Accessibility for Whom?

            I will start this blog by stating that I am privileged. I am white, educated, middle class and sound of mind and body. I am privileged in a society that rewards the color of my skin, the status of my economic state and the physical and mental acuity of my body and mind. I recognize that. I have recognized that privilege and intellectually understood the benefits it has offered for a while now. Yesterday was the first time I emotionally understood some of the obstacles and hostility faced by those who are not blessed with my privilege.

I took thirty high school students from Central New Jersey into New York to see The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. Let me start by saying, the show is brilliant. Moving and electric, it offers a glimpse through the lens of what it must be like to be a person on the autism spectrum navigating our world – with its confusing kaleidoscope of sounds, sights and ever shifting rules. It also starkly highlights how intolerant and impatient we are of those who we perceive to be outside the “norm”. Watching Christopher try to navigate a society who doesn’t understand him or have the patience to try is devastating.

            However, what happened with the staff at the Barrymore Theatre was in some ways, more devastating. One of my young people is in a wheelchair. When we ordered our group tickets (at a group discount rate of $79 a ticket – expensive for the young people in my community), I made multiple phone calls to Telecharge and to the Barrymore to insure there was wheelchair accessible seating. There is, in fact, wheelchair seating in the orchestra section. $79 seats provides seating in the Rear Mezzanine, two floors up. There is no elevator in the Barrymore. I called and made sure my student had a wheelchair accessible seat so she could come to the show as well. I was assured that there was a wheelchair accessible seat she could transfer to, and a seat for her aide, at no additional cost.

            Great, right? We got to the Barrymore, to discover all seats were in the Rear Mezzanine. This is when things got ugly. I went to the box office to sort it out, while the students went to lunch with the chaperones. I pointed out that the “wheelchair accessible” seat was in the Rear Mezzanine. The Box Office staff asked could my student transfer from her chair to the theatre seat. I said yes. They said okay. I asked, “How does she get to her chair? It’s on the third floor!” They said, well if she needs to sit in her wheelchair, you should have asked for a wheelchair accessible seat.  I said, “I did”. They asked, “can she transfer from her chair to the seat?” I said, “Yes” They said, “she’s fine then” and once again, I asked, becoming more frustrated, “How does she GET to the third floor?” This went round and round until the box office personal YELLED at me, “This isn’t our fault! If YOU wanted wheelchair seats, you should have called and asked for them. Now we have to take a seat OUT and allow for a wheelchair in the auditorium.” Big dramatic sighs... "we'll have to call Telecharge" (sigh) "Wait over there" (sigh). It was clear that having a student in a wheelchair was a burden to the Barrymore Theatre staff and they were going to make sure we understood how difficult we were making their lives.

            Despite the fact I had requested wheelchair accessible seating, it was an attitude that the staff was granting me a “favor” I found embarrassing, humiliating and disconcerting. I found myself apologizing for “inconveniencing” them – when in fact, I shouldn’t apologize for anything.

            This was a moment of emotional epiphany for me. I have always been intellectually aware of the obstacles our society places for those who are not physically, emotionally or mentally considered “mainstream”. However, this was an emotional moment, when I felt so embarrassed to be asking for something that the theatre felt was a exceptional privilege. A special gifting to me by the powers that be. My request for a seat for a person who had paid to see the show, now was a huge event that required me to grovel and placate and utter platitudes in order to get the same basic service that any other patron would demand and receive. I watched person after person walk in and receive more courteous service than I had. I watched person after person walk in, ask for a seat in the middle, a seat on the aisle, a seat on the left or the right, up or down, more or less expensive. Never once were they yelled at, or made to feel like giving them a seat was an inconvenience or a special event.

             Why do we go so far out of our way to humiliate and inconvenience those who already face obstacles every single day? For my student, just navigating the sidewalks and hallways and buses is an obstacle – which she handles with grace and poise. Why then is it necessary to add humiliation to that?

