Ivan sat in bed, contemplating his options. A series of bad decisions had led him here. Apparently, Ivan realized, having big plans of getting work done on a Sunday night and actually getting work done on a Sunday night were two very different things. And now he had several options: stay up later and work on his device, stay up later and do work for his banking job, wake up early and do a combination of the two, or sleep now and sleep later and not get anything done. Ivan went with the last option, rationalizing to himself that he could get it all done the next day during work, as long as business was slow. And business was always slow.

Ivan worked at an independent bank. A real for-the-people operation. It prided itself on not giving out predatory loans and taking risks. The bank was not doing well. It has no name-recognition, and people would rather stuff their money right into fat cats’ pockets than trust a bank with no name-recognition. Who the hell had heard of a bank called Abernathy’s Treasure Chest? It was a clever name, a play on Thomas Abernathy, the famous 18th century English pirate who was rumored to have died trying to find a lost treasure chest. But who the hell had heard of Thomas Abernathy?

The next day, Ivan got no work done. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was that he couldn’t. Every time he faced his computer he wanted to throw up. Why was he wasting his time at a bank? I need to be working on my device, Ivan thought. With a sigh, he turned from his computer and pulled out the crossword puzzle he had been carrying around with him for the past few days. It was in that crossword puzzle that he saw it. He saw the answer to the “cute little side project” (as his coworkers liked to call it) that he had been working on for four years.

Ivan could not wait to get home. At work Greg Winters from accounting had ridiculed him for being excited about a science project. The 15 minute subway ride felt hours long. When he finally got to West 4th Street he shot out of the subway car and power walked to his apartment. 

“Hiya, Ivan! How’s it going?” said Aaron, his door man.

“Fine thanks.” 

“Another day another dollar, eh?”

“Right.”

“Hey listen, whaddya think of this new polish we’re using on the door? Look any shinier to you?”

“It’s glistening,” Ivan said and hurried past Aaron before he could ask any other questions.

He had done it. During a particularly dull day he had found the answer to a problem he had been working on for four years. He had spelled it out. Eight letters, going vertically down, starting with C.

Once inside his apartment Ivan sat at his desk and set to work. Chloride! All this time, how could he have not known. It was right in front of him. Chloride was the key. He got a beaker from the drawer and inserted in the tablespoon of chloride he had picked up from the lab after work. Ivan gingerly poured it into the opening in the device all too aware that if his hand was one millimeter too far to the left or if chloride was not the answer he would be set back years. 

Yes! It was working! He had done it. The name Ivan Kominsky would go down in history. His family in Romania would be proud to know they had not saved all their money to send him to New York for nothing. 

He picked up his device and placed it on his head, attaching the wires to his temples. He hummed and thought of the first person that came to his mind - his boss, Harold Marton. With any luck Ivan would soon be inside his boss’s dream.

White. It was all white. Every now and then there was a flash of dark blue, but maybe it from his eyelids when he blinked. White and hazy. 

“Eeeeeeeeee!”

Ivan turned, it was coming from his right. No, his left. No, it was circling around him. Coming closer. From the white haze emerged Mr. Marton, running, in a nightgown. “Eeeeeee!” The sound was coming from Mr. Marton. Ivan stared at his boss’s mouth, only it was closed. Mr. Marton stopped in front of him. The sound stopped. It seemed the screeching had been coming from his feet. A thought popped into Ivan’s head, were the feet and the mouth so different? Ivan’s head hurt. He spoke, “Mr. Marton, I am going to be late to work tomorrow, and you will not notice.” Ivan realized the words seemed to be streaming from his elbows. Or perhaps it was his belly button. Mr. Marton tilted his head back and opened his mouth. “Eeeee!” said his feet. 

Ivan woke up.

The next morning Ivan looked out the window of the subway car at the dark graffitied walls. How will Mr. Marton react to my lateness? If all had gone well last night he should have no problem with Ivan being late from now on. Ivan glanced at his watch. Five minutes. He was going to start with just being 5 minutes late. 

