A Spectacular Parade

What will make it spectacular will be the students. Artists, actors, dancers, and musicians, photographers, poets, and performers of all types, these ACMA students will collaborate this February to fill our school with an astonishing extravaganza: The ACMA Spectacular!

The ACMA Spectacular is a joint effort between our school and Parent Teacher Organization. Replacing the auctions of yesteryear, The ACMA Spectacular is our biggest fundraiser of the year, with ticket sales for the performance going to help support students and programs, opportunities to purchase artwork at the event, and fun ways to support the school while getting a little something as a prize like live caricatures by our drawing students or copies of our literary magazine or student literature anthology.

At a place where so many departments produce amazing work, this is the one time of the year when everyone works together to celebrate the kaleidoscopic delight that is Arts & Communication Magnet Academy. The ACMA Spectacular will live up to its name.

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…and it will be different. Delightfully so.

For nearly thirty years ACMA has been tucked away on a little campus off of Center Street, and for the past decade most performances have taken place in our beautiful performing arts center. This year that campus is a flat lot, an expanse of dirt the blank canvas on which our new building will emerge. The new building will attach to the PAC, a fact that’s good for kids, but right now means that our most beloved venue is surrounded by chain link construction fencing. It is a reality that invites innovation.

At ACMA we know how to innovate.

So with this time of change in our minds and the energy that comes from improvisation filling our creative soul, this year’s ACMA Spectacular will embrace the notion of upheaval and take as its theme art in motion, a parade.

Specifically, Picasso’s 1917 ballet Parade. A performance of the ballet, complete with ACMA designed costumes and sets, is the starting point and one of three centerpieces of this year’s ACMA Spectacular. 

Parade was actually written by writer and filmmaker Jean Cocteau, with music by “gymnopedist” composer Erik Satie, and surrealistic sets and cubist costumes designed by Pablo Picasso. Their early 20th century collaboration was novel to say the least, and the result left Parisian audiences as confused as they were delighted. 

The story goes that E.E. Cummings was at the premiere of Parade, and dug the surrealist experience. I like to imagine that the show at least helped to inspire his 1924 poem…

Picasso
you give us things
which
bulge:grunting lungs pumped full of sharp thick mind

you make us shrill
presents always
shut in the sumptuous screech of
simplicity

(out of the
black unbunged
Something gushes vaguely a squeak of planes
or

between squeals of
Nothing grabbed with circular shrieking tightness
solid screams whispers.)
Lumberman of the Distinct

your brain’s
axe only chops hugest inherent
Trees of Ego,from
whose living and biggest

bodies lopped
of every
prettiness

you hew form truly”

And sure Picasso’s costumes were clunky, made of wood and cardboard, and the set tilted with shapes and angles, the work of a painter, not designer. And yes, the music slips into ragtime during the show (and ragtime ballet is not a rich genre …yet). And yep, the story was about a group of artists struggling  to gather an audience for their show, busking the streets of Paris, trying to capture the attention of passersby. But a century later the idea of Picasso’s Parade is as rich with possibilities as it was on the day before opening night 1917.

Such collaboration and innovation is something we’re proud to do at ACMA, and from the start of this year’s soirée both are evident in the work we’re doing to prepare.

You can see this inspiration finding its first voice in the artwork for the ACMA Spectacular poster. ACMA visual artists were asked to come up with representations of a parade, and shared a parcel of images with our PTO, a creative collective of parents tasked with marketing the event. Wildly diverse, these artistic interpretations reflected our students’ many points of view.

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A clever parent looked at these offerings and embraced the improvisational mantra: “Yes, and…” The end result was a wild mélange that included bits from many of the students’ work. Like so much of ACMA, this parent’s ingenuity embraced the abundance of art and allowed something marvelous and unexpected to emerge.

Last year’s Spectacular was epic, both in spectacle and duration. This year we’re already working on tightening up the show, even as we keep the connections between artistic pathways and representations from each. We hope, like Cummings’ Picasso, to “hew form truly.”

This year, in our temporary home on 118th, three venues will hold that “sumptuous screech of simplicity” (well, maybe not too simple), as one big experience fills campus for two nights of artistic celebration. Dance, song, art, spoken word, and so much more will be on display, some of it for sale. We’ll stage Picasso’s Parade in the large dance studio, with costumes by our visual artists and music by our orchestra and band, and have two other theatrical spaces where audiences can see the artistic power of our amazing students.

