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HIP-HOP IN EDUCATION
 
Young b-boys and b-girls school the rules
 
By Dave Kim
San Francisco Bay Guardian 08.11.04
 
In the basement of a bright red, converted Mission District warehouse, a space just large enough to fit a pair of Technics turntables, an MPC-2000 sampler, two computer workstations, and a few worn but comfortable sofas, three young men sit mesmerized and huddled at their computers. Juan Guillermo, Darrick Chan, and "Frisko" Eddy Ortega, all aspiring producers in their teens or early twenties, are hard at work on an independent hip-hop album. Their homemade, bass-heavy beats throb from a speaker in the corner. The makeshift studio hardly resembles a typical classroom environment; nevertheless, more than 80 young adults from inner-city high schools have learned invaluable skills ­ including musicianship and entrepreneurial training ­ and achieved a sense of accomplishment in this room since November 2000.

The studio is home to the DJ Project, one of many Bay Area organizations that uses hip-hop culture to reach out to urban youths. Social workers and educators are beginning to realize that what was once dismissed as a pollutant to young minds is now an effective tool for youth empowerment. Channeling hip-hop's dominant influence on mainstream media and culture, nonprofits like the DJ Project use graffiti art, rap music, turntablism, and break dancing to teach job readiness and creative expression.

"Because of hip-hop's tremendous appeal among young people, it's a good platform for teaching them skills they might not otherwise learn," DJ Project director Jeff Feinman says. These skills include basic business training, project follow-through, problem solving, and the social skills necessary for meeting goals, team building, marketing, and sales. All of these elements are necessary to create and then promote an independently produced hip-hop CD. Eight to 10 teens from San Francisco schools meet several times a week in the basement studio to craft beats, write raps about city living, and record tracks. It's the group's responsibility to promote their product to a picky, often skeptical audience.

But more often than not, the business side of things isn't what young rappers and beatnuts have in mind. "Most kids who start out in the program don't really understand the business side of the music industry," Feinman explains. "They just wanna get on the mic. We try to professionalize them, explain that the ones who actually build careers are those who have a hard work ethic."

The participants organize release parties, brainstorm sales ideas, and pitch their album to local music stores. A street market committee gets the word out to hip-hop fans at high schools and youth hangouts. But sometimes a lesson in work ethics simply means stuffing a backpack full of CDs and selling them to passersby, ego in pocket. "We call it 'applied entrepreneurship'," Feinman says smiling.

The group doesn't always make enough profit on CD sales to cover costs, but the instructors and participants are proud to share something they've created. It's not every day that youths from neighborhoods like the Outer Mission and Hunters Point get free access to sound equipment and recording software. For some, the DJ Project is their only outlet for creative expression.

Participants are encouraged to write raps that enlighten audiences about what really goes on in an urban teen's life. As demonstrated by countless MCs, from Slick Rick to Dead Prez, rap is the hip-hop generation's mode of storytelling, and many students uninterested in more conventional literary forms have embraced it as their primary autobiographical and poetic outlet. At a recent Yerba Buena Center for the Arts show, some young MCs rapped in Spanish, addressing problems like gang activity and violence in their neighborhoods. Young Dice, a high school junior, shares his insider's perspective on urban life through his music.

"I rap about what happens in the streets," he explains after the show. He's surprisingly soft-spoken for a guy who was just onstage spitting lengthy rhymes. Dice plans to continue participating in the DJ Project, but when asked if he believed he could ever hone his skills in a high school environment, the teen remains doubtful. "Teachers don't like [hip-hop]. They think it's bad. They think what we're saying is wrong."

Dice isn't the only student to express his frustration. Hip-hop culture in education can often be shut down before it's had a chance to gain momentum.

"Hip-hop transcends political and economic boundaries. But it's easier to say we should integrate new forms of artistic expression [into the classroom] than it is to do," says San Francisco Unified School Board president Dr. Dan Kelly, who recently enjoyed a break dancing performance by exchange students from Beijing at an S.F. middle school.

