Wendall Horton Literacy Autobiography Ms.

Rand 25 September 2013 A Tale of Three Schools Jack Britt consists of four square wings with one wing attached to each corner of a square atrium. After gorging myself with synthetic meat and artificial preservatives, I left the atrium and headed towards B-100 hall at the front of the building. In that hall, the arts were hidden among the gray lockers, walls, and floors. Like most days, I took a quick sip at the water fountain and discretely swished the food out of my teeth. The entire mass of students around me funneled through the single set of double doors as we shuffled our way into B-100 hall. I took an immediate right to break out of the crowd since most people continued straight. After one more turn to the left, I saw my art classroom hidden to the right amongst the sea of lockers. Directly across from the classroom, my art teacher, Mr. Middleton, sat hunched over in a one-piece desk working diligently on a watercolor. In his composition, he depicted the silhouettes and subtle details of approaching zombies with a skillful use of grayscale. Upon entering the classroom, the din of underclassmen chatting wildly finishing stories and conversations from lunch filled the room. I sorted through the papers on the drying rack to admire the interpretive color wheel I completed earlier that week. The project lasted almost two and a half weeks, but I felt such pride holding the final product in my hands. I stood up and wondered towards my desk surveying the tables of art supplies and thinking of the next projects Mr. Middleton wanted our class to do. An abstract, monochromatic acrylic sounds

interesting, but what about the 3-D perspective study? I talked with Hope, a freshman girl who sat next to me, and considered the creative possibilities of both, but I only had enough time to do one. After cycling the choices in my mind, I decided to go ask Mr. Middletons opinion on the matter. Hey, Mr. Middleton. I know we have the two acrylic projects, but my color wheel took a lot longer than I had expected, so I dont think theres any way I can do both of them before we get to sculptures. Yeah, youre right. Theres not enough time for both. Well, I dont really know which one I should do. Wendall, I know you can paint a bunch of purple squares on a piece of paper. Its not hard. Actually, you know what? You dont have to do either of those assignments I want you to do a watercolor. Heh, a watercolor? Yeah, a watercolor. Pick one of the pictures from the portfolio you made. Try to find one with water or a landscape of some type. Umm, Ive never done a watercolor before. Well, I have, but not as an actual project. Well then. Start with the simple stuff. If you want a dark, rich color use less water in your brush or add black. If you want a fainter color, use more water in your brush. You have to experiment with your colors, so start by grabbing some watercolors and some brushes and just play around. Try different colors or amounts of water. You have to feel through the brush.

Ok, but inside I was not okay. Painting a watercolor seems fascinating, but what if it turns out terribly? What if I spend all my time on an ugly watercolor? What if I actually cant do a watercolor? I turned around and walked back to my pod. Hope looked up at me, and I returned her glance with a mock-horrified face. What did Mr. Middleton say? He wants me to do a watercolor, but I have no idea what Im doing. Hahaha, good luck with that. Ha, thanks. I grabbed my sketch book, a cup of water, a tray of watercolors, and a bunch of paper towels, as Mr. Middleton instructed me, and sat there. I stared at the off-white rectangle in front of me. WATERCOLOR!?! What if it looks like crap? Overcoming my uncertainty, I did exactly as he told me and started messing around. I mixed colors, tried drying the brush a little, and covered my paper in blotches of color. It looked like nothing, but it was the first step to feeling through the brush. After I filled the page, my attention switched to choosing which photograph to recreate. My portfolio consisted of 20 photos ranging from a baby, to buildings, to landscapes, to animals, to people. Hmmmm. A landscape involving waterThis beach house has water in the background. No, theres too much blue. Oh, this one has the sunset shining on a mountain and a small farm. Its so beautiful, but I dont know if I can paint mountains. Well, how about this one. The rollercoaster is about to dive down a mountain. Its a gorgeous landscape and there are so many trees. Theres no water, but that doesnt matter too much. No, wait, I forgot about

