?”
“Orange and blue are colors, art teacher. The inmates’ jumpsuits are either
orange or blue. The Blues have already been sentenced. They’re doing their
time. They get out sooner for good behavior so they’re easier to handle. The Oranges
haven’t been to court. They don’t know what’s going to happen so they’re
a bundle of nerves. Makes them harder to handle. So you get the Oranges if you
teach on Mondays.”
“How about if we teach on Wednesdays?”
“Same thing. Orange.”
“Then we’ll teach Orange. I’ve divided the students into teams as I
explained on the phone. You said you have seven classes right now, so I divided
them into six groups of two and one of thr—”
“Eight.”
“Eight what?”
“Groups. Eight.”
Prolonged silence.
“See, we get new enrollments each Monday. This week
enrollments are up. We created
an eighth class this morning.”
“Nobody told me about that.”
"Maybe
that's because we were expecting you tomorrow. The courts send us new kids, and some kids finish their time and are
released. And once in a while someone turns 18 and gets transferred to the
state prison.”
“I see. Give me a second.”
“Don’t misunderstand. We’re delighted you’re here.”
“Thanks. Mr. G_____ said this place doesn’t interact much with the
university. It shows. Okay, beloved students, this will sound nuts, but is
anyone on the team of three able to wing a lesson? Probably with nothing but
pencils and notebook paper. Maybe a drawing lesson?”
Uncomfortable silence.
“Okay, anybody on any of the
teams?”
Uncomfortable silence.
“Well . . . then I guess I’ll do it. I won’t be able to come around and
observe anyone.”
“I can do it. I’ve taught drawing lessons before.”
“Wow, do you ever get an A for the day. How do you other two feel about
that?”
”We’ll be fine.”
“Alright, then let’s run with it. Team One, you’re in here. Team Two,
you’re in the next room, and so on, up this side of the hall and back down
that side. I need a double espresso to calm my nerves.”
“Better than I thought it would be. First of all, the teacher actually had
newsprint. I’ve never been fond of newsprint but at that moment I thought I
was in paper heaven. I just passed it out and asked them what they wanted to
draw.”
“You had a room full of boys, about a dozen if I remember right.”
“Right. The first request was a Harley-Davidson eagle. As you might have
noticed from how I dress when I’m not at the JJC, my husband and I are bikers.
Teaching him the eagle was a piece of cake. I had to do it one line at a time
but it wasn’t a problem because all of them gathered in a circle and watched
the whole thing. That kid will love me forever. The next one wanted to know how
to draw a champagne glass with bubbles coming out, so we did that. By then they
were grabbing paper and pencils and following along on their own. Next I got
asked how to make curling ribbons. So we made swooping S-lines with short
verticals on the outside ends of the curves and then parallel S lines
underneath, you know how that goes. Someone else—this 11-year-old who’s in
because he stuck up the ice cream man with a loaded pistol—wanted the Superman
symbol. Then it was cartoon characters. One of them wanted to draw hearts in the
margins of his letters to his girlfriend, but he could never get the second half
to match the first half. So I showed him how to make the two sides match. They
loved that. They’re all going to write letters covered with hearts to their
girlfriends. Envelope and all. We never ran out of ideas and the 90 minutes flew
by. I can’t wait to go back.”
A moment of silence follows as the students, and even I, stare dumbfounded at
her.
“You not only get an A for the day; you are Art Teacher of the Year and you
haven’t even graduated.”
The class bursts into applause.
6.
A Wednesday assessment from Year 2
“Not so well. I did my lesson specifically on rethinking the ideal family. A
lot of these girls don’t have their biological mom and dad and 2.4 siblings
waiting for them at home—not
that we necessarily do either. Anyway, my goal was for them to realize that an
ideal family is one that is very loving regardless of its make-up. So I started
by asking them what makes an ideal family. They basically gave me the
Mom/Dad/Sissy/Bubba/Fido/picket fence model. Not a word about love being part of
the ideal family. And I’ll bet that some of these young women are mothers who
miss their babies. So we talked about how giving and receiving love whenever we
can is the important thing, not technical family-member titles. I thought the
discussion was going well the whole time. Next we looked at art that combines
realism and abstraction—specifically Jaune Quick-to-see Smith, Larry Rivers,
and Australian Aboriginals—to provide avenues for both the skilled and the
unskilled drawers, and then proceeded to make multimedia images of our versions
of the ideal family. I was hoping for interesting blends of realism and
abstraction that reflected their home situations, but I didn’t get them.
