The Education Issue (Spring 2022) by The Prattler

THE EDUCATION ISSUE • SPRING 2022

CONTENTS MAIN FEATURE

Puertorriqueña in New York Angélica Y. Díaz Diversé reflects on coming to the United States from Puerto Rico, and critiques America’s double standards on belonging.

No Right, No Wrong Comic by Serena Y. Cheng.

AROUND CAMPUS

A Look Inside the Library Hayes Mitchell shines light on the Pratt libraries and the wealth of information and resources they provide.

Art School and the “Major” Problem Cara McSongwe interviews a student who pursued their passion as a college major, and analyzes how this decision treats artists in the long run.

A Lesson on Microaggressions Naomi Desai recounts her experiences with microaggressions at Pratt, and proposes ways that our institution can be more inclusive.

AROUND THE CITY

The Stone Age Elijah Nadler spotlights The Stone Age, an interactive art installation/cannabis experience, and explains its educational value.

Green Figs and Yam: A Vegan and Omnivore Critique BKLYN Vegan Cafe Dana Hinkson reviews the memorable dining experience at Aunts et Uncles, a vegan cafe and retail shop.

OPINIONS

Different Fields of Study Merci Valdivieso sits down with an art and medical student, and compares their two vastly different college experiences.

Puertorriqueña in New York WORDS Angélica Y. Díaz Diversé COLLAGE Angélica Y. Díaz Diversé

In 2019, right after my senior prom, I moved from my home country of Puerto Rico to New York City. After saying goodbye to all of my friends through tears, I got on a plane in the early hours of the morning, not yet knowing that I wouldn’t be coming back for a while. I had visited New York a few times before, but visiting a place and living there are two completely different experiences. All of my ideas of what the United States was like came from movies and television. My home country is a small group of islands and is warm all year round. We’re a Latin American country in the Caribbean. We speak Spanish, and we’re unashamedly proud of our culture and language. A city in Puerto Rico doesn’t compare to a city in the United States. The city I lived in in Puerto Rico wasn’t full of skyscrapers and concrete. Instead, it was an abundance of green countryside and small houses. I could see the beach from the fifth floor of the 12-story building I lived in with my grandmother. I could drive from one side of Puerto Rico’s main island to the other in less than four hours. Because art isn’t a big thing in Puerto Rico, and there aren’t any great colleges to learn graphic design, I knew I’d have to study abroad. What I could’ve never prepared myself for was the

actual experience of living in the United States. Expectations, sometimes, never come close to reality. In Puerto Rico, we’re taught the “colonizer” is always the “savior.” We’re taught that if it weren’t for the United States, Puerto Rico would be nothing. We’re uncivilized in comparison to Americans, and our native taínos are savages. This perspective is thanks to our defective educational system, of course, but it ingrained an aspiration to leave Puerto Rico for the United States in many people. I remember viewing our independentistas as unorderly and idiotic. I thought we needed America, just like our corrupt politicians wanted us to believe. I didn’t know that I would come to join their idiotic beliefs one day. Upon arriving in New York, my identity changed. Suddenly, I went from Angélica, with an accent on the e, to just Angelica. Angie went from a nickname lovingly said by friends and family to a name I’d tell people because they couldn’t pronounce my full one. “It’s not like there’s any malice behind it,” my friends from both college and home would say. That’s what I convinced myself when I was told my full name was too long to be on school files. My full, legal name, with the last names given to me by my mother and father, was suddenly too much to write on a piece of paper.

MAIN FEATURE

During my time at Pratt, I toned down aspects of myself in order to fit in. I began to develop a long list of worries. Was I too loud? What if I pronounced words wrong? What if I slipped up and said something in Spanish? Questions were also raised regarding friendships and romantic relationships. If I told people I was Puerto Rican, would that make me less desirable than if I was American? I constantly wondered if I offended my American friends when I was surprised by things that were the norm in this country. This included heavier, political subjects. Being in the United States made me aware of the concept of race in a way that isn’t talked about

back home. When I learned about systemic racism, I was shocked. “That’s not how it works back home,” I said to my friends. “It’s not really a thing in Puerto Rico.” I felt they saw me as ignorant and naive. After thinking about it, though, I realized that these friends have lived all their lives in the United States and have an American perspective. I came to understand that I don’t have an upperhand in this country. I’m bothered by how it’s an American ideal to view this country as a sort of savior, and how many people portray themselves as advocates for all sorts of social and political causes. It’s ironic to me, especially, when I think about how

