. . . it hit the fan when I . . .

(This is an article I submitted to The Sandspur for the Opinions section.)

. . . it hit the fan when I . . .

Asked the homeless guy, “How you doin’?”

By: Issac P. Stolzenbach, Assist. Opinions Editor

Last Monday, for my Anthropology and Global Problem-Solving class, I had my first visit in a humanities course taught through Valencia Community College entitled, HUM 2390 Special Topics in the Humanities: The Prometheus Project; aiming at restoring the self-esteem of the homeless, underserved, and working poor; empowering them to take the helm of their own destiny.

In Dr. Rachel Newcomb’s anthropology class we were tasked with engaging in a service-learning project. I chose Valencia Community College’s The Prometheus Project, a non-profit organization that teaches the humanities (art, literature, philosophy, etc.) to transient, underserved, and the working-poor citizens of the Orlando area. According to Dr. Newcomb’s course curriculum, we are to utilize applied anthropology by engaging our service-learning project as participant-observers. As we are working, we are to develop an ethnography, and prepare recommendations on how anthropological principles might benefit the organization. The project I’m working with received the coveted Florida Humanities Council (FHC) grant last week, which runs from February 1 to January 31, 2006; the grant will be instrumental to the organization while it undergoes institutionalization. The real story lies in the question some have posed regarding the organization’s utility (myself and the students included): Why would we teach the humanities to the homeless; couldn’t those energies be better spent? Last Tuesday night I found out why the organization exists, and discovered that the energy generated exceeds the energy spent.

My first night on the bedraggled-side of downtown Orlando was the experience of a lifetime because I discovered that you learn a lot about yourself when you help others, which is a priceless education. What I've learned thus far from the Buddha holds true—you have to step-up to the challenge of surrendering your ego, stepping out from behind yourself, and truly engage the people you are trying to reach. During the course of working with others, you relive things from your own life that caused you to choose a particular project. I learned that I wanted to work with the project for a couple of reasons. One was because I had a feeling other people thought the same way I did, and the way I thought was wrong. When I actually looked at what my eyes were seeing, it made me sick to my stomach—there are people that fought for this country—veterans living in the streets! Yet another example of knowledge I sometimes wish I did not have access to. The other reason was much more personal.

What lies at the foundation of my desire to be involved with a project that teaches the humanities to the underserved is the fact that college was never considered an option for me when I was in high school, much like the majority of the people attending class in the Prometheus Project. I was considered immature and plainly stupid because I was not good at standardized tests; my guidance counselor, one Brad Martin, told my parents that I would be voted most likely to become part of a federal institution. So I went through life thinking I wasn't worthy of an education, until someone believed in me. The only difference between you, me, and the person living on the streets is that someone believes in us; somewhere along the way the man on the street lost that luxury--the Prometheus Project, with the assistance of the FHC grant, aims to bring that luxury back into these peoples' lives. Sometimes you can experience a cathartic moment from an external source. All it takes is someone believing in you, sometimes that is all it takes for us to break-free of our bonds, and take that courageous walk out of Plato's Cave.

But if one were bright, one would take the time to think about what setting he is about to immerse himself into when preparing for his fieldwork. A layman would show-up among the dark of night in one of the seedier parts of downtown Orlando, park their motorcycle, while jamming out to some tunes on their headphones, whip-out some chopsticks, conduct a drum solo, then eat their sushi-dinner right there on their bike. Little did the layman know that corner had probably seen more homicide reports than traffic tickets. After shaking off a wasabi-induced endorphin rush, I (yeah, it was me) jotted my observations down in my notepad and walked around trying to find the entrance to the Coalition for the Homeless where the class was being held. I tried to smile when passing people on the street; they however, did not feel so inclined to return the gesture. And when I was dumb enough to actually greet a passerby with, “How’s it goin’?” the fellow was so distraught with my comment, he swore on his mother’s grave that he, “. . .would kill me if I said that to his face.” Along with other obscenities I won't pollute your eyes or minds with here, but take note, he continued to yell at me, asking if I would say it to his face, which somehow elevated my ambulation. Makes you think twice about asking someone how it’s going, doesn’t it? That is, unless you have some sort of fetish for vehement vituperation. This experience really tweaked my perspective on how people interact with each other. Alles verrückt!

Perhaps the thing that struck me as most notable was the stark contrast between Church Street, and—two streets over—Central Boulevard (more specifically, the corner of Central Boulevard and Terry Avenue) where the scene went from brightly-lit faux gas lamps and ‘Beemers of Church Street, to what reminded me of East Berlin, Germany: everywhere it was gray, even the graffiti looked gray; posters parading events that the local residents and transients could not afford to see. The only purpose the posters serve is to mask the broken windows and doors. The breeze stung my septum, reeking of Black-n-Mild cigars, stale beer, and diabetic urine. Church Street looked as though the city groomed it weekly with pride, whereas Central looked as though the city was trying to forget it ever existed. The only music to be heard was the cacophony of sirens in the background, which were unnerving to some, omnipresent to others. Not a cigarette butt to be found on one; missing water meter covers (that could swallow your foot and break your leg) on the latter. Here you get down to the pith of life, Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs in action.

The synergistic environment, developed from the dialectic of question-answer, chance-validation, student-teacher, pulses with life in that classroom; you can feel the energy in the room, and all it takes to start the flow is a little bit of belief in your fellow man. This is what the Prometheus Project gives its students: validation, the thirst for knowledge, self-esteem. Once they achieve the fourth-tier on Maslow’s pyramid, self-actualization is a breath away. The most valuable lesson extracted from service-learning thus far is that we are all capable—that double-edged sword—of being human: to err and to achieve. The most important lesson we can all extract from this is to believe in each other, and then our potentials will be limitless.

For tutoring and/or volunteer opportunities, please contact the Prometheus Project Program Director, Dr. John Scolaro at www.valenciacc.edu/clemente. If you would like to learn more about my endeavors with the project, feel free to access and make comments on my blog at www.prometheusproject.blogspot.com.