Ivan now stood, straddling the gap between the elevator and the eighth floor. His palms were sweaty and he was sure large unsightly pit stains were on their way. If this hadn’t worked, he could be in serious trouble. Mr. Marton did not play around when it came to punctuality. I should never have done this, Ivan thought. What would Bubbe and Zadye think if they learned I just threw my job away for yet another science project?

Ivan thought back to when he was a little boy, always doing science experiments. His father encouraged them, but his mother never wanted him to be spending his time running tests on bugs. His Bubbe and Zadye always said to their daughter, “Oy, Chava! That son of yours is a schlub!” And after his mother asked them to stop calling her by her childhood name (She was Hannah now) she made him stop so Bubbe and Zayde wouldn’t complain to her anymore. 

Only Ivan didn’t stop. When his family went to shul he would fake a stomachache and claim he couldn’t get out of bed. Once he was sure his family had left, he would leap out, get the treasure chest his Bubbe got him for his 4th birthday down from the back of the top shelf in his closet, open up his materials, and set to work. 

I should have just gone to shul with them, Ivan now thought. I should have never gotten into science. I just want to be a banker for the rest of my life. He squeezed his eyes, and counted to 3. I take it back. I take it back. I don’t want to go down in history.

“Ivan, are you alright?”

Ivan opened his eyes and realized he must have looked rather silly standing there. His boss was looking at him. 

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep very well last night,” Ivan mumbled. “I’m a little out of it.”

“That makes one of us!” said Mr. Marton, smiling. “I slept so deeply I woke up feeling excited to come to work! Imagine that! Now, I’m glad you’re on time because we have a lot to do today. Do you have those files I asked for?”

Ivan felt his insides flip over. 

Sitting at his desk Ivan thought the situation over. He used the breathing and counting exercises the flight attendant on the plane from Bucharest to New York had taught him so he would stop hyperventilating and disturbing the other passengers.

1..2..3… Inhale. I just invented a way to enter people’s dreams… 3...2...1… Exhale. I could use this...1...2…3…Inhale. I could take over the world.... 3...2...1… Exhale. No, I won’t do that, I’ll use it to help people...1..2..3... Inhale. I should get a patent on this as soon as possible….3..2..1.. Exhale. No, I can’t tell anyone….1..2..3… Inhale. I have power dictator’s could only dream of...3..2..1… Exhale.

Ivan decided it was best to play it safe, not let anyone know about his breakthrough. Turning on his computer he went to his email. Huh. That’s odd, Ivan thought. An email from an anonymous sender? With no sender, subject line, nor signature, it said: 

We know. 

Come to 881 West Stanley Ave. 13th floor. 

Tonight. Alone.  6 pm. Don’t be late. 

Ivan plugged “881 W. Stanley Ave” into Google. It was the headquarters of McOranges, the huge Fortune 500 fast food company. 

“Whatcha doin?” Ivan looked up to see Greg Winters from accounting hovering above his desk. Before Ivan could think of a response Greg had pushed him aside and was reading the email. 

“Whoa man,” said Greg. “You gotta go.”

“It’s probably some practical joke, I have better things to do tonight,” said Ivan, thinking maybe he should enter Greg’s dreams next and tell him to stay out of his business. 

“Whaddya think they mean by ‘we know.’ That’s a bit cryptic,” said Greg, scratching his leg with his foot.

Ivan wanted to take that foot and shove it somewhere. “The whole thing is cryptic,” he said trying not to roll his eyes. “It’s probably one of the guys from marketing.” 

“Sounds like an adventure to me, you’re gonna miss out! Anyway, what else is more important than a little adventure? It’s not like you got a girl to take out tonight or anything,” laughed Greg. 

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, right.” Greg poked Ivan’s side, laughed tauntingly, and walked away.

It was probably him, thought Ivan. 

Ivan took the bus home. He didn’t know what made him do it. Or rather he told himself he didn’t know what made him do it. He took the bus home because the bus route went past McOranges headquarters. I’m not going to do it. It would be stupid. It’s probably a practical joke. Ivan realized he had been mumbling this to himself when the woman in the pantsuit next to him gave him a dirty look and changed her seat. 