This is a fundraiser, so we hope our patrons and friends will give generously as they enjoy the show. Supporting art and artists is a tradition as old as time, and all of our students benefit when the community around them both believe in them and help provide the resources they need to create.

The 2020 ACMA Spectacular will be filled with some surprises, some standards …and all ACMA!

You can purchase tickets now at our PTO website!

Poe(try)

It started when my phone pinged with a text from one of my English teachers: “Nerding out over Poe in prep for some Halloween poetry. I’m proud of the pattens the kids caught here!”

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That pride, indicative of the relationship so many of our teachers share with students, moved me. I love being invited in to visit classes, and am always pleased to see teachers sharing a sense of wonder with their kids. It was late in the day when I got that message, but vowed to myself to visit the poetry class later in the week. 

The week got away from me.

The next week looked like it might too.

And then I got another text from that English teacher: “Next week, on Wednesday the 30th, in 6th per, we will be sharing our ‘Poe-try.’ I told the class I would invite you, and challenge you to draft an attempt. We are using the last line of “Annabel Lee” as a model. I’ll send you our scansion.”

And the world got a little better.

I said “I’m in!” of course, and took a look at “Annabel Lee.” Poe is a favorite of more high schoolers than you’d imagine, not just at ACMA, but an author I don’t read as often as others, so it took me a couple of days to get the meter and rhyme into my head enough to give my own stanza a go.

I opted for a holiday themed entry in the parade of poems, something I hoped was a serviceable stanza, one internal off rhyme, and a nod to both our school and our poet of inspiration.

Each year on Halloween, here at ACMA it seems
That the costumes I see are divine.
And the students and staff, with a smile and a laugh,
Show creativity greater than mine.
But this national holiday, here at our school anyway,
Is a glimpse of ACMA at play,
With capes and masks, a splendid show
And some poems in the style of Poe.”

The students, of course did even better.

Now I’ve been doing my best to read a book of poetry each week this school year, so it felt like I was coming home when I arrived at the classroom, a creative space filled with two dozen poets and a palpable positive energy.

After a few minutes of spooky music someone noticed aloud that it was far too sunny a day to be talking about Poe. Poetic smiles blossomed around the table. Then, the students looked up at the inspiration stanza from “Annabel Lee” and talked about some of the challenges they found in imitation: meter, refrains, internal rhyme.

Out of nowhere a student asked if anyone had a band-aid for her paper cut; a little blood on this day of “Poe-try” didn’t seem out of place.

A discussion of anapestic tetrameter broke out. It was glorious. 

poeThen the poets got to sharing.

Most followed Poe’s lead and took as their subject matter “real-life fears” from anxiety to climate change. Images of paralysis and abandoned roller coasters, people encased in tree sap and children drowning beneath the ocean waves rose from the pages. These amazing authors filled the room with a poetic energy that would have made the old Baltimorian proud. 

Some poets veered into satire (“Awful Edgar Poe”) or wit (a devilish voicemail) and others fully embraced the idea of the macabre. From pills and pixels to brain trauma and the synecdoche of a simple white sheet, these delightfully dark poems embraced the spirit of the day before Halloween.

One poet offered that she had two poems, the first “really gross” (which only made the class more curious) and asked us which we’d like to hear. “Both” was the only correct answer. When she told us the title of the first was “Fresh Meat” I heard a classmate whisper “Oh my god.” It got better from there, ending with the teacher’s wry question to the poet “Are you okay?”

She was, and we were, and the morning of poetry (Poe-try) could not have been better.

So I raise a glass to all those teachers who are proud of their students, so proud that they tell friends, call colleagues, and even text administrators like me. Caring, engaging, and making art together, here’s to everyone having the opportunity to “nerd out” over something we love and then share that with someone else.

Throwback

Dress up days are almost always a crapshoot. For every successful Pyjama Day is a clunker that leaves students either puzzled or uninspired. At most middle and high schools a few standards hold sway (usually with alliteration) so seeing “Throwback Thursday” on the Spirit Week calendar doesn’t particularly raise anyone’s hopes. But students have the fundamental ability to surprise us, often in creative and clever ways, and last Thursday at ACMA was an example of what makes me hopeful about the future.

Populating the halls on ACMA’s Throwback Thursday were the almost to be expected bell bottoms, poodle skirts, and leg warmers, all done with the eye of an artist, and…

For anyone who thinks that “kids today” have had their creativity zapped by technology, their spirits broken by school, or their innovation stifled by a world of questionable priorities, I offer ACMA’s Throwback Thursday as exhibit A that the kids are more than all right. 

