that's how Ricky greeted me yesterday afternoon as he strolled into my classroom after fourth period. I can recognize his voice (and most of the other boys') from down the hallway. In comparison to the other boys, I really don't know too much about him for as often as I see him. I love the fact that he's always smiling or joking in some way or the other. He's just wonderfully jolly and incredibly smart. He finished his FAFSA last night and thought I should get him a present. hmmm....
I'm really writing now not because I love Ricky, but because he said something just after he greeted me that really shed light on how foreign this environment is to me: "Guess what I found today!?!" He had this sly look on his face, and as much as I didn't really want to know what he was about to show me, I felt quite intrigued. "Wanna see?!? Wanne see?!?" "Ok, Ricky, what have you got?" He reached into the right pocket of his standard uniform pants and proudly pulled out a ...... BULLET. "It's a 9mm Miss, look!" "What kind of ghetto school do we go to that I can pick a bullet up off the track?" As he stretched his arm out to hand it to me, I quickly realized how different his world is from the one I spent my shaky adolescent years in. Not only is he holding the first bullet I've ever seen, let alone held, he knows what kind it is. I inspected it curiously, but really had no desire to be holding it. Evidently it was still live, but I couldn't have really pointed that out immediately anyway. Just after I dropped it back into his hand, he held it to his chest...."Imagine what it'd be like to have that in you." I don't ever want to imagine that, but his response was "Pretty sweet, huh? I want to make a necklace out of it. How's that?" I'm still a little taken aback, and all I can really say is "not cool, Rickly, not cool." He responds with "cooler than yours," ironically defending his new idea by putting down my fleur-de-lis necklace, which I wear everyday and he's attempted to accurately draw many times. He even said he'd get a tattoo of it someday, since it'd be better than some letters or some "shit like that" (and for more irony, I've already got a fleur-de-lis tattoo).
A mini-argument between two of my seniors (both named Jose) also contributed to my growing feeling of being further disconnected and foreign to these kids' experiences. They were reminescing in their previous tagging names, throwing out the old ones they had defended and lost, the stupid ones that didn't make it long, and the proud ones they've maintained. When I evidently had a puzzled look on my face, they questioned my curiousity. When I said the context was completely foreign to me, they explained: "well, you just pick a name you like, then if someone else has it too, you have to fight or battle to keep it." One interjected that fighting is just much better because it doesn't take as long or cost as much money (battling, evidently, means you continue to tag various parts of the city until there is clearly one person who better represents the name in his work). It's hard for me to understand why they become so attached to a random name they've just made up; if the name itself has no particular significance, why do they try so hard to defend it as opposed to simply picking a new one? Here are the ones I hear/see the most: Slack (or Slak), Nano (or Nanoe), Nizmo (or Nizmoe), Neon, Rasko, Boots, Wampy, Trill, Naco, Goofy, Reecy. Sometimes they'll tag their real names (Jose, Toro, Elmer, Corey, Eduardo, etc), but for the most part, it's some random word they've claimed for themselves. I was looking at the Watts area on google maps (looking for the nearest bowling alley, actually) when one of the boys pointed out that there was a lot of tagging from Slack on one particular street. When I looked at him in disapproval, he said it was all really old, he just didn't know why it hadn't been covered yet. I believe him: his older sister and baby nephew were in a car accident last year and he prayed for them to be ok; he promised he'd never tag again if they made it.
The other part about Watts that is really starting to bother me is that everything is locked up. The community is in no way welcoming, and the children don't really know it could be any other way. There are tall fences (often with barbed wire) around everything - schools, churches, shopping plazas, restaurants, etc. All of the homes have fences around the front and back, the projects are fenced in with giant "no trespassing" signs, and fast-food restaurants are set up so human interaction is completely impossible. All of the windows have bars on them. It's like these kids are imprisoned 24/7. Their own community is screaming "we don't trust you" and "you're not safe" no matter where they look. Jordan is locked up before and after school, and even though we no longer have metal detectors at the doors, it is incredibly obvious that we don't trust the students in the buildings. When I was in high school, we could in essence go anywhere on campus at any time. Jordan students are not allowed into the buildings until 5 minutes before class begins, and they can't stay inside during lunch or nutrition breaks, which frequently complicates the situation when I'm trying to tutor.
A good friend from college came to visit this weekend and went to school with me Friday. I wanted to take her somewhere in Watts so she could better understand the community (which is something she's particularly interested in anyway). I brainstormed with some students where we could go, and after many discussions on the Watts Towers and other potential places (like the smoke shop, what?!?), one student said "Wow, I guess we don't really have anything in Watts." I think that statement was far more depressing than it sounded when it came out of his mouth.