First, they were so timid that they avoided abstraction altogether (one said the
abstract art we looked at was ugly). But when they tried for realism, their
rendering skills were so weak that the parts they intended to be realistic were
abstract in an unintentionally cubistic way. I thought those drawings were interesting but they happened by accident. Some teacher I felt like. But
the worst part was that none drew her actual family. They reverted right back to
the picket fence model. I was disappointed. In fact I literally have lost sleep
over it.”
“Hm.
I’m not sure it was such a bad lesson. How many minutes did you teach?”
“The full 90 we were scheduled for.”
“How old were they, on average?”
“I’d say 14, 15.”
“So they had 15 years to learn the picket fence stereotype. It sounds like you
did a superb job, but one brilliant 90-minute lesson is not likely to dislodge
an idea with roots 15 years deep. That raises an important point: We need to
repeat and repeat the same themes, each time in a way that keeps students’
attention, in order to dislodge unhelpful attitudes. I’m pleased with the job
you did—you taught a lesson built on great social theory, and it involved
important discussion, well-chosen art viewing, and an appropriate studio
project. You embodied my approach to art ed.”
“It went great. You asked us to make internal assessments—assessments of the
jobs we did, and also institutional assessments—assessments about the climate
of the JJC. Here’s what happened—our lesson was on the different purposes
tattoos serve in different cultures around the world. I wanted them to step away
from the notion that tattoos are gang-related or just for coolness. We looked at
tattoos from six continents—some were religious, some were about social
status, some about marital status—and then had the students design their own
personal symbols. Because the JJC doesn’t allow references to tattoos, I had
asked you last week about whether I should teach this lesson. You said to go for
it, that once the teacher saw where I was taking it, everything would be fine.
Well, I began, and the teacher really started fidgeting. But I plowed ahead and
as you said, he calmed down. After a while he was smiling, and then he quit
grading papers and just listened. It was great. I thought to myself, I’ve made
a hit with this guy.
“While the students were designing their symbols, I noticed that one of them
was a fabulous drafter, clearly better than the rest. I mentioned this to the
teacher. ‘He’s bright enough,’ the teacher told me, ‘but he’s bad
news. He’s going to end up a lifer.’ I was saddened by this attitude. I was
glad you came in and complimented that kid on his work. I heard you tell him he
should consider an art career, so after you left I reinforced that with him. He
never said a word but was well behaved and on-task the whole time.”
“He never said a word to me either. On the topic of attitudes, I’ve
encountered the full spectrum in my years there. Once a teacher who looked like
she was right out of college told me, ‘These kids are the most disrespectful
brats I’ve ever met.’ I asked her if she thought anyone had ever respected
them. She shot me a look and said, “You earn
respect.” I thought, ‘I wish you had taken ART 4362.’ But on the other
hand I’ve had several visits with Mrs. S_____. She’s been there 24 years and
she’s really sincere when she says she’s glad we’re there. She cares a lot
about the kids and feels that most of them are good kids. She said that if
they’re given direction and encouragement, and if people just treat them
decently, almost all of them will stay out of serious trouble. But you said your
experience was both good and bad. What else happened?”
“Overall I was happy with my lesson, but I did have a problem with one
student. I remembered what you said about professional dress but hip-huggers are
the style now and I couldn’t find pants that aren’t low-waisted in time for
our Monday visit. The stores just don’t sell them right now. So I wore a top
that came down below my waist. But at one point I bent down to work with a
student and I heard a boy behind me say to his friend, ‘Look at her panties.
Mm-mm-mmm!’ So I thought,
‘Here’s one of those moments Dennis calls Stopping the Train—a moment when
something so important comes up that we stop the lesson to talk about it. I made
all the students put their pencils down and I told them in plain English exactly
what happened. I even mimicked the sound the kid made. I talked about how I feel
when I’m treated as a sex object. I told them that I’m getting a college
education and empowering myself to compete equally with men. And I told them
that remarks like that are never to happen again. They smirked at first, of
course, but I just kept talking from the heart and by the time I finished, no
one was smirking. That was definitely my favorite moment of the lesson.
“Then, in front of everyone, the teacher, who is an ex-marine and very
authoritarian, asked me to identify the boy who said it. I said, very politely,
that I’d rather not, that I think my point got through. But that embarrassed
him in front of the class. His face turned red and he wouldn’t look at me
after that, even when I said thanks and goodbye. I just felt that the student
would be severely punished, which would undo the good I had done.”
“I understand your shopping dilemma, but as you to know, your attire was
unprofessional. That complicates things. And we were told on the first day that
inappropriate language is to be reported to the teacher.”
