My first week of internship is over, and somehow it seems surreal to think about the past two weeks as a mere collection of 14 days. After all, I've had enough experiences in teh past two weeks to make up for a month at Houghton or at home. I've begun to master a new city's geography. I know more than I ever cared to about the ugly uses people put their desacralized churches to (I mean, a loading dock, really?)
Since I last wrote, I have traveled to Houghton (Wednesday). That morning was spent in more data collection and entry. I made a major breakthrough methodologically (meaning I discovered how to use Google Maps on my iPad) and somehow discovered 30 churches in 4 hours. I still haven't repeated that feat.
Then it was a quick hop down to Houghton. Frankly, it felt weird to see people dashing about to their classes and their clubs and their lectures and their homework like ants in a beehive. Or perhaps I was the ant in the beehive, because I knew there was order and structure to the chaos I saw around me but I was no longer a native to it. Five weeks since my most recent semester at Houghton and already the giddiness baffles me. Still, I got to see friends and plan a blood drive.
Thursday was a bit of a slow day. I got dreadfully lost looking for the historical society, but other than that it was a rather nondescript day. Class with Chuck was interesting, though, since it was about the education system in cities. As a lifelong teacher and student, I was fascinated and repulsed by the magnitude of the problems in the city school system. We still segregate, of course, but socioeconomic segregation may be even worse than racial segregation, since it culls the smartest and most productive into an Honors High School while the children of lower performers never get exposed to another way of life. How do we break this cycle of social inequality?
Friday gave me no answers, though it did highlight another aspect of the problem. The mainline, posh churches of the old downtown long ago moved out of the city. The established middle-class churches have also moved out. An endless cycle of start-ups and quick solutions have plagued the churches of the West Side and the East Side in Buffalo. Some church buildings had had three to five owners since they were sold by the original congregation in the 90s.The church, in this case, look suspiciously like a governmental aid program or a microwave cure.
We went to the Irish Classical Theatre last night as well. The play was about the IRA, I suppose, and the British, though it seemed that everyone was rather muddle about why precisely they hated each other. It, at times, tried to present the characters as victims of their times. But Leslie, the English private, and Patrick, the IRA vet, seem to have been catching on to the true nature of things at the end. They weren't victims, they were potential victims. There are very few heroes in teh world, but there are many people who must resist the seduction of being victimized. Even when Leslie was shot, at the end, we realized that his death was a triumph in absurdity. It was, in fact, an Absurdist play that seemed eerily coherent, like a thought that has been hovering at the edge of the brain for hours.
And today, now, is Saturday. I slept in (for possibly the last time all semester). I lounged the day away chatting with family, taking walks, etc. Now I'm about to plunge into the hedonism of a game night.
Since I last wrote, I have traveled to Houghton (Wednesday). That morning was spent in more data collection and entry. I made a major breakthrough methodologically (meaning I discovered how to use Google Maps on my iPad) and somehow discovered 30 churches in 4 hours. I still haven't repeated that feat.
Then it was a quick hop down to Houghton. Frankly, it felt weird to see people dashing about to their classes and their clubs and their lectures and their homework like ants in a beehive. Or perhaps I was the ant in the beehive, because I knew there was order and structure to the chaos I saw around me but I was no longer a native to it. Five weeks since my most recent semester at Houghton and already the giddiness baffles me. Still, I got to see friends and plan a blood drive.
Thursday was a bit of a slow day. I got dreadfully lost looking for the historical society, but other than that it was a rather nondescript day. Class with Chuck was interesting, though, since it was about the education system in cities. As a lifelong teacher and student, I was fascinated and repulsed by the magnitude of the problems in the city school system. We still segregate, of course, but socioeconomic segregation may be even worse than racial segregation, since it culls the smartest and most productive into an Honors High School while the children of lower performers never get exposed to another way of life. How do we break this cycle of social inequality?
Friday gave me no answers, though it did highlight another aspect of the problem. The mainline, posh churches of the old downtown long ago moved out of the city. The established middle-class churches have also moved out. An endless cycle of start-ups and quick solutions have plagued the churches of the West Side and the East Side in Buffalo. Some church buildings had had three to five owners since they were sold by the original congregation in the 90s.The church, in this case, look suspiciously like a governmental aid program or a microwave cure.
We went to the Irish Classical Theatre last night as well. The play was about the IRA, I suppose, and the British, though it seemed that everyone was rather muddle about why precisely they hated each other. It, at times, tried to present the characters as victims of their times. But Leslie, the English private, and Patrick, the IRA vet, seem to have been catching on to the true nature of things at the end. They weren't victims, they were potential victims. There are very few heroes in teh world, but there are many people who must resist the seduction of being victimized. Even when Leslie was shot, at the end, we realized that his death was a triumph in absurdity. It was, in fact, an Absurdist play that seemed eerily coherent, like a thought that has been hovering at the edge of the brain for hours.
And today, now, is Saturday. I slept in (for possibly the last time all semester). I lounged the day away chatting with family, taking walks, etc. Now I'm about to plunge into the hedonism of a game night.
No comments:
Post a Comment