First Class: Coalition for the Homeless (Raw Notes)
First Class- 07 Feb 05 ~19:00hrs
There is a dissection at Division Street: the glamour and glitz of downtown was completely eclipsed when I took a right on Central Boulevard. The scene switched from cute girls clicking the pavement with their two-hundred dollar heels, to a transient citizen feeding a couple of junkyard dogs that were guarding a used car lot. I wondered to myself, why would a homeless person give away what little food he had to a dog? The answer came to me in a burst of revelations, though probably untrue, they still helped to put my mind back at ease.
Among Abraham H. Maslow’s (1908-1970) Hierarchy of Needs Pyramid, we see that physiological needs are at the base of the pyramid; needs such as subsistence procurement, sleeping, procreating, defecating, etc.. It seems that a vacuum develops from the lacking of the second-tier in the hierarchy—Safety Needs—like shelter, protection, and personal security. To compensate for the lacking of protection and shelter it seems, at least in the case I observed (as anecdotal as it is), that humans will fill that void however they can. In this case the individual was recompensing by supplementing the third-tier in the second-tier’s stead: social needs such as love and development of a sense of belonging. Perhaps the innate desires of caring and being cared for are just as powerful as the need to eat. Perhaps the pepper-bearded man with a tattered battle dress uniform (BDU) had been screwed-over by society so many times that he felt more comfortable befriending a dog, rather than a human; perhaps he trusted animals more than he trusted people. Here I can relate with the man, you come to know what to expect from an animal; with humans you never know what to expect. If you are around a bear, don’t mess with her cubs; if you are around an alligator, don’t wrestle with him; if you are around a lion, don’t stick your head in the beast’s mouth if you have any sense about you. With humans you just never know, an excellent case in point of this happened as I was jotting this down in my field notebook. I was walking down the street alone, at night, rounding the corner from Central Boulevard and Terry Avenue, I nodded and greeted a gentleman as I passed him around the corner with, “How you doin’?” The man didn’t seem to like what I said because he stopped in his tracks. And what he said and did next defied logic; the expected response was a nod, or gesture in kind, but here’s what he said to my well-wishing, “If you say that sh*t to my face I’ll kill you n*gga! I swear on my mother’s grave, I will kill yo ass n*gga! Come back here and say that sh*t to my face n*gga!” I picked up my pace back to my bike so that I could park a little closer to the center’s classroom, I had been walking around looking for the entrance for the past twenty-minutes—thus I arrived late, but physically intact.
The room was hot and stuffy, and I was mistakenly identified as a professor for my obvious absent-mindedness and stumbling about the room as I tried to find a place to sit. I finally found my seat just in time for introductions. One student said that he had a bachelor’s degree in architecture, and he then stated that he was now working on a second bachelor’s degree in computer science. The introductions that spun around the room were peppered from all walks of life. The most provocative introduction came from a student asking the following question, “Why would you all come down here and teach us?” Several students nodded in agreement, but this seemed to strike a nerve in the professor, Prof. David Sutton. He said that unlike Dr. Scolaro, who was a scholar, he surfed too much in high school, and the only school he could get in to was a community college. But after receiving his graduate degree, he found that the only place he wanted to teach at was a community college because it was at community college where he had his first positive experience with education. He became enthusiastic as he explained, “ . . . that it was the mission of the community college to serve the community; NOT to sit up on some pedestal up on high, living in the dream world of their books and their high ideas, but working hands-on in the community.” Solidarity returned to Prof. Sutton’s voice as he continued, “That is why we are here, to assist the community.” He would later prove this in his method of classroom engagement: clarification, reiteration, validation.
Prof. Sutton introduced the first textbook for the course, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, by: Richard Bach. He explained to the class that there are multiple layers to any given piece of literature. The example Prof. Sutton provided was Richard Bach’s book, the literal meaning is about a bird that doesn’t go with the flow, conflicting with his parents and society so much that he is eventually ostracized; forced to live our his life on his own. The challenge the professor put forth was for the class to find the deeper, symbolic meanings of the literature.
A salient point struck me suddenly while listening to the lecture, an observation about education on the whole: it doesn’t really matter who the teacher or the students are, what matters is the passing of knowledge. There are brief seconds during the passing of knowledge where you can almost see new connections being made in the students’ and the professors’ heads. This axiom has held true throughout the ages: the best way to learn is to teach. At this moment in time, no one in this classroom cares about what is outside that front door—right now—it is all about the learning in here.
What he wants the class to see inside of the text is that sometimes you have to be different from the rest, sometimes you have to be different to make things change for the better. Prof. Sutton mentioned Dr. Martin Luther King’s letter that is largely quoted and proclaimed today, without acknowledging the origin of the letter. That letter was written as a point of debate with his fellow clergy. They wanted him to stop rocking the boat with all of his demonstrations and non-violent protests—they professed that he was making life harder on everyone else by doing so. Now sit and think for a moment what the world would be like right now if Dr. King decided to sit down and join the drones . . . .
I had minimal contact with this population in the past, hit-and-miss volunteer work through the different organizations I have been a part of through the years, but I had never really engaged this crowd. I was introduced as one of the class’s options for tutoring in writing, I believe that it will be here that I will have the opportunity to befriend the class, and try to teach them basic writing and editing. Editing, you ask? Yes, editing because if you hand someone a fish, they will eat for that day, but if we make the effort to teach them how to fish . . . .
Note to self, contact Dr. Bill Millard and seek authorization to present his Unique program to the class one night; his presentation would build on Bach’s book in affirming the importance of being a unique individual.