The note had said, “We know.” What could that mean? They couldn’t possibly know about his dream device, could they?

“West Stanley Avenue,” called out the bus driver. Ivan didn’t move a muscle. Then he did. He found himself pulling the cord for the stop, getting out, and walking up to 881. This is stupid, he thought. And yet, his feet still carried him to the front door and his hand opened it. Maybe it had been Greg’s comment about having a girl, maybe it had been that Ivan had been waiting for a moment like this since he had to hide his science experiments from his family, but something made him walk inside.

He took the elevator to the 13th floor and stepped out. Looking around he found himself to be in a fancy office waiting room. The walls were gray, except one which was all windows. It was filled with natural sunlight and there were plush chairs that looked more comfortable than some beds. A receptionist was sitting at a desk looking down. Ivan walked up to her. She had a fashionable blazer and straight shoulder length hair, a jet black color that couldn’t have been natural. Before he could say anything she looked up and said, “Follow me please.” Ivan was ready to leave right then and there, but this woman had a magnetic force, he found himself following her to a conference room. He walked in and she left. The door closed behind him.  

The room was similar to the waiting room, with comfortable looking chairs, only in this room three of the walls were entirely windows, giving a stunning view of the city. There were four men in business suits sitting at one end of the table. “Have a seat,” said the man second to the left with the bald spot on his head. What could he do? Ivan obeyed. The chairs were not as comfortable as they looked.

“Ivan Kominsky,” said the same man. He seemed to be in charge. “Let me introduce myself. I am Mr. Jobes, these are my associates. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kominsky.”

“A pleasure,” said Ivan.

Mr. Jobes grinned in a way that made him look like a lion about to kill a gazelle. “Let’s cut to the chase. We know about your dream device. Don’t worry about how, we are here to propose a deal. We want to bring you in on McOranges new advertising campaign.”

Ivan swallowed. “Why me?” He asked. Why not just buy it from me?”

“We all know that you built the device so only your DNA would activate it. We’d like to offer you a large commission for every 5 people, I mean customers, you tell about the potential of our fast food restaurants.”

Ivan understood what they meant. They wanted him to go into people’s dreams and tell them to buy McOranges food. 

“How much?” 

Mr. Jobes grinned again, wrote something on a slip of paper, and pushed it across the table to Ivan. Ivan looked at the paper and thought of his family in Romania. There were so many more Jews in New York, they would be much happier here. He could bring them here! They could live together in the land of the free. Ivan looked up and nodded.

Back at his apartment that night, Ivan put on the headgear for the dream device. He thought of his door man, Aaron, who had given him a friendly smile when he came in. Five people per commission. His first commission would be enough to bring his whole family to New York. He thought of Aaron, and plugged into his dream.

This time Ivan found himself in a green space that did not change when he blinked. There was less haze, more awareness. Aaron was sitting in a rocking chair a few yards in front of Ivan, smiling at him. Ivan walked up to him, “You want to buy McOranges food. Eating at McOranges is the best thing you can do.” Aaron just smiled and rocked.

Ivan woke up.

Ivan was waiting by baggage claim. He would see his family for the first time in five years in a few minutes. Ivan paced back and forth. They hadn’t exactly left things off at a good spot when he left Romania for New York. His family had saved up for years to be able to send one person to New York, and it was between Ivan and his younger brother Jacov. Jacov applied to Abernathy’s Treasure Chest; Ivan applied to Bank of Commerce. Jacov got in; Ivan did not. The day before Jacov was supposed to leave for New York, Ivan had cut the wire on his brothers bike that operated the break. Jacov crashed, snapped his leg, and got a concussion. Ivan went to New York in his place. Now he wondered if Jacov would snap his leg when he saw him.

“Ivan!” a voice cried to his left. “Ivan! Over here!” It was his father, waving his arms at him. 

Ivan needn’t have worried. His whole family surrounded him, pulling him into a big hug. Bubbe was fussing over his hair “Oy, what is this? You need a hair cut! I’ll do it for you when we get home.”

“Leave the boy alone, he’s a grown man, he can do what he wants with his hair,” said Zayde. 