On Thursday ACMA students took the concept of “Throwback” and made it their own.

Rosie the Riveter walked passed me holding hands with a fantastically robed Jedi master, the 1940s meeting “a long, long time ago.” Sharks and Jets shared the hallway with Robin Hood; a student wearing a bowler hat and pinstripe suit high-fived two Jazzercise instructors. At lunchtime I saw an Egyptian pharaoh.

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Now in and of itself this may not sound crazily important, and I suppose in the greater scheme of things it isn’t, but this combination of youthful exuberance and wild creativity, made manifest by students who constructed their own costumes and were willing to spend a school day as 19th century banker or Laura Ingalls Wilder reminded me that I have the good fortune to be surrounded by students who are innovative, thoughtful, and willing to put aside inhibition and play.

These weren’t simply costumes plucked off the wall at the Halloween store; the spikes on my punk rocker’s wrist and neck would have passed muster in 1983, the tinted glasses and tie-dye shirt one student wore looked like they’d been around since 1969, and the Beavis and Butthead t-shirt one student sported felt authentic. Even these more conventional approaches to Throwback Thursday had been put together thoughtfully, an approach that I see many students take to most of the subjects they care about.

IMG_1840For the more adventurous or theatrical, that forethought exploded into the reality of flappers and fedoras for Throwback Thursday. 

Once again, the takeaway wasn’t just that creative kids like dressing up in costumes (though they do), but that when they want to, today’s youth has the potential to innovate, to take an established prompt and make it their own. This is as true for something as little as a dress up day as it is something big like climate change, period poverty, or school safety.

Unfettered by the many limitations those of us over thirty put on ourselves and the cultural expectations dictated by our greater society, students know that the world is theirs for the changing. Many of this generation aren’t going to do what we expect them to do, or at least not in the way we expect them to do it. Instead, like that Jedi and Rosie the Riveter, or pharaoh, or punk rocker, they will build on the history the know, express the passion they feel, and create the reality they want to see.

Maybe I’m sentimental, it’s an accusation I’ll own up to, and maybe today was just a great dress up day during Fall Spirit Week, but I choose to recognize it as more. My older eyes saw in my students an expression of creativity that will lead to a better world, a sense of hope wrapped in an expression of joy, a bright future dressed in old clothes.

“You can just talk” 

The senior, a gifted musician, talented artist, and leader of our National Honor Society, slowly raised his hand. He looked to the moderator and waited. She was listening to another girl and after a moment or two made eye contact with the patient senior. The moderator smiled. “You can just talk,” she said, welcoming, kind, the perfect leader of a student gathering. He put his hand down, smiled back, and launched into a big idea about how high school students could help support middle schoolers on our 6th-12th grade campus.

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It was lunchtime on a Friday and the first meeting of our ACMA Student Forum.

The idea was simple: two amazing students moderated a discussion, projecting a shared document on the wall and asking students what topics they wanted to talk about. While one typed, everyone gathered was invited to pitch in ideas about what was working at our school, what wasn’t working, and what they thought might help make ACMA better.

Students, any students, not just students elected to student government or as Ohana reps, could say whatever they thought. All voices were equal, whether it was a plucky 6th grader or a veteran like that twelfth grade fellow who raised his hand.

IMG_1731The couple of dozen students listened to each other, added their ideas to the mix, and asked questions. I was there to listen and answer any questions that the principal might, but the forum wasn’t mine, it belonged to the students.

Topics ranged beautifully from a question about how much time the seniors would have to present their Capstone projects in March (they’d like as much time as they could have to share their art) to how often we might make announcements (the hope was once a week over the PA, and maybe finding some other ways to spread the word about important events).

Students talked about how to support clubs (a club fair at lunch was one idea) and what we might do to invite more art into our lunches (music, visual art displays, and excerpts from productions all rose from the diverse voices in the room). Lots of students nodded as they enjoyed pizza together. 

While one moderator typed furiously to capture the ideas (her notes will be shared with the staff next week), the other moderator invited comments from the group, prompting, praising, and promoting a lively discussion.

Then, in what struck me as a delightful surprise, the discussion turned to academics. 

“We’re seen as an art school,” a senior said, “and we should be, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t do math and science and the academic subjects too.”

“We’re proud of being artists,” another student added, “and being different, but sometimes I think the younger kids don’t understand how seriously we take our studies.”

IMG_1737“Especially the sixth graders.”