              At the end, they did provide her with wheelchair accessible seating in the orchestra section and the box office person apologized for yelling at me. I accepted his apology but found myself emotional for days afterwards.

              For this to occur is outrageous. For this to occur at a Broadway show that encourages people to view the world through the lens of someone who doesn’t fit our societal “norms” is unacceptable. From the box office to the ushers; everyone we ran into that day – angry doormen when we unloaded our bus and took the extra five minutes for the ramp to go down; angry motorists when we crossed the street and the potholes were so bad, she got stuck and it took two of us to get the chair out; to the box office clerk (who thankfully my student never met) - made it clear that despite all our language about accessibility and opportunity, the American society is punishing to those who aren’t physically, mentally or emotionally mainstream. 

How To Create A Community In Which Students Feel A Part

We are about three months until the end of the year. I have been meeting with the freshmen class once a month to discuss Bullying and how we, as a community, can work together to make the school safer, stronger, more cohesive. It has been challenging. There have been times when I have been feeling that the task is bigger than I am. That it isn't a matter of educating the students but rather overcoming the school's attitude - the adults, the administration, the parents, the overwhelming apathy in face of problems that seem insurmountable and unsolvable. There are days when I listen to the people I work with as they discuss the futility of creating change when there is no clear leadership - when the students are "disrespectful" - when nothing ever lasts long enough to have an impact. And I have a student who is being bullied while I do this work, and I watch in frustration and growing anger as her parent fights for her right to attend school safely and nothing seems to make the situation better. The bullies get suspended - they don't care. We organize a group of students to walk the victim to classes and offer protection in the halls and cafeteria - the bullies target her in classes and the teachers seem oblivious. We get the teachers on board and the bullies wait for her outside her house.

And yet, despite my frustration and my anger. My feelings of impotence. My days when I listen to colleagues as they vent about their lack of power and their feeling that it is useless to try and create change because change will never come. And then I have moments... moments when the students themselves (always the first to embrace change and willing to take leaps of faith) take my breath away. I went in for the March Bullying Awareness sessions (as the students have dubbed them). We had discussions about the ultimate fallout from bullying - bullycide. We talked about the Tyler Clemente case and the Dharun Ravi sentencing. And the students explored who Tyler's death impacted. And these young people, who in October questioned why we should "stick our noses where they don't belong," who asked me "were you raised to stick your nose into every one's business?" who claimed they would never "snitch," and that if it didn't impact them, it didn't concern them. These young people suddenly spontaneously began discussing bias and safety and how do we as a community, make it safe for everyone to be who they are and to have privacy no matter what. How do we change things? What message does it send to the gay community if they feel unsafe to be open about who they are? They argued passionately about posting videos that have the potential to embarrass others and how they would feel if someone was so impacted by their "joke" or "prank" that it shattered their life. They were engaged. They were passionate. They were a community.

When did this happen? I didn't even notice. Their teachers noticed. They have pulled me aside and thanked me for the dialogue; for the opportunity; for the growth they are seeing. And even though I still feel (on days) tired and the lone voice in the wilderness. I still feel anger and frustration for the victims who still are unsafe. I feel hope. I feel that if we continue the dialogue, the awareness building... we can build a community where bullying just isn't tolerated.

So to end this meandering... I'll add a diamond poem written by some of the freshmen about bullying and their feelings.  Poems created with nine words, utilizing what bullying means to them, how it looks, how it sounds, what safety means and then some sort of ending. Here are a few examples of their work:

Upset

Helpless            People

Laughing               Crying               Screaming

God                 Parents

Together

Disgusted


Pain                      Fear


Cries                   "Help"                        Laugh


Home                                 God


Overwhelmed

Frustrated


Pain                 Evil


Hell                            Tears                       Silence/Whispers


Acceptance                    Trust


Gone

Mad

Verbal               Physical


Cursing                        Shouting                      Yelling


Friends                Counseling


Relief

Am I "Living Behind The Mask?"

