Painters from Malcolm X Academy when they were in 2nd grade

Today’s class at MXA was only the boys (the girls have running club one day a week) which gave me a good chance to talk with the boys about what it takes to work as a team. I explained to them that we only have one mural so we need one team; not a girl team and a boy team, but one team. I asked them for their ideas about how to make it work.

For the most part, they had great ideas. We talked about how to show each other respect, take turns and listen. We talked about how put downs are not helpful and agreed we would use ‘put ups’ instead. All in all, they came up with 10 really good rules (11 if you count “don’t fart in class.”) I am curious to see what the girls want to add.

I realize the mural project is not just for them, but a way for me to spend extra time with them before they move on to middle school and deeper into the new awareness that comes with that age. I’m lucky to have this concentrated time to say good-bye to my babies.

Painters from Malcolm X Academy when they were in 2nd grade

Last week, we broke out of our usual programming mode at Malcolm X Academy to start a community mural with the 5th graders. I love these kids. I’ve had the good fortune of working with them for the past 4 years. They were in 2nd grade when we first started painting together, and I care about them more that I thought possible.

The mural project is meant to mark the 5th graders’ transition from elementary school to middle school. I want the mural to be a place where they can show what is important to them, what legacy they are leaving behind, and what they would like to be remembered for. There are precious few rituals we have to mark the passage into adulthood and I wanted to acknowledge them in some meaningful way.

In my mind, these students were just taller versions of the babies the were 4 years ago, when they were open and soft and easily delighted by their creative discoveries. I was not prepared for what I got: a boisterous, gender-segregated mass of conflicting feelings and immature decisions driven by impending puberty. They were cranky and argumentative with each other and way more interested in antagonizing their classmates than working together on a mural.

Luckily, I have the classroom management skills to handle the situation. Sadly, though, I miss those open, innocent painters I used to know. I’m shocked that I didn’t see these inevitable changes coming. I guess I forgot about the hormones.

"Sunshine" in her heart. Painting by a kindergartner at MXA.

Today I’m thinking of A., a new student in the kindergarten class at Malcolm X Academy. Malcolm X Academy is in San Francisco’s Hunter’s Point neighborhood. For those of you who don’t know, this neighborhood is not in the best shape. If you pay attention to the news, you know that much of the gang and drug violence takes place in this section of our city. If you live in San Francisco, you may never have visited this section of town.

There’s no denying that poverty is rampant in this part of town and so many of the bad effects of racism and classicism exist there. But there is the undeniable – and less publicized ­ truth that the children who live in this neighborhood and attend Malcolm X Academy are beautiful, resilient, creative beings.

Now, as cute as they are, it took me a long time to agree to paint with kindergarten classes. I thought that they would be too little, too unfocused, too excitable for me to handle. This year, I decided to challenge myself a little bit and decided to take them on.

We had a great time with the kindergarteners at Malcolm X. We painted our dreams and we painted what kindness looks like. We painted things with wheels and things that fly. We painted things we like to do outside in nature and we painted loud things and quiet things and things that are big and small and dark and light. It was a blast. This brings me back to A.

One particular day, A. was painting hearts all over her paper – ­ she was literally painting her heart out. Using every color in her palette, she carefully painted a curve one way and then the other, creating sweet heart shapes. When it looked as if she was just about finished, I asked her whose hearts she was painting. “Mine,” she said, as she pointed to one of the red hearts at the bottom. Looking carefully at the outlines heart I asked her, “What’s inside your heart?” Without skipping a beat, she said in her little 5-year-old voice, “Sunshine!” and proceeded to paint a yellow sun in side the heart she claimed for herself. I melted. Not only is she the new kid in school, and not only is she new in a neighborhood known for its chaos but somehow in the middle of all that, she still knows her heart held the sunshine.

Painting by a young woman at juvenile hall.

I am anticipating going to juvenile hall this week for our second class of this 8-week series. We were supposed to have our second class last week, but the facility was on lockdown. I’m anxious to find out what happened and I hope it wasn’t anything involving the girls we are painting with.

Our first session with this group of young women really surprised me. Three of the five participants dove right in and painted with intensity and sincerity. Usually it takes a few sessions before they trust me enough to open up and engage emotionally. This time, they took the prompt, “think about a time you had a strong emotion,” and for the most part, they used the Brush Fire process to go deep in to their expression.

The two girls who did not immediately engage were more usual for a first painting session. We are asking something strange of them ­ how many of us have been encouraged to translate our thoughts and feelings to the visual metaphor? The weirdness of the task at hand on top of trust issues along with preconceived notions of what art is can result in some serious resistance. I look forward to seeing if there have been any shifts in their thinking as a result of our first meeting and I’m curious to see what risks they might take next.

The last time we did a workshop in juvenile hall, the girl who appeared the least interested in painting wound up really connecting to her creative process in the end. She went from looking blankly at her paints for the first three or four session to really expressing herself. Her pride in showing her work at the end-of-session art show was palpable. You just never know where they are going to end up!

Above is a picture of her final painting and what she had to say about it:

This painting says I am tired of being told what to do and how to do it. It shows all my feelings and all of it fading away except for the madness, sadness, and anxiousness is still there. The happiness, freedom, fun etc. are fading. It expresses the way I am feeling.