“They see us being goofy in the hallways,” said another, “but not when we’re crying over an essay at two in the morning.”

“How can we help that?” a junior asked.

“We could talk to them in their Ohanas,” someone suggested. “Like right after midterms, when they’re getting their grades.”

“And we could help them,” another said. She looked around at the group. “Could we offer to tutor younger kids during Access?”

For any non-ACMA readers, “Access” is a 40 minute long period once a week when students can sign up to go to visit any teacher they’d like for extra help, to make up a test, or work on a project. Sometimes teachers get swamped, and the students at our forum noted that many of them had already taken and passed classes the underclassmen and middle schoolers were in now; they’d be willing to form study groups that med during that time.

Some of the students started talking logistics, some brainstormed the classes kids would need the most help in. One let her thinking include the topics of balance and wellness, and how students might help one another. Another how soon they could go to Ohanas to speak to students about taking academics seriously. Everyone was amazing.

IMG_1734…and I’d be fibbing if I said that I expected today’s forum to jump from art and communication to academics, but then it did.

These awesome students, given the opportunity to talk about anything they wanted, chose to talk about how they could help.

At ACMA that shouldn’t be surprising. 

Because as proud as we are to be a school of artists, free thinkers, and open minded humans, we’re also a school filled with students who care, students who want to help, and students who take their studies seriously  (even if they don’t always take themselves seriously, a healthy trait).

That one student said: “you need to know algebra even if you’re going to a conservatory” showed a glimpse of that ACMA magic. This is a place where the unexpected should be expected, where kindness finds its way into our best conversations, and where a gathering of artistic souls can go anywhere. 

“You can just talk,” our moderator told her peers. Today they did.

 

We’ll have our next ACMA Student Forum in the student study area in the B100 hall at both lunches on November 20th. 

“Making your unknown known…”

The poet finished her second piece and looked up at the audience. “I have one more,” she said quietly into the mic. “Would you like me to read the long version or the short version?” The crowd answered without hesitation, shouting enthusiastically: “LONG!” The poet smiled, just a little, her composure strong. “Really?” she asked. “YES!” answered the audience. And it was awesome.

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The whole event was an experiment to be sure, something ACMA hadn’t tried before, at least not this way. Open Mic Nights of recent years past have been marvelous affairs populated by wildly talented students with polished pieces, well organized and planned weeks in advance. Last Friday’s soiree was the equivalent of a pick up basketball game, or one of the guitar pulls famously hosted by Johnny Cash (where Shel Silverstein might try out a piece to an audience including Kris Kristofferson or Johnny Cash might sing a tune to T Bone Burnett). It was a night of having fun, trying things out, and cheering each other on like crazy.

IMG_1526Students arrived at the venue, a rug a the base of some concrete steps set up with a simple mic, a stool, and an upright piano, and wrote their names on a clipboard. We tried to mix it up so singers were interspersed with stand up comedy, dance, and poetry. 

I told the performers and those in the audience something I believe to be an ACMA truth: “Art matters and sharing art with one another can be a positive and transformative experience. ACMA Open Mic Nights are forgiving and kind affairs, and strive to encourage all performers to continue to create art, share their voices with others, and applaud like nobody’s business.” At ACMA we’re in the business of making artists, sure, and also making good audiences.

IMG_1552We started with the philosophy: “Whether you succeed or not is irrelevant, there is no such thing. Making your unknown known is the important thing,” a line from Georgia O’Keeffe.

The night wasn’t only about beautifully crafted pieces, but invited our students to try something that mattered to them. Our school is rich with opportunities for students to audition, rehearse, hone and perfect performances, but Friday invited them to do something different.

There was no backstage on Friday, just people in the audience watching, waiting their turn, and cheering when they saw peers make art. The informal feel of the night complimented the variety of performances: a marvelous song with ukulele, an a capella dance number (really), a very funny standup set on drivers education, and a show stopping pair of songs with piano and voice. Add to that the moving poetry that started this post, an acting scene, and more than a few songs that had the audience humming and wanting to join in on, and we had all the fixings of a great event.

It takes courage to stand up in front of an audience and, to use O’Keefe’s phrase, “make your unknown known,” and on Friday’s Open Mic Night that’s just what these amazing ACMA students did. 

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We’ll do it all again, with Open Mic Nights on November 5th, and December 13th, from 6:30-8:00 pm at ACMA. Come cheer on the kids, allow yourself to laugh, applaud, and be inspired.