Kelly is optimistic about seeing a stronger hip-hop influence, but when you consider hip-hop's notorious history of advocating violence, denigrating women, and glorifying gangsta-ism, it's no surprise that many educators have only recently discovered there's more to it than AK-47s and copious bags of weed. Some schools occasionally allow break dancing or rap performances during lunchtime functions and assemblies. But making the move into the public school curriculum may still be a bit of an impasse for hip-hop culture. Especially when budget cuts and a bare-bones teaching staff make integrating new modes of education nearly impossible.

Furthermore, not all hip-hop fans are thrilled about seeing their culture institutionalized by the public sector. Rap music, graffiti, break dancing, and turntablism rose from city streets as a counterculture, one that consciously rejected the very principles schools and local governments stood for. Today critics argue that academic and commercial appropriation has plucked hip-hop from its urban roots, separating the art from its gritty subculture. But Feinman disagrees. "People who are blaming educators for that are looking in the wrong direction," he says. "They need to be looking at other issues, like media consolidation stifling independent voices. We're giving youth a chance to learn."

The problem of integrating hip-hop into schools goes deeper than just the culture's reputation. Teachers who would like to experiment with alternative methods of instruction often have trouble maneuvering within the academic frameworks set by their districts. Elena Serrano, director of Oakland's hip-hop-friendly EastSide Arts Alliance, feels the schools in her East Bay neighborhood are painfully inflexible.

"Their big challenge is to even get in some kind of ethnic studies programs, or anything that represents the kids that actually go to the schools," she says. The San Antonio and Fruitvale Districts of Oakland, areas served by the Arts Alliance, are largely populated by Latino, African American, and Southeast Asian communities. "The kids aren't learning anything about each other," Serrano complains. "They're in school learning about Western Europe, but there really isn't a lot of cultural exchange."

Lack of identification with what's taught in the classroom can mean more kids dropping out or turning to the streets for education. Organizations like the DJ Project and Arts Alliance do more than just bring on cultural awareness. They sometimes fulfill the roll of the school for students, helping dropouts earn their GEDs and guiding students toward job opportunities.

"Almost all of our participants have had some kind of interaction with the criminal justice system," Serrano says. "Most of them have pretty much given up on school. What we're providing is almost like an alternative education."

The Arts Alliance offers young Oakland residents free classes in music production, graffiti art, and dance while promoting multiculturalism through community events. In May the group put on its fifth annual Malcolm X Jazz Festival, which featured everything from hip-hop poetry to Korean dance. Members of the organization's production class, "Beats, Flows, and Videos," had the chance to perform for a supportive East Bay crowd.

Bicasso, Arts Alliance head instructor and member of rap collective Living Legends, feels his class could thrive in a school environment as an elective or a performing arts course. Students, he argues, would be much more inclined to succeed if they were focusing on subjects they actually cared about. "A lot of problems would disappear if communities and individuals invested the same amount of time and energy they put into violence and selling drugs into their skills and talents. There'd be more success stories and more positive rebound." Bicasso believes that "it's only a matter of time" before schools find a hip-hop-friendly curriculum that works.

And while English textbooks may not include Nas lyrics just yet, hip-hop culture has been making some progress in public education territory. In New York City last year, educators Martha Diaz and Tricia Wang founded H2Ed, an organization dedicated to advancing hip-hop culture in K-12 education. Last November's H2Ed Summit Connect! conference brought together more than 300 educators, parents, and supporters to discuss the culture's potential in school curriculums.

And here in the Bay Area, we're making our own strides, and the prospects for hip-hop culture are growing. As those who grew up on rap reach their twenties, thirties, and forties, more teachers who identify with the hip-hop generation are standing at K-12 and university chalkboards. Many have written extensively on the culture, or, like Feinman, some are using articles and essays on hip-hop for educational purposes. And advancements in technology have made purchasing music production software and recording equipment more affordable for tight school budgets than ever before.

For youths who look for role models in today's rappers and DJs, hip-hop could be just the vehicle for an artistic, politically conscious, and multicultural education.

"But we don't beat 'em over the head with it," says Feinman, who tries to keep his meetings enjoyable as well as educational. "After all, it's their culture."


For more information on The DJ Project, contact Jeff Feinman at
(415) 487.6714 or visit www.theDJproject.com.
 
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