Applied theatre just finished their new device drama, "Living Behind the Mask," a look at the masks we put on... all day... just to get through the days.  We explored all the different persona's we wear during the course of our lives in order to be accepted, to be liked, to be promoted or appreciated.  And we explored what happens when those masks are ripped away, revealing what we feel is vulnerability.  The six month journey forced me to ponder my own masks.

There are days I ask myself, who am I?  I often look at other teachers and marvel at their ability to seem so calm, so centered, so grounded when often I feel that I am drowning in doubt.  I look at my students and wonder what impact I have on them.  Their ability to bounce back from rejection, to stand up, brush themselves off and keep going... it inspires me.  Their ability to forgive us, their teachers, for our mistakes, our bad days, our missteps, for all the things that haunt me late at night...  Is it youth?  Is it faith that as teachers, we are somehow held higher and therefore given more latitude than other adults?  My students' belief that all their teachers must like them, must have their best interests at heart, must do the right thing for them -- staggers me. 

First of all, I don't know about other teachers, but I often feel I do the wrong thing and then spend time correcting it.  I do my best, but it always needs work.  I can always be better.  I know so many teachers who are truly gifted, truly talented - and I try to emulate and learn from them.  On the flip side, every teacher must like their students?  I know teachers who don't like any students.  And I know some students who are difficult to like (at times.)  How do we live up to that standard? Their faith that we, somehow, will have their backs...  Where does it come from?  And do we justify it?

The mask I wear as a teacher tries to be empathetic, humorous, patient and firm.  And I know that I drop that mask almost every day.  And the human side of tired, impatient, a little "blah" comes roaring through, threatening to expose my vulnerabilities and true face to the teens who stare at me everyday.  And still, there are those days.  Those days that remind me that the mask I wear contains portions of the person I am.  I have days where I have become the mask and the best elements I try to project.  Those days keep me plugging along, trying to improve and somehow meld the mask of who I want to be as a teacher with the reality of who I am.

So, at the end of the six month journey of "Living Behind the Mask," I think I took as much of an emotional journey as my students. 

On a COMPLETELY, separate note, my book Changing The Way We Think, Using Arts to Inspire, Empower and Change Your School Community is now available on Amazon.  Feel free to leave comments if you read it.  I'd love to hear your thoughts!

School Year Resolutions

With the New Year rapidly approaching, I am readying myself to gear up to go back to work and back to the business of preparing our new Self-Esteem piece, teching our Shakespeare show, and continuing our year-long Year of Respect curriculum with the general student population.  I always ask the students in my class at the beginning of the school year to create "School Year Resolutions" - something they can do personally to make our school a better community.  In addition, I ask them to practice random acts of kindness - one per week - an act for someone they don't know in our school community.  Our theory being that if we all practice random acts of kindness, perhaps over time, kindness will spread.  We know negativity spreads - often quickly and virally - kindness just takes longer and grows slower. 

This year, I upped the ante.  I've been working with the 500+ freshmen students since the fall on anti-bullying and empathy curriculum.  I've been doing workshops with these young people, listening to their voices, their opinions and asking them to create scenarios and solutions to bullying they see and hear.  They have been wonderfully creative in this task.  They're starting to figure out that there is strength in numbers - that if more than one person stands up - they have a better chance of creating change.  They've figured out that humor is a wonderful distraction - and can be a safe alternative to confrontation.  They've learned that sometimes reaching out to the victim is an incredibly powerful step that has no risk to themselves - especially when they work in tandem.  One group split their efforts, several worked to distract the bullies while another group led the victim away to safety and support.  They are somewhat astonished with themselves.  They can't believe they came up with these ideas.  And although they are still not one hundred percent sold that this will work in real life, when we wrap up the workshops I often see lightbulbs in many eyes, as they contemplate their own power.  It is wonderful.