this picture. The buildings are so geometrical and the blue looks so cool accented by the orange. Theres so many colors and dimensions. And theres water! Ugh, Im stuck. Do I do the really beautiful landscape or the vibrant cityscape? I love details, and the sea of trees wont let me focus on the details, it would be exhausting if I did. Ill do the cityscape. It s geometrical, and exact. I like that, this one should be fun to do. With my ruler in hand, I set out to begin sketching my watercolor. The photo was approximately the same ratio as my piece of paper, so I tried to create a conversion factor between the two papers, but it only worked for determining lengths. Because the photo looked at the cluster of buildings from an offset angle, the faces of the buildings were slanted. I used reference points to estimate the degree of angles and then connected the lines. By the fifth or sixth class period of working on my sketch, I thought I would never finish it. It seemed like I was slaving over every detail of the photo, but to me, my watercolor would be incomplete if I didnt include most every detail. With the sketch complete, I could finally move onto painting. In working with the watercolors, I tried to avoid mixing colors in the tray, so I used a separate pallet to mix watercolors. I started in the top corner of the farthest left building. Looking at the color of that corner, I rubbed my wet brush in the blue pigment and swiped it on my experimentation page. It was too bright and didnt have enough of a green hue. I grabbed some green and mixed it in the pallet. It was blue-green, but still too bright, so I added black. When the next swipe turned out black, I realized I added too much black. To fix that, I added more blue, a little green, and more water. When the color in my pallet matched the color in the corner, I carefully painted the respective area within the lines of my sketch. As the hue of the

building transitioned between shades of blue and green, I continued this pattern of experimentation and color mixing. After five or six 90-minute classes, I finally finishing the first of three buildings, and I was exhausted. I rationalized that it kind of looked cool unfinished. Having the watercolor surrounded by a pencil sketch sort of accented the one building. My teacher did nt agree. He didnt tell me to finish the piece, he said he wanted me to finish it, so I set my mind on the final product. Just imagine what this will look like when its finished. Go for it, dont give up. As I continued painting my picture, other students occasionally looked around the room at other peoples projects, and when they came by mine they would exclaim, What?! That looks amazing! Hey come look at this. One day, I had at least ten people huddled around my desk as I worked on my painting. I never realized how much potential I had as an artist. After working for weeks in class and attending art club after school a few times, I finished painting my watercolor. On the day I walked up to his desk to show him my watercolor, I could not keep myself from smiling; I felt so proud of my accomplishment. I received so much feedback from my peers and finally I got to hear his reaction. Wow, Wendall. Now that is a watercolor. Let me see it closer. I gladly passed him my watercolor. I love how well you mixed all the shades of blues and greens. And the level of detail is amazing. This is an award winning piece. If only you would be here next year, I would put this in the County Art Competition. The process of including all the details and colors was extensive, but the result was immensely rewarding. In April, Jack Britt High School presented a student artwork exhibition. All my projects from the year were included: my pencil sketch of Lucille Ball, aboriginal styled crayon resist

piece, interpretive color wheel, expressive self-portrait, and watercolor. My expressive selfportrait won first place for multimedia, and I won Artist of the Year for Beginning Art.

Separate from the surrounding woods and farmland, he crouched on his angular lot and pondered the pursuit of knowledge. His chiseled, angular face peered intently into the far reaches of pine trees in the distance. A mysterious translucent pyramid adorned his head; fittingly reminiscent of the mysterious innovations of ancient Egyptians. With his astute stance and solid foundation, he became a beacon of academics and knowledge. While the sun dropped behind him, he continued to peer into the darkness of a fresh night. As I observed him, I longed to discover the source of his understanding and insight. What is at the core of Jack Britt High School? What is it like on the inside? What fuels this ambiance of academic achievement I wondered. Two years after attending Washington-Lee, I approached a brick faade and six sets of purple double doors; a gateway into the mysterious core of Jack Britt. Upon opening the second set of doors, I discovered a disheartening answer to my questions. I walked into a vast expanse of gray: gray staircases, gray railings, gray walls, gray acoustic tiles, gray floor tiles, dark gray accent floor tiles, and twenty-eight massive gray columns. The monotony surrounding me overpowered any sense of creativity or freedom though they existed in limited amounts. As my eyes strayed skyward into the pyramidal, translucent atrium, I saw a beautiful arrangement of clouds framed by a vibrant blue sky. This reminded me to search for or introduce creativity in Jack Britt.

Attending the Jack Britt Student Penitentiary was a bitter-sweet experience. The administration kept a tight rein on student activities and behavior during the school day and in extra-curriculars. Ms. Garrison, our principal, was the driving force behind the administration s strictness. In order to change your schedule you were required to fill out a change of course slip and then schedule a meeting with Ms. Garrison. She would then decide if you were allowed to change classes. If you enrolled for an Advanced Placement class and wanted to withdraw from it, you would be placed in the regular equivalent, not the honors section (even for high achieving students). Upon entering the school each morning, assistant principals were strategically posted throughout the atrium to monitor conduct, but the most they ever did was report students for dress code violations. During passing periods, one assistant principal stood on each landing of the two staircases in the atrium and kept a hawk-eye watch for dress-code violators. In the classroom, much of the education depended on the teacher, but the pressure from Ms. Garrison on the teachers was obvious and often mentioned publically. So much emphasis was placed on presenting facts and ensuring that students perform well on classroom and standardized tests. Jack Britt taught me how to submit to authority, follow rules, and accepted the stifling of creativity in classrooms and organizations. Many say, Jack Britt is the best school in Cumberland County. Look at their test scores! Some of the highest in the state. Ms. Garrison is doing great things at Jack Britt. Their folly in such conclusions is that many have not attended Jack Britt as a student and will never know the truth behind those great things.