“A grown man would know when he needs a haircut! This is not the haircut of a grown man!” replied Bubbe. 

His mother and sister Rachel cried and kissed him and his brother hugged him. “It’s good to see you,” said Jacov smiling.

Back at his apartment sitting around the table his mother turned to him, “So nu? What’s this job you have that made so much money you were able to bring us here all at once?”

“Yes! We’ve all been dying to know,” chimed Rachel.

Ivan hesitated. Then he told them about working on his dream device, finding chloride in the crossword puzzle, entering Mr. Marton’s dream, the note, and his deal with McOranges.

His family was silent for a long time. Finally his mother spoke, “So are you going to brainwash us next?” 

“What? No, of course not.”

“But you would do it to these innocent people?” said Zayde.

“It’s not like I’m doing something bad to them, I’m just advertising.” 

“In their dreams! Without their consent!” cried Rachel.

“I can’t believe you guys are reacting like this. I’m not brainwashing them. I’m making money! I brought you guys here!” 

“This is just like Ceaușescu!” said Bubbe. “It’s a dictatorship! McOranges is the dictator! This is not good for the Jews!”

“Bubbe, listen to yourself,” said Ivan. “This is America, we are free here! It’s different from Romania, and definitely different from communism, this is a democracy. I know you and Zayde lived through Ceaușescu, but this is America, you don’t need to worry about that here. It’s called a free market economy and I’m just working for the free market. Jacov, you know what I mean.” 

Jacov, who had been silent the whole time wouldn’t meet Ivan’s eyes. 

Ivan walked to work now. Since everyone he knew had begun eating McOranges, people had gained a lot of weight. Ivan didn’t want that to happen to him so he walked to work. Not that he actually ate McOranges, he would never. He saw what it did to people. After he entered their dreams and told them to they would eat the stuff for every meal. They would gorge themselves. Then they would throw up and gorge themselves again. It was becoming the most important thing to people.

That day, Ivan was on his way to quit his job at Abernathy’s Treasure Chest. He was making so much money doing dream advertising for McOranges that there was no reason for him to work at a bank anymore. Mr. Marton would be upset, he knew, but that couldn’t be helped. 

He walked into the office and knocked on Mr. Marton’s door. “Come in,” came the voice from inside. Mr. Marton was sitting behind his desk. Ivan flashed back to his meeting with McOranges. A nagging thought popped up You’re not doing the right thing. Ivan pushed the thought out of his mind. “Mr. Marton,” he began. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“There’s something I need to tell you first, Ivan,” Mr. Marton interrupted. “This is a bit uncomfortable for me. I was in McOranges the other day, buying a gift card for my daughter. I had them email me the receipt. When they did, they accidently emailed me something else as well. It was an exchange between someone by the name of Mr. Jobes and one of his coworkers.”

Ivan swallowed hard.

“Ivan, I know everything,” continued Mr. Marton. “I know about the dream device. In fact, I know more than you do. And there’s something I need to tell you, something you don’t know. McOranges has been using you, and not just for your labor. This is hard for me to say.” Mr. Marton glanced out the window, and then continued, “It seems they have been pulling the strings your whole life. Since you were born, they were making sure your life went they way it did. They were the reason you were able to skip shul. They were the reason your family was lucky enough to be able to save up money to send you to New York. They are the reason why ‘chloride’ appeared in that crossword puzzle.”

Ivan was speechless. He tried to open his mouth but no words came out. He wondered if maybe his feet were screeching.

“You see, Ivan. McOranges knew how to build the dream device long ago. They just needed your DNA to activate it. So they made sure you invented the dream device, and gave you help along the way. They needed you to think you were acting on your own free will.

“What do I do?” said Ivan.

“Run.”

Ivan ran. Only he didn’t run away.  He ran past sick people, throwing up people. He rain past their vomit. He ran past the lines outside McOranges restaurants. He ran to 881 W. Stanley Avenue. He got to the 13th floor and walked past the fashionable receptionist to the room where he first got into this mess. He opened the door. 

His brother, Jacov, was sitting at the table where Ivan had sat a few months earlier. Across from Jacov were the four men.

