Dissonance Day Twenty-five: Hey you kids, get off my lawn!

So – basically a continuation of the previous rant or post or whatever it was/is. I know given the impulse to set something in motion or raise questions or doubts last class (whether successfully or not) I needed to remove myself from the class. This can, of course, be accomplished in a number of different ways. If I simply don’t show up the fear is that students will assume class is canceled and go home or get coffee of whatever. If I completely structure a project for them – some kind of happening that sends them across the campus on a scavenger hunt for people, places, or notes I am still in charge and I may as well just teach the damn class. So – the solution for today was to destroy my notes. I placed them in nine envelopes with a note that basically had variations on the following:

“Congratulations – you had the initiative to open the envelope! You may ask any questions you like about Metzger’s essay, auto-destructive art, or the auto-destructive projects. If you are interested in using my question you will need to piece them together. I suspect you may need to consult other envelopes.”

I thought about having the envelops on the floor when the students entered the space, but that almost seemed too subtle and that gesture raises the same fear as students assuming that class is canceled. So – at the start of class I wandered in and placed them on the floor in a deliberate cross pattern and wandered out. I have no idea how long it took the students to realize that I was not coming back. I have no idea if they opened the envelopes. All I know is that after about 15 minutes they all came out of the building and sat in front of my office. Not sure if it is all of them – they may have split into different groups or some may have left. Sitting on the lawn in front of my office seems like a challenge – which is nice – a way of saying “look, we are doing what you want” – or something to that affect. It is an obvious gesture of visibility, but one that I appreciate – they could have all just left or sat in the classroom and talked. There does seem to be a lot of laughing, and at least one peer into the window. I figure I will just sit here and blog about my take on this.

What I have to say is that it is killing me not to go join them. I keep coming up with excuses to go outside and at least acknowledge their presence. My first thought was the iconic “hey you kids, get off my lawn” statement. But that seemed too desperate. I thought about following the peer into the window with a comment, but again, that somehow seems too needy. Then I started to gather books that might be useful or interesting to look at – a few on Metzger, Stewart Home’s Assault on Culture, and this wonderful book called Under Destruction from an exhibit at Museum Tinguely. Then I decided not to interrupt the conversation with my crap (although for some reason I do feel the need to post the links here). Part of walking away is that I have to be prepared to walk away. One thing I can say is that walking away from a class is much harder than actually teaching it. Especially this class.

I’m not sure why but it feels “new,” the way classes feel when you first start teaching somewhere. You don’t know the students, they don’t know you but over the course of the term you get to know each other. I have to say that I have been delighted by the level of work this term. By the questions, by the conversations, by the dynamic that is created by this mixture of students with this material. That is what is so hard to walk away from. I really am hooked on the conversation. But as long as I am asking the questions it can’t really evolve beyond my own obsessions and fascinations.  I find that I do get frustrated from time to time with students I think can work harder, push themselves farther, develop ideas more fully, but then I think back on all of the great work that has been done this term and the frustration dissipates. Bob and I had always talked about deliberately creating an obsolescence for ourselves with both the Gen Art class and the Virtual Worlds class. That has been the trajectory here. The hard part is that without Bob I’ve no one left to talk to. Well – that may not be entirely true since the students just popped into my office (complete with the phrase “don’t know if you saw us out here”) and tossed a bunch of papers – presumably the envelop material, and left a piece of notebook paper with – well who knows what. I’ll wait for the class to be “officially” over before I look at it.

I have found that in the past after classes like this students do want to talk about it. That may or may not be the case here. So, I figure the next class we listen to some music. I am happy to talk or not talk about today’s class. The impulse to do so will not come from me. I suppose I should just set up the material and leave, but there is no way in hell I am leaving my records alone in the gym. Way too valuable to me. Plus we do need to discuss what happens the last week of class. In retrospect before I removed myself from the class I should have covered all of that. OK – well – there is always next time.

OK - P.S. time. Glad I went up to the gym. I love the fact that no matter how a day like this is framed at some point tables and chairs are turned over. One of these days I want to teach in a classroom where they are always turned over.  Having picked through the detritus left by the class, including the faggot on the porch (in the most traditional sense) and the remains of what looks like a fire, I finally sat down to look over the scraps of paper. I must admit I am touched. Partly because I did see walking away as a sort of betrayal, but also partly because it is clear that at least some of the students understood why. The comment "you missed a great class" also comes with the acknowledgment that had I remained it would have not been so. Students sitting around talking about art - at an art school - go figure. I know that this gesture could only come at this point in the term - any earlier and too many would have walked away. To those who stayed. Thank you. Hopefully when I return to the conversation it can be as a participant and not a leader.