Crossing the icy-blue bridge on the border, a man walks steadily home weary from the trials of his past. On his final day as an Army General, he sat upon a shallow hill hidden by the brick houses around him. Looking out over the wandering Missouri River, he reflects upon the nostalgia of his past: the joys of victory, the regret of retreat, the sorrow of casualties, and the celebration of returning home. His face streaks with blue stains as tears well-up and fall from his eyes. Tears of memory and a desire to return to duty transform into tears of hope and renewed strength as the sun sets on his past and rises upon his future. Returning home to Tenth Street, he hangs his blue wool uniform for the last time. The gray buckles clank against the black leather straps as he closes the pure white door to his past; however, the door is not locked and the uniform is not forever concealed. With the signs of an eventful past and the renewed hope for a fulfilling future, the retired Army General with the steadfast eyes and stone-gray beard sits on Tenth Street as Leavenworth High School. The summer I moved to Leavenworth, Kansas, the county was finalizing the interior and exterior renovations, the new academic wing, a brand-new stadium, and the retrofitting of the entire high school with air conditioning for the first time. While there were many new elements in the school, the county maintained some of the historical and original design features and materials. The school possessed a comforting, antique charm while offering modern amenities. The atmosphere among the students and faculty was very familial and comfortable. Academically, the year I spent in Leavenworth was not very challenging, but I built great relationships with my teachers and friends. Because I was not quite as pressured with homework or assignments, I felt comfortable trying new extra-curricular activities. In every

group I joined, there was an instant sense of unity through common interests, goals, and experiences. I involved myself in cross country, track (long-distance and pole vault), theater, quiz bowl, marching band, Fellowship of Christian Athletes, and National Honor Society. Throughout my classes and extra-curriculars, I noticed a common thread with my peers and teachers; they all showed genuine interest. There was a familial love and concern for each other. Teachers and coaches were approachable to ask questions yet controlled their classrooms appropriately to maintain focus and forward learning. While I may not have been academically challenged, Leavenworth High School was a refreshing period of p ersonal growth and growth within a caring community.

As I drove around a corner and the mornings mist hovered over the ground, her magnificent figure gradually appeared from behind a cluster of townhouses and trees. Towering over Ballston with her stout figure, she exemplified the grandeur of education, expression, and emotion. She wore distinct bands of deep brown, burnt orange, and rich cream. In the morning sunrise, the silver spires shimmered upon her head reflecting the pinks, blues, and oranges of the sky. I walked under the spires of silver and through her towering doors, and to my contentment, her beauty extended beyond her exterior. The main hall of WashingtonLee High School was flanked by silver beams, and the floor was designed with a random assortment of blue and yellow tiles. A glass wall to my right revealed the cafeteria and commons. Although the halls were empty that morning, this new environment exuded the excitement and energy of life. From the building alone, I foresaw the beginnings of a wonderful

freshman year at Washington-Lee filled with creativity, innovation, and unconventional thinking. Before entering my freshman year, my 8th grade Geography teacher recommended me to enroll in AP World History; this was the first time an Arlington County high school offered an AP course to freshman, and I was a part of a test group to see how well freshmen could perform or handle an AP level course. Though one of the most challenging courses I have taken, it was also the most creative and engaging. We had a W-day and L-day schedule so I attended AP World two or three times each week. Outside of the classroom, we were advised to read each chapter of the textbook, one chapter each week, and complete the extensive reading guide provided by our teacher. At least once each week, we wrote an essay or an equivalent assignment during class; she had high expectations of us as students. The other days of class were filled with a wonderful assortment of educational activities. We would engage in classroom discussions over out-of-class textbook readings, we categorized information onto large post-it notes around the room, we host four coffeehouses where each student brought food and drink and we led our own discussion, we rewrote the lyrics to a song to reflect the Mongolian era, and our final exam was a six or seven segment group video project. In English, we created skits, acted out our own variations or adaptations of dramas, we created a video project based on a Greek myth, and completed art projects to reflect literary devices in literature. The teachers at Washington-Lee understood the balance of left-brain and right-brain oriented education. While completing artistic activities, students still learned the information and main concepts, and we still had tests to ensure we could re-communicate what we were

learning at the time. Beyond the classroom, the administration took a Laissez-faire approach to their leadership. They were actively and positively involved in student activities and events. They were approachable and enjoyed listening to the concerns of students. They sat at a table in the cafeteria so students always had a place to find them. At Washington-Lee, I experienced a profound manner of learning and education; where freedom of thought was encouraged differences in opinion were respected, but ultimately the combining of various backgrounds, experiences, and thoughts expanded the depth and breadth of learning.