There is a dissection at Division Street: the glamour and glitz of downtown was completely eclipsed when I took a right on Central Boulevard. The scene switched from cute girls clicking the pavement with their two-hundred dollar heels, to a transient citizen feeding a couple of junkyard dogs that were guarding a used car lot. I wondered to myself, why would a homeless person give away what little food he had to a dog? The answer came to me in a burst of revelations, though probably untrue, they still helped to put my mind back at ease.
Among Abraham H. Maslow’s (1908-1970) Hierarchy of Needs Pyramid, we see that physiological needs are at the base of the pyramid; needs such as subsistence procurement, sleeping, procreating, defecating, etc.. It seems that a vacuum develops from the lacking of the second-tier in the hierarchy—Safety Needs—like shelter, protection, and personal security. To compensate for the lacking of protection and shelter it seems, at least in the case I observed (as anecdotal as it is), that humans will fill that void however they can. In this case the individual was recompensing by supplementing the third-tier in the second-tier’s stead: social needs such as love and development of a sense of belonging. Perhaps the innate desires of caring and being cared for are just as powerful as the need to eat. Perhaps the pepper-bearded man with a tattered battle dress uniform (BDU) had been screwed-over by society so many times that he felt more comfortable befriending a dog, rather than a human; perhaps he trusted animals more than he trusted people. Here I can relate with the man, you come to know what to expect from an animal; with humans you never know what to expect. If you are around a bear, don’t mess with her cubs; if you are around an alligator, don’t wrestle with him; if you are around a lion, don’t stick your head in the beast’s mouth if you have any sense about you. With humans you just never know, an excellent case in point of this happened as I was jotting this down in my field notebook. I was walking down the street alone, at night, rounding the corner from Central Boulevard and Terry Avenue, I nodded and greeted a gentleman as I passed him around the corner with, “How you doin’?” The man didn’t seem to like what I said because he stopped in his tracks. And what he said and did next defied logic; the expected response was a nod, or gesture in kind, but here’s what he said to my well-wishing, “If you say that sh*t to my face I’ll kill you n*gga! I swear on my mother’s grave, I will kill yo ass n*gga! Come back here and say that sh*t to my face n*gga!” I picked up my pace back to my bike so that I could park a little closer to the center’s classroom, I had been walking around looking for the entrance for the past twenty-minutes—thus I arrived late, but physically intact.
The room was hot and stuffy, and I was mistakenly identified as a professor for my obvious absent-mindedness and stumbling about the room as I tried to find a place to sit. I finally found my seat just in time for introductions. One student said that he had a bachelor’s degree in architecture, and he then stated that he was now working on a second bachelor’s degree in computer science. The introductions that spun around the room were peppered from all walks of life. The most provocative introduction came from a student asking the following question, “Why would you all come down here and teach us?” Several students nodded in agreement, but this seemed to strike a nerve in the professor, Prof. David Sutton. He said that unlike Dr. Scolaro, who was a scholar, he surfed too much in high school, and the only school he could get in to was a community college. But after receiving his graduate degree, he found that the only place he wanted to teach at was a community college because it was at community college where he had his first positive experience with education. He became enthusiastic as he explained, “ . . . that it was the mission of the community college to serve the community; NOT to sit up on some pedestal up on high, living in the dream world of their books and their high ideas, but working hands-on in the community.” Solidarity returned to Prof. Sutton’s voice as he continued, “That is why we are here, to assist the community.” He would later prove this in his method of classroom engagement: clarification, reiteration, validation.
Prof. Sutton introduced the first textbook for the course, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, by: Richard Bach. He explained to the class that there are multiple layers to any given piece of literature. The example Prof. Sutton provided was Richard Bach’s book, the literal meaning is about a bird that doesn’t go with the flow, conflicting with his parents and society so much that he is eventually ostracized; forced to live our his life on his own. The challenge the professor put forth was for the class to find the deeper, symbolic meanings of the literature.
A salient point struck me suddenly while listening to the lecture, an observation about education on the whole: it doesn’t really matter who the teacher or the students are, what matters is the passing of knowledge. There are brief seconds during the passing of knowledge where you can almost see new connections being made in the students’ and the professors’ heads. This axiom has held true throughout the ages: the best way to learn is to teach. At this moment in time, no one in this classroom cares about what is outside that front door—right now—it is all about the learning in here.
What he wants the class to see inside of the text is that sometimes you have to be different from the rest, sometimes you have to be different to make things change for the better. Prof. Sutton mentioned Dr. Martin Luther King’s letter that is largely quoted and proclaimed today, without acknowledging the origin of the letter. That letter was written as a point of debate with his fellow clergy. They wanted him to stop rocking the boat with all of his demonstrations and non-violent protests—they professed that he was making life harder on everyone else by doing so. Now sit and think for a moment what the world would be like right now if Dr. King decided to sit down and join the drones . . . .
I had minimal contact with this population in the past, hit-and-miss volunteer work through the different organizations I have been a part of through the years, but I had never really engaged this crowd. I was introduced as one of the class’s options for tutoring in writing, I believe that it will be here that I will have the opportunity to befriend the class, and try to teach them basic writing and editing. Editing, you ask? Yes, editing because if you hand someone a fish, they will eat for that day, but if we make the effort to teach them how to fish . . . .
Note to self, contact Dr. Bill Millard and seek authorization to present his Unique program to the class one night; his presentation would build on Bach’s book in affirming the importance of being a unique individual.
posted by TechNutz at 3:04 PM
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