“Ivan,” started Mr. Jobes. 

Ivan slowly raised his index finger, pointing at him.

“I see you have done some research. Ivan please, let’s not start this. We can all benefit from your new knowledge. You see, we have developed a way to let another person operate the dream device. We get to continue the operation and you get to feel good about yourself for quitting”

“How?” Ivan asked.

“A person similar in DNA.”

Ivan looked at his brother. 

The title of my piece is Rosa. I chose to portray Rosa Parks in a way that shows truth. Her face is a collage made out of other civil rights leaders faces, pictures from the Montgomery Bus Boycotts, grassroots African American leaders, African American writers, and others. Rosa Parks was a face to the Montgomery bus boycott, but there were more people involved. This is why in Rosa I chose to have smaller pictures coming together to make up her face.

While sometimes an individual can be a face or a symbol to a movement, it takes many people working together to get things done. The idea that only certain special people can create change is useful when you want to prevent change from happening. This has idea been used  for too long to stop people from coming together in powerful ways (and, I believe, stems from a colonial logic and capitalistic desire and to own and be recognized). Not everyone could be Rosa Parks, but everyone could have been involved in the Montgomery Bus Boycott in some way. It is important to teach the truth in schools so kids can envision themselves as change-makers, too. One person can not do it on their own. We must organize! 

Journal #1

Iago's Soliloquy - Act 2, Scene 1, Lines 148 - 158

She that was ever fair and never proud,

Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,

Never lacked gold and yet went never gay,

Fled from her wish and yet said, “Now I may,”

She that being angered, her revenge being nigh,

Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly,

She that in wisdom never was so frail

To change the cod’s head for the salmon’s tail,

She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind,

See suitors following and not look behind,

She was a wight, if ever such wights were—

Notes 

I think that Iago should start out speaking slowly, as if he is working out something in his mind, in the process of coming to a conclusion. He should be pacing at first, and look down as though he is talking to himself, with an anxious and concerned expression on his face. Then gradually get louder and louder, with more confidence, and start to talk to Emilia angrily, as if he was conveying to her very important instructions. By the end he should be at his loudest, addressing the audience, as if trying to convince them of what he is saying. He should make gestures with his arms towards the end, and as he is addressing the audience, beseeching them to understand him, and still glance over at Emilia because it is her that he is talking about, after all. This represents Iago’s journey from not an atypical person of the time, to a ruthless murderer, liar, and criminal. The audience will get the feeling that he moving from the calm and rational and becoming more and more frantic and desperate. 

Journal #2

My character is Rodrigo. He appears in scenes with Iago mostly, He is in the first scene Act 1, Scene 1, where Iago and Rodrigo inform Desdemona's dad about her marriage. In the next scene he threatens to kill himself, and is talked out of it by Iago. He gives Iago jewels to give Desdemona, as a token of his love. Iago promises to give them to her, but doesn’t. Rodrigo doesn’t appear until the end when in Act V, Scene I-II, he comes up to Iago, angry that Desdemona has not fallen in love with him yet. Iago assures him that all is well, and that if he kills Cassio, Desdmeona will love him. Rodrigo agrees and them wounds Cassio, only to be killed, to his surprise, by Iago.

By looking at only the scenes that Rodrigo appears in, you can clearly follow his story, and motives. The only thing t hat Rodrigo was after the whole time was Desdemona’s affection. He was hopelessly in love with her, and it was that love that ended up killing him.

Journal #3

Desdemona was always an obedient girl. Her mother died when she was young. She loved her father, and never spoke back. She went to boarding school where she learned things that she thought she would one day need, and then pass down to her children, like sewing, cooking, manners, dancing, embroidery, etc. She had always hoped to have a girl. Desdemona hardly ventured out into the real world, and because of this she was pretty naive. She liked reading books with happy ending, and dreamed of one day marrying a prince. She believed that people were truly good at heart. 

She wants to have an adventure of her own, so when Othello came telling her of his stories, she fell in love with him/them. She always wanted a happy ending, which adds irony and is tragic because she doesn't get a happy ending. She believes that people are good, and doesn't think that Othello would really kill her. She is obedient to her father, which is why she is so devoted to Othello. She never really had a mother figure so she completely devotes herself to men. 