Knee Deep in the Hoopla

I could always walk the hall from end to end in five minutes. Starting out in front of the office —after hitting “play” on the morning music— I would go up past the mural of Leonidas, turn the corner and say hello to Mr. Kindblade, who was always standing outside his classroom greeting students to start the day, and walk up the sloped hallway beneath the dog Mona Lisa mural saying good morning to students while managing most days not to spill my coffee. I’d keep going past the Tom Marsh Gallery and on up to the end of the hallway where I’d usually open the doors to the outside and say hi to the students coming out to the music portable. From there I’d retrace my steps, music still filling the halls (as much as our antiquated speakers would allow, too loud in some spots, hardly audible in others) weaving through the thinning crowd as I passed a large mural of Pegasus and our iconic flannel clad Mona Lisa, turned the corner near the student store, and ended up at the doors to the library.

Dog-a LisaSometimes —oftener and oftener to be honest— the music didn’t sound so great. Sure it might be a fantastic tune, a little Billie Holiday or David Bowie, but the PA system had seen its best days end back when Jimmy Carter was president, and all too often it was hard to if the Bangles were really telling us to walk like an Egyptian or Johnny Cash was actually talking about a burning ring of fire.

That said, I loved seeing nearly every student every morning, even if the crowds could be dense, the songs filled with static, and my coffee always just one rolling backpack away from disaster.

Moving to a new building this year, those of us in the front office knew that we wanted to keep the ACMA tradition of morning music in lieu of a first bell alive. Touchstones like that are important as we work to keep our sense of ACMA strong.

We were excited to have a better internal sound system, and we spent the summer working with everyone we thought might help us be sure we could play five minutes of music every morning to start the school day. Herculean efforts by my amazing assistant, whom I’m certain got more than a few sideways looks when she tried to explain to people unfamiliar with ACMA how important it was that the principal be able to play a Starship song at 7:25 AM, paid off, and by opening day we were able to start the morning by explaining to our students in song that “we built this city on rock and roll.”

pegasus.jpgThe song was so clear in the hallways of our temporary campus, and I even heard a student on that first day laughing and telling a friend “I don’t know why, but I love this song.”

Me too.

And as the opening weeks rolled out (to the sounds of Miles Davis, Styx, Ella Fitzgerald, and Buckshot LeFonque among others) I realized that no matter how fast I walked, I couldn’t make it from one end of our borrowed building to the other in five minutes.

What to do?

I tried being equitable, walking the C Hall one day and the B Hall the next. I attempted to circumnavigate from the giant painting of David Bowie outside the front office up the stairs, down the B200s, over the skybridge, down the stairs, and up the C100s. Bob Dylan stopped singing about “Mr. Tambourine Man” before I made it back around.

SpartansIt’s still early in the year and I’ve got good walking shoes. I believe I’ll figure it out.

When we move back to our new campus on Center Street in the fall of 2021 things will be better. There will still be more ground to cover than our original campus, but we’ll be closer again, our doorways not separated by sprawling hallways or empty classrooms, but clustered around an open area ready made for art. 

In the meantime…

I’ll relish walking (on sunshine) the halls every morning, hearing (really clear) music from across the decades, as diverse as Blind Lemon Jefferson and Cher, Chet Baker and Katrina and the Waves, Aretha Franklin and Tom Waits; as diverse as the creative souls who fill our school.

I’ll still say good morning to the kids, still see teachers out in front of their doorways, and still do my best to avoid spilling my coffee. Things might be a little different, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t be as good as they always were, and maybe even better. We’re still together (and now without portables). We still dance when we hear Cindy Lauper or Panic! at the Disco come over the PA, now clearer than ever. We’re finding out way together, building this city on…

“ACMA isn’t a building.”

What elevated the ceremony into something to be remembered were the powerful and heartfelt words of the three ACMA students who spoke at the groundbreaking for ACMA’s new campus, the many students and staff in attendance, and the smiles and laughter when the kids (all of them who wanted to) got to pose in front of the heavy machinery holding ceremonial shovels. 

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In the fall of 2021 Arts & Communication Magnet Academy will open our new building on the original Center Street location where we have been making art and making memories since the school was born. The transformation will be profound, the mid century elementary school building that warmed our hearts with nostalgia, but whose antiquated radiators could no longer reliably warm our classrooms, replaced by a modern building designed to be an art school.