At a young age, I formed various preconceptions of what constituted art; Realistic or elaborate painting and drawings displayed in international galleries. Throughout elementary school in art class, I created tangible items with my hands such as clay or beads, and I found greater personal success in those projects than in drawing or painting. I continued attempting drawing and painting, but I spent a lot more time creating things with my hands. I enjoyed these projects, and drifted away from the idea of myself as an artist. Im not artistic, Im creative. Mr. Middleton dramatically changed my perception of myself as an artist. Participating in his assignments introduced me to new art forms and media of expression as I exited my comfort zone of typography and simple doodles. We created photorealistic graphite portraits and interpretive color studies. I never afforded myself much credit as an artist, but Mr. Middleton transformed my opinions when he said he wanted me to finish the painting. His

genuine desire for my successful completion the watercolor showed me that I was a valuable artist and reassured my confidence to finish the composition. The experience of finalizing a beautifully executed watercolor was a landmark moment in my personal life and pursuit for artistic self-expression. Reflecting upon the watercolor, I was astounded that I experienced such an artistically transformative event at Jack Britt. The gray walls, floors, and lockers seemed like the antithesis of an environment where arts thrive, but I sought out every chance and opportunity for creative expression. With that goal, attending Jack Britt was an immense challenge. Participating in band and art acted as unique avenues of expression, but two arts courses cannot counteract the other six hours spent in various classes and between classes constantly under the administrations surveillance. The design and space of Jack Britt greatly affected the atmosphere of the school, and my resulting perception of the education was grossly more negative than Washington-Lee and Leavenworth. The design and space of a school both influences the atmosphere among the students and faculty and reflects the intentions of the administration. Jack Britt is described as a prison by many students and visitors either from personal experience or via word of mouth. They are not far off in their description. The atrium is an awe-inspiring and delicately suspended pyramidal structure, but its central placement in the school and its use by the administration transforms it into an all-seeing eye much like that of a prison. As a student, there was an uneasiness in the hallways because the administrators seemed to walk around searching for student conduct violations. The administration super-imposed rules and regulation on clothing and conduct as if the students were in capable of thinking independently. In order to decrease

classroom distractions, classrooms were painted just as monochromatic as the rest of the school. The effect on the students was a combination of disinterest and lethargy. Leavenworth High School embraced its rich history, but it was also in a period of recreation. Prior to attending Leavenworth, I was told that it was incredibly ghetto and the academics were horrible. That was an old stereotype of the school. When I attended, the building just received a series of vital renovations and additions that summer. The main hall of the school was rich with texture from the brick walls and paved floor. The hallways had low ceilings because of the addition of air conditioning, but the tightness of the halls added a level of comfort and a sense of community. I was intrigued by the subtle hints of the schools past: the speckled concrete floor on the stairs, the harvest gold paint inside the lockers, and the radiators along the classroom wall. Students felt comfortable talking with administrators because they spent time engaging the students in conversation. The interior and exterior of the building were not in pristine condition, but the coziness of the space accentuated the familial connection between the students, faculty, and staff. The design of the newly constructed, multimillion dollar Washington-Lee High School functioned greatly as a center for academic achievement, innovative learning, personal growth, creative development, and independent thinking. Nearly every inch of the walls, floors, and ceilings were covered in variety of colors and textures. They filled the halls and classrooms with life and stimulated students visual receptors. The administration acknowledged that a vital part of student development into adulthood is independent thinking. At Washington-Lee there was a general understanding of what behavior was acceptable. The administration allowed students to decide their action within a confine of socially acceptable behavior. They did not dictate

dress or conduct; instead, Washington-Lee taught students how to behave and dress for situations without direct punishment. Because the administration was less focused on correcting behaviors, they were better able to build relationships with students and promote academic success. In all three situations, the design of the building either determined or reflected the academic atmosphere of the school. At Jack Britt, students were not treated as independently thinking individuals. Jack Britt amassed all students into a body of people unable to control their behaviors or make proper decision on their own; we were barely treated as human. At Leavenworth, each student was respected and valued as a part of the larger student body. The familial values united the student body in academics, athletics, and community service. Washington-Lee encouraged students to make decisions within societal constraints while allowing freedom of expression.

APPENDIX

Watercolor Sketch

Final Watercolor

Jack Britt High School

Leavenworth High School

Washington-Lee High School