everyday heroes

Art teacher brings compassion to students on Riker’s Island

by Ellie Spielberg

Nov 26, 2009 2:19 PM

The tiger, the Buddha and the teacher

“The tiger in my painting has nothing to do with aggression,” says Anthony, a high school student in art class on Rikers Island. “I didn’t draw no people around it. You draw people around a tiger and everyone’ll think, ‘aggressive.’ But tiger is really just about eating and taking care of his family.”

The tiger in Chris’ painting has green eyes. “Green’s a good color. Green can be bad, too,” he says.

Khalif, who says the color green is how he feels when he looks into the sky, would like to pursue a career in painting.

“I’d rather be home than here, but school is good. I’ve learned how to put my feelings on a piece of paper. Miss J is a very nice art teacher. She’s very intelligent and she teaches us a lot about paintings,” Khalif says.

To visit Elizabeth Josephson’s classroom at Island Academy, you go through the same routine as someone visiting an inmate on Rikers.

Whether crossing the bridge to the island by car or on the Q100 bus, there are a lot of checkpoints to go through.

Next is a ride on a Rikers bus, in this case the Number 1, which stops at the Eric M. Taylor Center, known as EMTC, where adolescent and adult males are housed and the academy has a site.

The driver of this old school bus painted white is blaring rap from the speakers as he barrels along and drops people off at their destinations on this 413-acre island of 10 jails that hosts an average of 14,000 incarcerated souls doing their time and praying for parole. You hope you never have to make this journey again.

It’s a journey that Josephson has been making every school day for the past 10 years.

Josephson left teaching at college and private school for this public school, working with teenagers serving up to a year for crimes like drug possession, dealing, gang activity, assault and theft.

It is work that she loves.

At EMTC there are two more checkpoints and a metal detector to go through before walking down a network of hallways, escorted by four correction officers. Nine electronic gates clang loudly as they open and shut.

Then comes a trek through a long underground passage “called the ‘the tunnel of love,’” Chapter Leader Don Murphy says. “It used to be dark with leaking pipes, and teachers would encounter an adult inmate wandering around from time to time. Then the UFT got it fixed.”

The tunnel runs deep in the bowels of the jail building and finally comes up into the school corridor, which leads to the art room, where a small picture of the Dalai Lama is hanging in a corner.

It’s heartening that someone has thought to hang up a picture of the world’s ambassador of compassion.

That someone, it turns out, is Josephson.

“I was drawn to this job because I intuited that students in jail were bound to be isolated with their suffering, would be in a state of self-reflection, and that as a teacher I could really communicate with them,” Josephson said in an interview with the New York Teacher.

What keeps her at the academy is “how interesting the students are. They are some of the most intelligent people I’ve been around. They’re wise. Whether it’s about art or current events, I am always very curious about their perception. That’s how much respect I have for them.”

Now, in her classroom, Josephson is going around from one student to the other discussing their work.

“Beautiful contrast,” she says to Christopher, pointing to a white-and-blue dragon.

Zequan’s picture “is abstract with a lot of hidden shapes,” he explains. “The hexagons are the normal crowd. I painted them gray-black to show how dull they are. What got me here was friends who had the thug image and getting everyone’s approval.”

Zequan likes standing out in a crowd, wants to go to college, appreciates what he is learning but doesn’t want to be at Rikers again.

“My uncle told me the diamond is not polished without friction, nor the man perfected without trials,” he says. “I think of my time here as one of the trials I had to go through to become the man I really want to be.”

At another table, Eligidio, who wants to become a sanitation worker for the good pay, is “trying to master horse anatomy,” he says. “I love horses. I love the colors; I like riding them. The first time I rode a horse it was in Puerto Rico on the beach.”

And how will he create a life where he’s free to ride horses on the beach?

“By ignoring other people,” he says.

Josephson, who looks like a figure painted by her students in her bright colors and matching green bangle that proves to be a roll of tape kept handy, continues her rounds.

She asks students to beat out the rhythm of the form and then the content of their paintings, an exercise they take to naturally.

“Guys, I have an idea,” she calls out later. “Let’s start cleaning up and hang up the work and talk about it a little bit.”

As students critique each other’s work, they show their newfound knowledge of color and composition.

“The greatest artwork in the world is probably never finished,” one boy says in support of another who feels his painting is missing something.

At dismissal time the young men, in their neat khaki uniforms, line up for a head count.

An artist whose work has been shown at Brooklyn’s Sideshow Gallery, among other places, Josephson says that in the beginning students copy outlines from a book, blow them up to poster size, and lay on color in a graphic way while learning about color and composition.

“They’re making something that looks impressive and professional to them. Adolescent boys idealize realism, drawings that are like a photograph,” she said.

As they gain confidence she moves with them into the “more daring task of losing given imagery and mastering imagery of their own.”

Of the classes’ poster-size realistic works, the tiger seems to rule.

“Like the tiger, most of the kids have a very strong sense of family. The tiger will be aggressive when his survival is threatened. For the boys, that survival can be an identity issue relating to being part of a gang,” Josephson says.

A practitioner of Tibetan Buddism for 15 years, she contemplates her students deeply and feels that if it weren’t for being constantly rejuvenated by the teachings and their emphasis on compassion for all beings, then “this would be just a job.”

Josephson, who lives in Manhattan’s Washington Heights, gets up every morning at 3:00, meditates until 4:30, and swims at a health club at 5:30 near an F train station. She gets off the train at 21st Street in Queens, where she catches the Q100.

On the bus ride to Rikers she practices a form of meditation that focuses on emotional and physical health for oneself and others.

Always, on the bus, “I do this meditation just for the boys. That is when I start working 100 percent for them.”

What does she wish for them?

That each gets exactly what he needs at this point in his transition — whether it be a trade, a college education, a support program — to become happy and successful.

That Eligidio, for one, will get a good job and take vacations riding a horse on the beach.

That Zequan will become the man he really wants to be.