 Journal #4

When I walk on, I will curtsy to the Duke of Venice. I will keep my tone clear, and fold my hands. When walking out, I walk out arm in arm with Othello. I am going to bring in a headband to wear during the scene, because it something that I believe Desdemona would have worn, to decorate herself. Out groups presentation will stand out because we made it interesting. We incorporated the use of levels into our presentation. We also have a lot of stage movement, and thought through the blocking and character movements on the stage. We have a lot of emotion in ours, as well as gesturing, which we worked out ahead of time. You can tell that our group collaborated well. We all get really into our characters, and we have a side conversation, a soliloquy, bowing, arguing, talking, and beseeching. Our scene is very interesting.  

Journal #5

“My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty. To you I am bound for life and education. My life and education both do learn me how to respect you. You are the lord of my duty. I am hitherto your daughter. But here’s my husband, and so much duty as my mother showed to you, preferring you before her father, so much I challenge that I may profess due to the Moor my lord.”

  This quote is the first thing that Desdemona says in the whole play. The way she put together her words shows thoughtfulness. She does not say that she belongs to Othello first, and does not disrespect her father. She acknowledges that she has a “divided duty.” She praises him first, and then says that she needs to be with Othello before her father, just as her mother chose Brabantio over her own father. She plays with her father’s emotions, and it shows just how clever she is. These clever convincing words later make her confident when trying to help Cassio, while unknowingly fueling Othello’s anger and jealousy. Showing that Desdemona is honest is important because it shows just how poisoned Othello was by Iago’s words, when he was blind to her convincing truthfulness.

In the play, I delivered this line as honestly as I could, with a clear and even tone, to portray this. Our group’s performance went exactly as planned. I think we did well. We played with emotion, levels, stage directions, and props. If I was to do anything differently I would have even better costumes, and have it even more put together and extravagant but there is only so much you can do with the time we had. 

The play really pulled all the pieces of the book together for me. I understood the book, but the play definitely added.  I thoroughly enjoyed this whole experience, both with acting out Othello, and reading the book. I gained a lot. 

1.     Where does Francesca live?

2.     Where did Francesca and Luis meet?

3.     Why is Luis coming to Barcelona?

4.     What does Francesca like?

5.     What does Luis like?

6.     What does Francesca do to get ready for Luis?

7.     Why is Luis late?

8.     How old is Francesca?

9.     Where does Luis live?

10.  In the beginning of the story, what do all of Francesca’s friends have that she doesn’t have?

            My father, associates with people in his everyday life have very different backgrounds than him. People who he does not share many common similarities with. He is an outsider. How did he get here? Listen to this podcast to find out!

           Through the process of interviewing my father and mother, I learned things I had no knowledge of before. I learned aspects of his life I did not know about, aspects of my parents relationship that were new to me, and ideas about crossing boundaries filled my head.  

When crossing boundaries, there are things to be gained and things to be lost. When my father went to college, he did the unexpected, and crossed boundaries. No one in his family had, and in that way, he lost some ability to communicate openly with them. What he did gain was a whole new perspective on life, and a window into a world he had never know. It was like he got an invitation to a party that he had always dreamed about attending. When he got there, he learned that no matter how fancy the party, you can still feel out of place.

Before I educated myself about this issue, there were many others already involved, planning, getting organized, and making their voices heard. I stumbled across an issue that many people feel very passionately about. I am happy to say that I am one of those people now, too.

There have been community meetings with the Philadelphia School Reform Commission so that the community can voice their concerns about the proposed plan to close schools and possibly privatize several. To elicit change in this topic, I attended one of these meetings at Girls High School on Thursday, May 24. Below is a video clip of me speaking at the hearing.

  The following are a few pictures that I took at the meeting on May 24^th, and a few photographs of another small meeting that occurred on Tuesday, May 22^nd which the School Reform Commission did not attend. 

