06/03/2026
Togetherhood…The students in Harlem are something special. The kindergartners, first graders, and second graders all understand emotions, how to name them, embody them fully, and transmute the energy into something
else.
The third graders are way too cool to sing and dance - until they hear the 4th graders love to, and then suddenly everyone is ready to play along with the lesson of the day.
The 5th graders remind me that teamwork is a learned skill, and they practice it
well.
The YMCA near Malcolm X Blvd serves as a safe haven - for them, and me too.
When the days have felt uneasy, the markets volatile, the future uncertain: there is
always clay creation.
A return to craft, we gather.
Each class, we would dump bags of colored clays on the tables and the girls would
tend to divvy everything evenly while the boys would tend to try to barter each
other and gain a monopoly over the class supply. We’d all giggle because of
course - that’s ridiculous
I’d guide conversations with one message in mind: ART HEALS EARTH.
There is a student I think of often.
At the start of the semester, I got the impression he had a bit of a reputation as a
“trouble-maker” in some rooms. With awareness, I know that word is often coded
for unnamed prejudices - so I always look deeper for untapped talents to nurture.
And man oh man, that boy can sculpt.
On our last day of class, he told me the good news that he was elected class
president.
I was over the moon proud of him, and his classmates all supportively cheered.
He thanked me for our time together, and handed me his final sculpture:
A globe of our planet.
Art heals Earth.
