Emmanuel brought urban culture into the classroom like no other student had ever done before (or since). He was a tall, thin, handsome, black boy who entered the school late in September 2005. The language of the street flowed effortlessly from his lips; ‘bling,’ ‘grille,’ and ‘Bentley’ were embedded in the discourse so naturally. His glib manner belied his age of ten years. And though he was new to the school, he fit in with the badass boys in his fifth-grade class – they idolized him, always vying for his attention. Students at the elementary level often imitate an urban, ‘ghetto’ style of dress (e.g., loose, baggy trousers hanging past the hips, oversized tee shirts, do-rags hanging from pants pockets) and ‘gangsta’-like gestures (e.g., stylized movements of the head, arms, and hands with a distinctive swagger). However, none has ever been able to keep up the persona continuously. At times during the school day, the façade tends to crumble revealing a vulnerable child underneath. Emmanuel, on the other hand, was always ‘cool.’ I never detected so much as a crack in Emmanuel’s smooth, street-wise façade – until December of that year.
In December I described the next ensembles that I would be offering during the second semester: West African Drumming/Dancing and the Javanese Gamelan/Wayang Kulit (‘wayang kulit’ are shadow puppets), explaining that students could apply for one job in either ensemble. Emmanuel told me that he wanted to apply for the wayang kulit because he had a puppet at home he had made in his previous school. His classmates snickered at his remark, which did not seem to outwardly bother him. My initial thought was that he was simply being funny, trying to get attention in class. However, during the second week of December, he brought a well-crafted stick puppet to music class to show me. It had the head of a beagle dog made from papier mâché, painted white with a glossy sheen. The ears were made of black cloth, which hung evenly on either side of the head. The eyes and nose were painted black. A miniature blue and white football jersey partially hid the wooden dowel attached to the base of the head. I asked him how he had made it, and he described the process in great detail. The only part of the puppet not made by Emmanuel was the football jersey – the teacher had given him that already made. He reasoned that he would be good in the ensemble since he knew how to make puppets, albeit a different type puppet than those used in wayang kulit. What struck me was the pride Emmanuel seemed to show in his hand-made puppet and how carefully he handled it. His manner was out of character from his usual street-wise, ‘cool’ demeanor. I was intrigued by the contradiction, the juxtaposition of two drastically discordant images embodied in this one child. I knew then I had to choose him for participation in the ensemble – I was too curious not.
Emmanuel applied for the position of composer/musician rather than puppeteer but I never questioned his decision. As I got to know him, I observed a twist to his attention-getting behavior: he showed off with ‘goofy’ behavior rather than with his ability. For instance, during a video-recorded rehearsal in March, I told the students to choose an instrument/part they would like to play. The following is a description of a segment from that rehearsal:
Emmanuel chooses the Noah bells (various sized metal cow bells hand forged in India). Considering the fact that he is able to closely inspect his fingernails and look around the room whilst playing the piece, I surmise that the Noah bells part is much too easy for him. I suggest he try learning the ‘gender’ (melody) part on one of the xylophones instead. He agrees and begins to carry a chair to an alto xylophone already placed on the rug. I tell him to sit on the rug like everyone else – sitting higher than the level of the instrument will not allow him to play in proper form and will eventually hurt his back leaning over the instrument.
“But my knees will get ashy,” he complains, still holding the chair in the air. I suggest he sit cross-legged on the rug. He slowly looks at the back of his legs.
“My thighs will get ashy.”
I remind him that he had just been sitting cross-legged on the rug to play the Noah bells, an ‘ashy’-free incident. He approaches the instrument, crosses his ankles, and half squats behind the instrument. Fifteen seconds pass by as he remains in that crouched position. The other students look at him and giggle. The musicians start to play the ‘gender’ line together with Emmanuel still in his crouched position.
Again, he interrupts, “Where are the notes, yo?”
He cannot locate the correct notes on the xylophone. Another student shows him and Emmanuel replies, shaking his head, “This instrument is messed up.”
He then moves to another xylophone, also on the rug, and poises over the instrument in a crouched position. The musicians begin again. Despite the interruptions and goofiness, he catches on quickly and is even able to play the doubling of the ‘saron peking’ part which is far more difficult than the plain ‘gender’ line.
McGuffey and Rich claim that a boy’s ability to attract attention to himself enables him to maintain his status in a group: “The recognition a boy receives from his public performance of masculinity allows him to maintain his high status and/or increase his rank in the hierarchy” (p. 613). Emmanuel’s attention-seeking behavior was geared toward the nonsense or ‘goofiness’ (e.g., playing in a crouched position for nearly five minutes so as not to get his legs ‘ashy’ on the rug), not in drawing attention to his ability (e.g., being able to quickly learn the new and more difficult ‘saron peking’ part). Such attention-seeking silliness would be an immediate turn-off for most teachers – we want ‘serious’ students who can focus attention and work hard. Underneath his frivolousness, though, was an ability to catch on quickly. Later that same day during his regularly scheduled music class, Emmanuel was chosen to play a rather difficult blues pattern on the bass xylophone. He worked on the piece, giving it his full attention and was the only student in the class able to play the part. Not once did he draw attention to his accomplishment. Putting foolishness aside and buckling down, that child could play!
The lesson learnt from this episode is that one never knows the hidden potential of each child. Emmanuel’s badass manner and attention-seeking behaviors were a turn-off for me – I didn’t take him seriously when he expressed interest in being a puppeteer. I am sure that, had he not shown me his puppet and treated it so carefully (which potentially could have damaged his status amongst his peers), I would not have accepted him into the ensemble. What a loss that would have been, not only for him but also for me and the other students. His musical ability (yes, even his goofy, time-consuming antics) contributed immensely to our experience in the Javanese Gamelan/Wayang Kulit that semester. Which leads me to wonder about all the students over the years whom I did not choose for ensembles, or who were not allowed to participate by classroom teachers for various reasons. How many missed possibilities have there been? And how many missed possibilities will there continue to be due to limited resources and adults who cannot see the hidden potential in each child?
(1) McGuffey, C.S. & Rich, B.L. (1999). Playing in the gender transgression zone: Race, class, and hegemonic masculinity in middle childhood. Gender and Society, 13 (5), 608-627.
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