Neighborhood Project

FADE IN

INT. CLASSROOM – DAY

Multiracial classroom is bustling with 12-13 years handing permission forms to MR. D.(a tall white man) and MS. ANDERSON (a light skinned Black woman), putting on their jackets, talking with each other.

MS. ANDERSON is making marks on a roll sheet as MR. D. collects forms.

Throughout the pan of the room, a small 12-year-old black student, MIKE, is sitting in a chair in the back of the room looking sullen.

A Latina female student hopping back and forth on either leg moves to the door.

LATINA FEMALE STUDENT
(Loudly over the bustle)
Ms. Anderson, I gotta use the bathroom before we go, can I?

MS. ANDERSON
Yes, but hurry.

BLACK FEMALE STUDENT
Me too.

The two students rush out the door.

MR. D.
(Shouting)
Okay everyone, please stop what you’re doing and listen.

The students’ excited chatter continues unabated.

MR. D.
(Softer but still loud)
Clap once if you can hear my voice.

Half the class offers a synchronized clap.

MR. D.
Clap twice if you can hear my voice.

Two loud synchronized claps by the whole class.

MR. D.
Clap three times if you can hear my voice

Three loud synchronized claps by the whole class. Then silence.

MR. D.
Thank you. Now listen to the directions I am about to give you. When I point to you say and remember your number. We have to take two buses to get to the Bayview Hunter’s Point neighborhood and we need to make sure we don’t lose anyone.

Pointing to each person in turn each student calls out a number from 1 to 24.

The two students in the bathroom return just as the last numbers are called out.

MS. ANDERSON
You are 25 and you are 26.

MR. D.
Okay. Let’s see if you are ready. Listen up… Count off!

Students call out 1, 2, 3, 4, and so on up until 26.

MS ANDERSON
We’re heading out to the bus. I am in front. No one can pass me. Mr. D. is in the rear.

MR. D.
(Interupting)
You better not let me pass you!

SEVERAL STUDENTS
Ohhh!

MIKE
(Raising hand while talking)
Do we have to go?

MR. D.
Yes!

MIKE
This is a stupid field trip, I don’t want to go!

MR. D.
I’ve been over this with you, Mike. You are going.

MIKE rolls his eyes and shakes his head indicating his frustration.

MS. ANDERSON
(softly, to only MR. D)
What’s up with Mike? Why is he acting so strange?

MR. D
He doesn’t want us visiting his neighborhood.

MR. D. Turns and speaks to the class.

MR. D
Alright, remember, you are representing yourself, you family and your school. I know you all know how to act right, so I expect you to be on point today. Please follow MS. ANDERSON out of the building and to the bus stop.

MS. ANDERSON walks out the classroom door followed by a herd of students. MIKE remains seated in the back seat of the classroom as the students finish exiting the classroom. MR. D is putting on his jacket and backpack and going to lock the door.

MR. D
Mike, let’s go!

MIKE
Man, I don’t want to go. Can’t I just stay with Mr. Steven’s class?

MR. D
No, now come on!

MIKE slowly gets up and saunters to the door. MR D holds the door open and as MIKE finally reaches the door, he makes a large gesture with his arm like a maître d to guide MIKE out the door. MR D then proceeds to close and lock the door.

FADE OUT

FADE IN

EXT. SIDEWALK IN CITY — DAY

Students are walking in few different clusters not far behind MS. ANDERSON except way back is MIKE and MR D walking slowly.

MR. D
What’s going on Mike. Why are you walking so slow and being so negative, it’s not like you.

MIKE
(looking down)
I didn’t want y’all coming to my neighborhood. This is hella bootsie.   What are we even doing here.

MR. D
You know why we’re here. We’ve been working on the neighborhood projects for three weeks now. You totally loved the last tour of Noe Valley.

MIKE
If I see any of my friends, I’m gonna walk away and act like I don’t know none of y’all.

Mr. D
You better think about it. You don’t want me to be callin’ your grandmother?

Eric’s Artist’s Statement

I chose this scene with Mike because this was one of the moments that I began to see the complicated negotiations that some of my students, particularly my Black and Latino students have to negotiate to maintain academic success. Mike was a squirrelly seventh grader in this scene. He could never sit still.   He was also always deeply engaged in class, an enthusiastic participant and an intellectual leader in the class. In our neighborhood study project, in which we toured and researched the history of each of the different San Francisco neighborhoods our students were from, Mike had been similarly engaged and enthusiastic. He had loved getting up and walking through the different neighborhoods. All until we went to visit his neighborhood. Then he became completely sullen and resistant. I realized that Mike had chosen to go to a school far from his neighborhood.   He kept his school reality very removed from his connection to the youth in his neighborhood and his home. He embodied two completely separate identities—a straight A student and a gang-banger. He would go onto to a high school even farther from his home in the Bayview neighborhood. He would continue to earn good grades and engage in various criminal activities on the streets. This recognition led me to write my dissertation about Mike and a few other students like Mike who are viewed as both “bad” and “good” and how they navigate these complicated relations. Eventually, his street life caught up with him. He was arrested and sent to a group home two hours from his home. During his senior year, where he had been a star at the high school in a rural community where he lived in the group home, he finally completed his sentence and returned home to the Bayview. Hanging out with his friends a couple days after he returned, he was shot in the head and killed in a drive-by shooting. I had spent four years documenting Mike’s life through middle school and into high school marveling at the way he was able to navigate his complicated life. How he avoided being seen as a geek through athletics and a strong street demeanor. But in all my documenting, I failed to make a difference in his life. I made it my ambition to never just document, but to act to improve outcomes—knowledge without any impact in the lives of those I work with is problematic. But I choose to remember this scene because it not only forces me to remember how complicated Mike’s life was, but it also makes me smile thinking about him as a twelve year rather than thinking about his 17 year old body lying in a coffin. But the image of his powder blue casket makes me remember how serious this work is.