I've decided that one similarity my students share with the higher-performing students of more suburban communities is that adolescents, no matter where they grow up, are quite sheltered in their own environment. While my life in no way exposed me to the violence and poverty my students experience (showing how sheltered I was), the children of Watts have no idea what's on the other side of those fences. They are confined to an environment where defeat weaves its way through all paths, and in a very twisted way, they also grow up quite sheltered.
I'm really writing now not because I love Ricky, but because he said something just after he greeted me that really shed light on how foreign this environment is to me: "Guess what I found today!?!" He had this sly look on his face, and as much as I didn't really want to know what he was about to show me, I felt quite intrigued. "Wanna see?!? Wanne see?!?" "Ok, Ricky, what have you got?" He reached into the right pocket of his standard uniform pants and proudly pulled out a ...... BULLET. "It's a 9mm Miss, look!" "What kind of ghetto school do we go to that I can pick a bullet up off the track?" As he stretched his arm out to hand it to me, I quickly realized how different his world is from the one I spent my shaky adolescent years in. Not only is he holding the first bullet I've ever seen, let alone held, he knows what kind it is. I inspected it curiously, but really had no desire to be holding it. Evidently it was still live, but I couldn't have really pointed that out immediately anyway. Just after I dropped it back into his hand, he held it to his chest...."Imagine what it'd be like to have that in you." I don't ever want to imagine that, but his response was "Pretty sweet, huh? I want to make a necklace out of it. How's that?" I'm still a little taken aback, and all I can really say is "not cool, Rickly, not cool." He responds with "cooler than yours," ironically defending his new idea by putting down my fleur-de-lis necklace, which I wear everyday and he's attempted to accurately draw many times. He even said he'd get a tattoo of it someday, since it'd be better than some letters or some "shit like that" (and for more irony, I've already got a fleur-de-lis tattoo).
A mini-argument between two of my seniors (both named Jose) also contributed to my growing feeling of being further disconnected and foreign to these kids' experiences. They were reminescing in their previous tagging names, throwing out the old ones they had defended and lost, the stupid ones that didn't make it long, and the proud ones they've maintained. When I evidently had a puzzled look on my face, they questioned my curiousity. When I said the context was completely foreign to me, they explained: "well, you just pick a name you like, then if someone else has it too, you have to fight or battle to keep it." One interjected that fighting is just much better because it doesn't take as long or cost as much money (battling, evidently, means you continue to tag various parts of the city until there is clearly one person who better represents the name in his work). It's hard for me to understand why they become so attached to a random name they've just made up; if the name itself has no particular significance, why do they try so hard to defend it as opposed to simply picking a new one? Here are the ones I hear/see the most: Slack (or Slak), Nano (or Nanoe), Nizmo (or Nizmoe), Neon, Rasko, Boots, Wampy, Trill, Naco, Goofy, Reecy. Sometimes they'll tag their real names (Jose, Toro, Elmer, Corey, Eduardo, etc), but for the most part, it's some random word they've claimed for themselves. I was looking at the Watts area on google maps (looking for the nearest bowling alley, actually) when one of the boys pointed out that there was a lot of tagging from Slack on one particular street. When I looked at him in disapproval, he said it was all really old, he just didn't know why it hadn't been covered yet. I believe him: his older sister and baby nephew were in a car accident last year and he prayed for them to be ok; he promised he'd never tag again if they made it.
The other part about Watts that is really starting to bother me is that everything is locked up. The community is in no way welcoming, and the children don't really know it could be any other way. There are tall fences (often with barbed wire) around everything - schools, churches, shopping plazas, restaurants, etc. All of the homes have fences around the front and back, the projects are fenced in with giant "no trespassing" signs, and fast-food restaurants are set up so human interaction is completely impossible. All of the windows have bars on them. It's like these kids are imprisoned 24/7. Their own community is screaming "we don't trust you" and "you're not safe" no matter where they look. Jordan is locked up before and after school, and even though we no longer have metal detectors at the doors, it is incredibly obvious that we don't trust the students in the buildings. When I was in high school, we could in essence go anywhere on campus at any time. Jordan students are not allowed into the buildings until 5 minutes before class begins, and they can't stay inside during lunch or nutrition breaks, which frequently complicates the situation when I'm trying to tutor.
A good friend from college came to visit this weekend and went to school with me Friday. I wanted to take her somewhere in Watts so she could better understand the community (which is something she's particularly interested in anyway). I brainstormed with some students where we could go, and after many discussions on the Watts Towers and other potential places (like the smoke shop, what?!?), one student said "Wow, I guess we don't really have anything in Watts." I think that statement was far more depressing than it sounded when it came out of his mouth.
I've decided that one similarity my students share with the higher-performing students of more suburban communities is that adolescents, no matter where they grow up, are quite sheltered in their own environment. While my life in no way exposed me to the violence and poverty my students experience (showing how sheltered I was), the children of Watts have no idea what's on the other side of those fences. They are confined to an environment where defeat weaves its way through all paths, and in a very twisted way, they also grow up quite sheltered.
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