Category: Mitch Page 2 of 3

McConnell’s article (as well as the video from The Atlantic) gave very good context on things we will later experience first hand and have to discuss in detail. In my opinion, the most relevant detail that was brought up was that of the lack of ‘correctional programming’, i.e. infrastructure that is meant to rehabilitate those who have been incarcerated as opposed to just housing them and sending them to prison. Another important issue is the fact that there are less preventative measures in place than those meant to punish after crimes have been committed, which causes more harm that could be avoided. The existence of only one single juvenile correctional facility, Bon Air, was surprising to me. It seems like there would be more large-scale institutions such as this (that would also work to assist youth, not solely punish them) and I can see how that would cause problems as well.

Question for McConnell:

If the reason for most youth incarceration was boiled down into one cause, what would it be? And, given enough resources, how would this problem be fixed in the easiest way?

I now realize that Writing Our Way Out (or any other work) could not truly communicate the different time periods that the authors wrote about in their stories. No matter the amount of context and detail provided, readers will always have less of an understanding of the circumstances in which the stories take place than the writers themselves. I saw this demonstrated in a lot of the conversations; It was as if we had missed a large part of what seemed to come naturally to Kelvin and (especially) Terrence. No amount of words can communicate any lived experience authentically, the author must choose what to leave out, which is another great realization I had during the discussion.

Naji Mujahid’s grandmother was the only legal guardian that could look after him and his brother throughout his childhood. Both Naji and his brother were brutally abused for the majority of their adolescence. Eventually, Naji would become incarcerated at a young age and adjust to life in prison. He found strength in intellectually bettering people, especially on religious terms, and held his moral superiority highly. Later on, he met someone who was not phased by his implied religious superiority and was eventually given the Qur’an. His reading of this prompted him to change his entire belief system, religious faith (from the ‘five percenters’ to Islam), and name (from James Canaday to Naji Mujahid). After his release from prison, he would gain sympathy for his grandmother who had developed Alzheimer’s in his absence and continue his Islamic faith.

The first few chapters of Writing Our Way Out pleasantly surprised me; I hadn’t seen this idea done anywhere else and I like how it was all put together and executed. The individual writing styles, ideas, thoughts, and ways of life from everyone that contributed to the piece, as well as how Coogan strung them all together with his own writing in between, makes it one of the most interesting pieces I’ve read in quite a while.

The sheer amount of raw perspectives given over the span of a hundred or so pages is incredible, and I’d think it would be hard for a book composed by multiple people all with different backgrounds focused on storytelling not to be. I know that I already see things in a slightly different way now that I’ve been exposed to this work, mostly because I’ve spent more time thinking about the content than I have exclusively reading the book.

I hadn’t ever considered composing a portfolio before taking this class; prior to this blog I wasn’t really sure what a portfolio even was. In my opinion, portfolio keeping seems like such a formal analysis of worth in contrast to works of art, but I know there’s a point to it. I see art as a thoughtful form of self expression rather than any sort of competition or measurable metric where one can be ‘better’ than another at making art. However, I’m not in a position to be able to judge portfolios as a concept, mostly because I’ve never composed one myself, so I’ll stick to writing about what I could possibly gain out of making one.

I’m not much of a writer, so I don’t have an extensive bank of content with which to make a writing portfolio, but I can see myself making a portfolio as a musician. I’d be more inclined to put together a presentation portfolio rather than a process portfolio because I tend to look down on my older works and favor ones I’ve made having had more experience. Although, reflecting on my production workflow is something I’ve seldom considered and may do me some good, since my creative process can be described as inspiration-fueled bursts of chaotic energy. This isn’t to say that any form of workflow is objectively more correct, but some yield more content than others (heuristics over perfectionism, for example).

I was at first opposed to the idea of a portfolio because I want art forms (namely music) to be a creative outlet, not something that can be intruded upon by optimization and performance maximization. For this same reason, I didn’t want to transform my hobby of music into a career in which I would have to cater to the wants of the majority in order to make a living. Despite all this, I still believe some good can come out of making a portfolio, albeit less professionally and more so to self-analyze.

About two months ago, I flew up to Boston with my mom and dad to be a part of the Berklee College of Music (In Boston, not California) EDM Production summer program. Me and my parents spend a few days hitting tourist spots around the city before they dropped me off at check-in for the actual program.

Fast forward a few days, after I moved into a sketchy off-campus dorm and got the gist of what I was supposed to be doing with my time there, me and all 60-something others in the program were divided into groups of six and given a group mentor responsible for keeping us from burning a studio we’d be working in to the ground. Each group had the same task; collaborate to produce one track to be played at the end of the week. To anyone that doesn’t make music, having six people and more than five days to work with sounds like more than enough to make just one song, right? Try agreeing on what kind of story to collaboratively write in a room with five other people.

Over the course of the next five days, me and the other four group members (one of them stopped showing up after the first two days, we never figured out what happened to them) threw around ideas and blended multiple genres into the same track. The key to collaborative success, in our case and most others, is compromise. Instead of blending all of our individual styles into one continuous piece, we decided to have separate sections in the track for each of our particular strong points and often working off of what another one of us had made; I produced the drums, someone else put down a synth over it, someone else would add another layer, and so on.

The final product was an incoherent chaotic mess with jarring transitions between genres, but it was something we were all proud of. Every group had a similar experience, having several people each different musical backgrounds. It was an incredible experience and I’m glad I got to go and be a part of it.