For those who are interested, come to 440 N Broad Street outside of the School District of Philadelphia to make sure that the SRC hears your voice! I you cannot attend; you can live stream it from your computer here. It is my opinion that my education, and the education of my friends is in jeopardy, and it is our duty to make sure that we get the education that is our right!

To quote New York Senator Bill Perkins “Charter schools came on board with the promise that they could do better for less… No sooner than they became they started advocating for more money…they began advocating to be a part of those public schools, to take over those public schools. So it’s a switcheroo kind of a thing. They came in with one expectation, and now they’re in the public schools creating all kinds of chaos. And the Mayor is closing down schools, with the plan of putting in these charter schools. And I think it’s outrageous that they’re getting paid so much.” 

Private corporations who are only looking to make money are running our schools. Does anyone else find anything wrong with this statement?

Which company the schools actually go to is still undecided. Some ideas that are floating around include having “Achievement Networks” and decisions about schools would be made within each. These decisions would be about curricula, discipline, staffing, supplies, etc. As retired teacher, education activist, and writer said Lisa Haver said in a Daily News article “District officials have admitted that this new system would do nothing to lessen the deficit…. A bidding process would determine who controls each network. Anyone may be chosen: former district personnel, charter school operators, corporations, or politicians including State Rep. Dwight Evans, who last year bullied one charter school behind closed doors in order to override the choice of parents at Martin Luther King High School. How have we arrived at a point where the public school system can be auctioned off to the lowest bidder?”

I am strongly against the privatization of public schools. After doing even further research, I learned that when a school becomes privatized, they no longer have to be transparent to the taxpayers who support it. They don’t have to release the salaries of the CEO’s or staff, do not have release whether or not they have the required level of certified teachers, and do not have to say whether or not those teachers are even teaching the subject they are certified in.

In some ways, I wish I could talk to the SRC. I would have plenty questions for them. How am I supposed to learn geometry from a certified gym teacher?  How am I supposed to become a member of by global community, and an active, contributing citizen if my government doesn’t value my education? How can I trust the SRC to be a powerful advocate for my education if, as Lisa Haver said, “its policies can be dictated by billionaires with deep pockets and rigid contracts”? 

You can find my bibliography here.

Chart depicting Philadelphia Public School District 4th grade national proficiency rating in reading, math, and science compared to other urban districts, and the national average. As you can see, every time, Philadelphia comes up short. Chart can be found here.

​ Many, many, schools and school districts have been labeled as “failing.” Because of this, districts have been privatizing schools, meaning that they place schools under the care or private corporations in the hopes that they will do a “better” job of producing higher test scores than the government can. The concept is extremely controversial because the companies that run the schools are for-profit, and not out to give students and excellent education, but to make money. When I first this, I was confused because prior to this information, I would have thought that the schools would act as a kind of black hole that sucks money and resources, not something that makes money. In actuality though, the corporations get money from the government for running the schools, and are allowed to do with it what they like.

            In Philadelphia, some schools have already been privatized and turned over to Edison Schools Inc (a private for-profit company) and we are at risk of the entire district becoming privatized. There are several factors that are contributing to this, lack of money (The Philadelphia School District has a funding gap of about $269 million according to the local paper, The Philadelphia Inquirer), low test scores, and poor management. The schools that have already become privatized though, have not shown any improvement. 

            Study author Vaughan Bymes says, “By 2006, the achievement gap between the privatized group and the rest of the district was greater than it was before the intervention.” 

  So far, I have collected information about the topic, but I am left with a feeling of wanting more, and confusion. It’s a extremely complex issue, and I have a few questions. These questions include what people are doing about this, and why ar these kind of things happening. 

I'm wondering how anyone could let this happen.

I’m wondering how things could’ve gotten out of control and gotten in such a despairing situation. 

B. In my cut out, I found the negative space by cutting out the objects, and then pasting them on one side, while a pasted the left over parts on the other side. For my drawing I simply drew the air, or the things that weren't there.

C. It helps artists to see in negative space because it helps with depth, and the outline of the drawing. It helps the artist create a clearer picture of their subject. 

D. Seeing in negative spaces drawings because it adds definition, depth, and clarity to the piece