Last Thursday, the Sophomore Honorary put on a lecture given by Wash. U. Architecture Professor Bob Hansman. Bob has been working at Wash. U. since 1990 and started an organization called City Faces in the early 1990s that is almost completely funded by the campus event “Mr. Wash. U.” The organization works out of a former food pantry in the Clinton-Peabody projects on 14th street in downtown St. Louis and gives young children an opportunity to get out of their homes and off the streets to enjoy inspirational company provided by Bob, Wash. U. students and past members of City Faces while working on self-portraits and other art projects. Bob’s speech was one of the most intense rhetorical roller coasters I have ever been on in my life. Armed simply with two slide projectors and his own unbelievable life experiences, in two hours he opened my eyes to the harsh reality of the world outside of the Wash. U. bubble.
In a whirlwind of life stories that focus on almost 40 children, Bob communicates the urgency of racial and social issues in the city of St. Louis. After explaining the founding of the organization, which was created in an attempt to purge himself from guilt for leaving behind the rapidly decaying area of St. Louis known as “McRee-Town,” Bob took on the challenge to start a summer art program for the children facing the torrential adversity of living in the projects. As each slide clicked, more young faces were introduced and pieces of their amazing art showed unbelievable talent. However, midway through the presentation, almost like a based-on-a-true-story Hollywood heartstring-tugger, everything came crashing down. Soon each click of the projector showed another child who was dead because of illness or violence. A life spent behind bars due to grand theft auto, assault, drug dealing or worse; the stakes rose higher and higher. Painful anecdotes about how these children, living 10 miles away from the most wealthy institution in the state of Missouri, cannot afford to eat everyday; how they are selling drugs on the streets before puberty; and how this one man has done everything but martyred himself in order to try and help these children.
Finally, the second to last slide showed a piece of art done by a nine-year-old who came into City Faces. At the bottom of the paper was her face, with a line splitting the page in two. On the left side her face was colored in with a purple crayon to show tears running down her face. Above her head were dilapidated buildings, guns firing and a man dying on the street with blood pouring out of his chest; the caption read: “This is life for us now.” On the right side of the picture, her face was colored brown with a smile, the sun radiating above her head and a young girl jumping rope; the caption read: “This is what we want but don’t know how to make it that way.”
With his final click, the slides switched. On the left side was a picture of the 14th street projects; on the right side was a picture of Brookings Hall here at Wash. U. A gasp slipped my lips and, I’m not exaggerating, my breathing stopped. Pictures say a thousand words-this picture showed my whole life. Enjoying the jumprope sunshine of my privileged life, perpetuated by my attendance here at Wash. U.–I, like almost every Wash. U. student, has never known what life is like on the left side of that picture. The least I can do is try and give back through bettering myself, educating myself on the real issues and sharing that knowledge with others.
From my count, there were about 55 people in Graham Chapel to hear the talk. It is easy to say we are too busy, or we are too hungover, or we are too disinterested to attend a lecture about the truth of St. Louis, or do other activities to actively give back to the community. But the reality is that St. Louis is a part of our lives; it is a part of our institution. It is part of the official name of our school and it is a part of the school’s identity whether the administrators, the faculty, or we, the students, like it or not. It is hard to remove ourselves from our comfort zone; it is terrifying and painful. But that does not mean it is not worth the risk. One learns the most whenever he or she is uncomfortable. This is a lesson that time has taught me again and again. I do not write this editorial to criticize. College is four years of soul searching and transience buffered by $40,000 dollars of tuition-I understand that. But if we are really here to better educate ourselves, there is an amazing opportunity that cannot be quantified by credits, or GPA, or standardized test scores. It is the environment that surrounds us; it is the city of St. Louis. I encourage everyone who reads this to speak to faculty members, other students, campus workers, and owners and employees of local businesses to try and better understand the city that, whether or not we like it, we are a part of, and is a part of us.
Michael is a senior in Arts & Sciences. He can be reached via e-mail at [email protected].