“I did report it. I just didn’t say who said it.”
“I understand, but now we have a gray area that each side can interpret as it
wishes. Given the complications I still think you handled the situation
admirably. Our philosophy differs significantly from theirs, but so far we’ve
been able to work together for the good of the kids. If anything
comes of it, I’ll support you.”
“Speaking.”
“This is Merle W_____, the new director of the Juvenile Justice Center.”
“Oh, I heard that
Bob left. I'll miss him. And I look forward to meeting you.”
“Uh-huh. Listen. We have a problem. We appreciate your wanting to help the
inmates. But it isn’t working out.”
Stunned silence.
“What? We’ve received nothing but kudos from both students and staff for
years. Whatever the problem is, I’m sure we can work it out.”
“Maybe so. One of your students got crossways with one of our inmates who
made a sexist remark. We have a zero-tolerance policy for sexist remarks.”
“Good. So do we.”
“Uh-huh. Well, she refused to identify the student. That soft-touch approach
doesn’t work out here. These kinds of kids need tough discipline or it won’t
get through. She set an example and now the kids are making her out to be a
hero. If y’all want to come back we need to know which student made the remark
so we can follow due process.”
“What would due process be?”
“Twenty-four hour lock-down.”
“Mr. W_____, we do differ philosophically in some ways but we have always
worked around that. This program has been written about in the local paper,
color photo and all. Don’t you feel that we’re giving your students
something substantive enough to get past this one problem?”
“I just got here. I don’t know what you’ve been giving to who. I have
heard though that y’all have been teaching them to do tattoos, and that
abnormal families are normal and—oh, I have quite a list here. One time when
you taught a lesson with clay, a kid stole some of it and stuffed it into every
lock he could get at. And then you come right back and teach clay again. I’d
have thought a professor would know better, but that’s just me.
“Clay stuffed into the locks? If someone had told me, we could have stopped
doing clay.”
“Anyway, one of your teachers showed bad judgment and now things are out of
hand. Again, I appreciate your good intentions, but we need to know the
student’s name if we’re to continue your program.”
“I find it hard to believe that you will end our program over this.”
“Believe it.”
“Did you know that my student stopped the class and made them all put their
pencils down so they could listen to her explain that the remark was belittling
and that she would not stand for any more like it? She said that by the time she
finished talking, she had their undivided attention. A punishment at this point
would make matters worse.”
“There goes that soft touch again. Sounds like you’re saying no.”
“I support her decision but I’d like to resolve—”
“Then it looks like we’ll have to part ways. Goodbye, Mr. Fehr. Er, Dr.”
“Dr. Fehr, this is Mrs. S_____ out at the JJC.”
“Hello, Mrs. S_____. I just got done having a very surprising conversation
with your new director.”
“I know. He told us about his decision. Only one teacher agreed with him out
of all of us. We’re fit to be tied.
You and your students were one of the best things that ever happened out here. I
just want to say thank you for your wonderful program. The kids always looked
forward to Monday mornings. And I have a suggestion if you’re interested.”
“A way to keep coming to the JJC?”
“Not precisely, but close.”
“You have my attention.”
“You know that the official name for our program here is Project Intercept II?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that means there’s a Project Intercept I.
It’s a school for kids who have been kicked out of their regular schools. They
have to wear jumpsuits like our kids. The rules are extremely strict. One
mistake there can land them here. The main difference is that they go home at
night. The principal’s name is Mr. R_____. I have reason to believe that if
you call him, you’ll have a program.”
“Mrs. S_____, it sounds like you’ve been up to something.”
“You didn’t hear it from me.”
“Thank you!”
“You’re very welcome. Again, I’m sorry things ended the way they did. You
and your students did not deserve it.”
“I appreciate that. Take care.”
“You too.”
“Bye.”
“Yes.”
“I’m a professor on the art faculty at Texas Tech. For three years
I’ve been taking art education majors out to the Juvenile Justice Center to
teach art and life skills and ethics. We’ve had a great time and they seemed
to love us. Then this morning their new director called me and basically fired
us because a student of mine would not give the name of a student of hers who
made an inappropriate remark. Anyway, Mrs. S_____, one of the teachers there,
just called and suggested that you might be interested in picking up our
program.”
“I’m very familiar with your program since we work so closely with the JJC.
I don’t know how many times their faculty have bragged it up. Usually the
university acts like we’re invisible. When do you want to start?”
“When do I want to start? That was easy.”
“Yup. Come on over.”
“What about asking your faculty?”
“I already know they’ll go for it. Come over. Bring your students and
we’ll give y’all a tour. Then you and I will sit down and work out a
schedule.”