As part of the latest workshop, I challenged the freshmen to two resolutions - one to take the anti-bullying pledge with us.  And the other, a School Year Resolution - one act or daily decision they can do to make our high school a better place.  This vision the students could see -- if ALL of them tried one thing (just one) that the school would be better by all of us.

So, I enter 2012 tired but hopeful; pulled in too many directions but ready to go on; still behind on work but willing to continue the fight.  And my students -- well, they didn't even take the winter break off.  They've been emailing me and texting me additional information all week for our new Self-Esteem piece.  Gotta love the students.  They continue to be the reason I get up in the morning, ignore the media blitz telling me what horrible people teachers are, fight stubborn and scared administrators and enter 2012 with a sense of purpose and joy.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Real Education is Human... and Empowering... and Uplifting

So I'm joining in the voice of IDEA this week in celebrating the values of real education.  Those being that Real education is ... Human. ... Powerful.   ... Relevant and ... Transformative.  They are spending the week promoting blogs that help illuminate this message. 

Since I am a huge fan of using theatre to help students empathize and humanize the world around them, I thought I'd lend my voice to the process.  This year is a challenging one for me in many ways.  Our anti-bullying piece is getting more and more requests from other school districts.  The message contained in it resonates with young people and adults.  And yet, my own administration is somehow frightened of the power of the voices of the young people.  We say we want to hear what they have to say, and even when they speak within culturally acceptable standards, we are afraid.  Of what, I wonder...  Meanwhile, I move forward with the anti-bullying year long campaign here at the high school.  And the students' perceptions of what makes a bully, what makes a victim, how do we help (or is there any solution to this issue) continues to perplex me.  Even in my own classroom, where I struggle to keep the young people from treating each other and themselves poorly.  What messages are we as adults teaching them that their immediate response is to denigrate one another?

And then there is our self-esteem piece.  I have close to 500 surveys sitting on my desk these days.  I have to read them in small chunks.

"I feel like after I lose weight I'll be 100% confident all of the time."

"Sometimes when I look in the mirror all I see is disgust.  I see all my flaws immediately."

"How I feel depends on if I have my mask on or not.  (My make-up.)  I mean I love myself but I don't feel pretty.  I would change my body.  My self-esteem really took a hit when I went to a store and no clothes fit...  The perfect person?  Skinny.  A size 0 because that's what size the models are."

We use theatre to remind the young people that we are all human.  Flaws and all, we are all unique and special.  Theatre is especially forgiving to those students who struggle in other classes.  You don't have to be good in math or science or even in reading to do well in theatre.  There are ways to make it work.  If you are willing to try.  If you are willing to work with others and try to find ensemble moments.  If you are willing to take a risk...   Ah, there's the rub, right?  Taking a risk.  I constantly battle to create a safe environment for my students.  A place where they can fail and still get up and try it again.  We talk about my failures (and goodness knows I have had many) and my successes in my career.  But if I hadn't tried, I never would've succeeded or failed.  I just would've "been."  My students (I hope) feel safe to try crazy things onstage, knowing that they might fail ... but they just might be brilliant.  Unless they are willing to try, how can they know?

The fact that they have won theatre competitions empowers them.  They fact they wrote an award-winning, published play... empowers them.  The fact that their voice gets heard through their art - through theatre and music and dance and video... makes them feel like they have something to say.  And when they feel that someone is listening, they become more passionate, more involved, more committed to all aspects of the educational experience.  Too often we plop students down, gravestone style, in perfect little rows and talk at them.  In the dynamic classrooms I work to emulate, the students are moving, they are talking with the teacher and with each other, their ideas are up and presented everywhere for everyone to see.  They use technology to further their education.  Our literary club will soon have its own blog.  Our video students create, write and produce their own television show.  The theatre students write, direct and perform their own one act plays.  Their voices are being heard.  In our year of respect, the social studies students are putting together a plan of action for the school.  Their voices are being heard.

At the end of the day, that is what makes us human.  The need to connect.  The need to have our voices heard.  The need to listen and communicate and share with each other.  Real education MUST be human.