At the groundbreaking on Saturday, Heidi Chuc-Garcia, a senior, spoke first, providing her thoughts in verse:

I’m from a hallway with murals on the walls.
I’m from classroom that reflects teachers personalities.
I’m from having lunch in the hallways, classrooms, portables, and outside.
I’m from a strange place,
A hallway with dim lights and slightly colored water
Where some classrooms were too hot and some were too cold.
I’m a burrito smelling class in Walker’s room after lunch
To the broken windows in Kraxy’s, Alby’s, Gottshall’s, and Lupe’s rooms
And being bushed and bumped by seniors in sixth grade
And falling and tripping over rolling backpacks.
And I’m from music blasting from some of the school speakers
From 7:25 to 7:30
And watching four teachers push their carts up and down hills
And through the hallway.
This is a place where artists were pushed and inspired.
I was always mesmerized by the art around me.
I’m from a place where teachers have a passion for what they teach
And is shows, it really does.
I’m from supporting staff and teachers who believe in me.

The truth is, that while this location represents those memories,
It’s not about the building, and never has been.
You see, I’m still making these memories
With my friends and teachers at the new building
Because ACMA is its people
Its students and teachers and staff.
This place only encapsulates some of those memories
It renders them, and that’s okay
Because we carry them.
It’s been a long journey, and today’s an important day
Because it’s the commencement of a new chapter
And although I won’t be here when it’s finished
I can’t describe how excited I am for the returning students.

So I guess it shouldn’t be ‘I’m from this place…”
Or ‘I’m from those memories and those experiences…’
It should me more:
‘I am ACMA!’
‘You are ACMA!’
‘We are ACMA!’

So we better take care of ACMA
At our current building and its future home,
Filling it with love, admiration, and the respect it deserves.”

Better perspective, and from a student who will herself never take a class in the new building, cannot be imagined.

Lauren Camou spoke next. The only student of the three who will graduate from the new campus, she looked forward to the changes to come. She said:

I have been here since sixth grade and will be the second class to graduate in the new building. ACMA has been a very welcoming and safe environment for me and I couldn’t be happier to be here for the seven years I get. I love all of the staff and all the students I see everyday. 

Where we are standing now, was our school. This building that is no longer here was a big part of us. The one hallway that kept us all so close, united us. The Tom Marsh, the Batcave, the different class murals, and even the hidden parts of the building that most students never see kept our history in the walls of this building quite literally. 

And although we were able to take the class murals with us, the building is gone. But we’re still the same. We still help one another and spread kindness everywhere we can, just in a bigger and temporary building. In two years, we’ll be here again, in our new space. 

We’ll still be ACMA, of course, and we’ll still support each other, because that’s just who we are, and that won’t change.”

Such wisdom in youth is the reason I’m so optimistic about the future of our school and our world.

Annika McNair finished the set, beginning her speech with a well chosen quotation from Tolkien.

“Go back?” he thought. “No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!” So up he got, and trotted along with his little sword held in front of him and one hand feeling the wall, and his heart all a patter and a pitter.” That’s a quote about Bilbo from JRR Tolkien’s The Hobbit. I share this quote because it largely describes ACMA students on their approach to the temporary school.

We’re still a little heartbroken from leaving the old one. We’ll never be able to see the same halls, or the trees outside the windows of class, but I think in the last week or two we’ve had a little bit of a redeeming realization. ACMA isn’t a building; it’s a home we carry with us, and maybe it’s the people we meet or the passion of arts that we share, but we’ve created a sense of family that extends beyond the sentimentality of a building.

Even so, when we gathered to watch the live feed of the demolition it wasn’t hard to miss the loss we all felt. We were in a place that allowed us to love and so we learned to love the place. Today we are gathered to celebrate what is going to be the new ACMA building. When it is finished and we move again, trotting along like little Bilbo, I’ve no doubt the new building will provide the same space to keep our home.”

The rest of us adults who spoke did our best to commemorate this momentous occasion. We’ve all been on the planet long enough to know that days like this are rarer than we’d like, and that having something so grand to look forward to is a treasure beyond measure. Some of us also know how important this is for ACMA; a groundbreaking on a building like this could scarcely be imagined in the early years of Arts & Communication, and I’ll suggest that a few of the tears in the audience were in honor of the journey our little art school has taken in the past (almost) thirty years.

But while we adults were earnest and articulate, I know that what people will remember from the day is the words of the kids. As they should.

Because, as I mentioned in my brief remarks, we are not building this school for any of the adults at the podium. ACMA is for the kids, the dreamers, the artists, the future.

everyone

If you missed Saturday’s soiree, you can find a video of it here!