“I could come by this afternoon at two and bring the students over Monday at
nine.”
“I’m putting both appointments on my calendar.”
“Thanks. You’re going to like this.”
“I know. See you later.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Mr. R_____.”
“By the way, did you know the school district’s TV station is housed in our
building? I’ll bet they’d do a story on your program.”
“I’d love it if they would.”
“Got a minute? They’re right this way. I’ll introduce you.”
“Let’s go.”
“Bob D_____, this is the professor who’s in charge of the art program we
started with the university. I thought maybe you’d be interested in doing a
story.”
“Nice to meet you, Professor. I’ve been planning to talk with you about that
very thing. In fact, I’ve already mentioned it to a contact of mine at the
local NBC affiliate. He’s interested too. What do you say?”
“Let’s do it.”
“Good morning, I’m Skip C_____, and you’re watching Community Bulletin on
KNBC. Today’s story features an art program sponsored by the School of Art at
T_____ University. Once a week, university students who are preparing to be art
teachers come here to Project Intercept I, a school for kids who, well, need to
take a break from their regular school because they got into trouble. These art
students not only teach the kids about art, but they teach them about life,
including survival skills for getting jobs, and even the ethical behaviors that
tie humanity together. Right now I’m talking with Melissa M_____. Ms. M_____,
please tell us about what your class is doing.”
“We’re learning today about the possibilities out there for people with
alternate abilities. We’re studying the artist Chuck Close, who has been
confined to a wheel chair for several years. In spite of that he has continued
his enormously successful painting career. Using his painting style of tiny
spots of color, each member of the class is painting one section of the final
piece. When they’re done, we’ll assemble the piece into one big artwork.
This gives us an opportunity to learn not only about working with alternate
abilities, but also to learn the style of Mr. Close and that when we work with
others we can accomplish more than when we work alone.”
“Fantastic. See what I mean? Not only do the kids here learn a lot about art
specifically, but the art student teachers teach them other important things
too—things that change lives. I’m Skip C_____. Have a great day and tune in
tomorrow.”
“This course was particularly helpful in teaching us how to blend art with a
social issue. Teaching at the JJC was an experience I will never forget!”
“My teaching at the JJC was the best experience I’ve had at Tech.”
“Teaching at the JJC was my favorite experience so far. I hope there’s an
opening when I graduate.”
“The class is very beneficial to our major. It gave us the opportunity to
teach students otherwise forgotten by the school system. It helped us grow as
future educators and role models.”
“I enjoyed this class very much and I learned a lot. The JJC was a great
experience.”
“I loved the JJC. Great class! It helped my understanding of social theory
enormously. We learned a new way of teaching art in public schools. Lots of
enthusiasm in the class.”
“Project Intercept was awesome. Thanx!”
“This course was extremely important. I loved teaching at Project Intercept. I
think it was the most useful experience of all our courses. I learned so much
more from the students than I taught them.”
Negative comments have been few and they tend to address my pedagogy,
particularly my lack of organization (a problem that will never be fixed). In
fact the experience itself has yet to receive a negative comment.
I have learned some important things from this course: 1) My students’
confidence as classroom managers skyrockets, 2) The Otherness with which they
regarded incarcerated people disappears, 3) They become skilled at blending
social theory with art, 4) Their students are impressed by the fact that someone
cares enough about them to teach them interesting things, and 5) On a practical
note, telling prospective employers about their teaching experiences in this
course has brought some of my students immediate job offers.
Perhaps this article will prompt ideas for course development in the minds of
art education university faculty. I specifically included the sad ending to our
relationship with the JJC, which was caused by unresolvable philosophical differences.
However, this is not a reason to avoid creating field placements such as the
ones described here. These experiences prompt art ed majors to rethink harmful
preconceptions. May this article motivate some practicing teachers to review
their attitudes toward their ‘problem’ students. Such shifts of vision
move us closer toward understanding a group that misbehaves in part because it is out
of sight.
Eisner,
E. (1981). On the differences between scientific and artistc approaches to
qualitative research. Educational
Researcher, 10, 4, 9.
Glesne,
C. (1999). Becoming qualitative
researchers (2nd Ed.) New York: Longman, pp 6-7.
McDonald,
M. (2005). The integration of social justice in teacher education: Dimensions of
prospective teachers’ opportunities to learn. Journal
of Teacher Education, 56, 5, 418-435.
Venable,
B. (2005 July). At risk and in need: Reaching juvenile offenders through art. Art
Education, 58, 4, 48-53.