MAIN FEATURE

none of these people ever bring up Puerto Rico, a place that has been tied to the United States since the late 1800s. I’m indignant at the thought that no one in this country cares that the United States has tried to erase our history and take away our culture, traditions and language in an attempt to assimilate us. It has put its own constitution over ours. It gentrifies our country and makes it hard for Puerto Ricans to live in our homeland. It imposes laws that affect us. At the same time, some Americans and corrupt Puerto Rican politicians in the United States’ pocket claim statehood is the solution to my country’s problems. All we want is to finally

be independent for the first time in history. As a result of this, it baffled me to learn of the audacity some Americans have had to put my identity into question. “You don’t sound Puerto Rican,” a guy said to me once. It was the same thing said to my dad and his cousin, by a random stranger, when they were out in the street and offered what the stranger called “drugs for white people.” These things made me furious as I ranted to my friends. What is a Puerto Rican supposed to sound and look like? Who is allowed to determine that? Though my first two years of American college were spent upstate, I thought that because it was New York, people would be more understanding of Puerto Ricans. We can look like anything. We can have any skin tone imaginable, and many of us can speak English. A Puerto Rican doesn’t need a thick accent to be Puerto Rican, and we look as unique as our Hispanic and Latino brothers and sisters all across the Americas. It became clear to me that when Americans think of Puerto Ricans, they have a specific, stereotypical image of a heavily tanned person with an unintelligible thick accent when they speak English. They probably expect someone tied to crime in some way. One becomes desensitized to these things, but just because I’m used to Americans disrespecting and disregarding us doesn’t mean I’m any less angry. It’s been almost four years since I moved here and I’m still not used to speaking in English all the time. Sometimes, I’m even still embarrassed to say things with an accent or to pronounce them in Spanish in front of other people. I’m still not used to living in a country that doesn’t care about me or my people. I’m not used to living in a country that has and continues to harm my own. I feel frustrated every time I see the news or talk to my friends about how it seems no one knows or even cares that Puerto Rico is kept as a modern day colony of the United States. If anything, being in the United States, while helping me deepen my connection with my identity, has also made me more enraged and resentful at the oppression my country has faced at their hands. While I’m grateful I was able to study outside of Puerto Rico to get a degree that’s not available back home, being in the United States helped me see that this country doesn’t fit the image of the great savior that’s been fed to us for decades.

COMIC COMIC || Serena Serena Y. Y. Cheng Cheng

A Look Inside the Library WORDS Hayes Mitchell

ILLUSTRATION Dev Kamath

I spent my years at Pratt sitting among stacks of books, more engrossed in my studies than what was around me. By that, I don’t mean the pleasant atmosphere and picturesque rooms with big bright windows. I’m talking about what’s around me that I can’t always see, the resources I tend to overlook.

My favorite discovery this year is the ConnectNY resource. I never thought the Pratt library had the books I would enjoy reading. I was excited and surprised to hear that through ConnectNY, I could borrow a vast array of books indirectly through other libraries across the city, all without having to leave campus.

For many, the wealth of information the Pratt library has to offer is talked about during high school campus tours or at the beginning of freshman year, then easily forgotten. Part of this issue stems from the lack of practical application people think the building provides. The library contains much more than most people think.

There is also the option to chat with a librarian at the Reference Desk that pops up on the website during open hours. I get overwhelmed on websites when searching for answers because I’m never sure where to click or what link will take me in the right direction. Through the chat box, I’m able to sidestep this obstacle. I receive quick and informative responses to my questions, and I’m directed to the right links.

Many students are familiar with the library databases, which are great resources when writing essays or research papers. There are well over 100 databases, including popular ones such as ARTstor and subscription access to The New York Times. The film and video collection has an abundance of well-known titles, like Hayao Miyazaki’s films and, oddly enough, all four seasons of “Courage the Cowardly Dog.” If anyone is interested in learning about Pratt’s history, they can easily browse the archives collection. While perusing the library’s website, I made so many discoveries about the place. Did you know they had a blog? Surely, you knew of the shelves of periodicals on the second floor? I’ve seen countless issues of Vogue and Rolling Stone magazine, to name a few.

Students can also borrow up to 30 items at a time, three of which can be from the Equipment Loan Office, which loans equipment such as cameras and tripods. For books, the loan period is four weeks, much longer than the two week period I have experienced at my local library. I hope to make the most of Pratt library’s resources for the rest of my time here at school, and I hope that anyone who comes across this article might be inspired to do the same. Why not get the most out of your education? Maybe you’ll discover something new.

AROUND CAMPUS

Art School and th “Major” Problem WORDS Cara McSongwe ILLUSTRATION Avery Slezak

When you’re young, going to college to follow your dreams seems like the only way to do it. As you grow up, however, capitalism starts to cloud your vision and shift your wants and needs. The possibility of going to school to do something you love becomes slim. All of this is to say that going to art school is a privilege. It’s easy to forget that getting an education in your main hobby can quickly turn from dream to nightmare. I recently sat down with Pratt senior Kayla Abaza to talk about how studying her passion caused her to change her major and take a step back from the thing she thought she’d be doing her whole life. We started off by discussing how she became interested in illustration before branching off into her current major, art history. Abaza explained that she’d been interested in art for

as long as she could remember. “My parents put me in art camps and specialized art schools, and I think I was so drawn to it because it was something that I was good at,” Abaza stated. “Because I was doing it for so long, I felt like I didn’t know how to do anything else.” This is a sentiment many artists can relate to, myself included. When you’ve been working on your craft so long, you start to neglect other skill sets, especially when you’re under the impression that this is the thing you’ll be doing forever. As an artist, sometimes you get so good at what you do that it’s not until you acknowledge that you’re falling out of love with it that you realize you don’t know how to do anything else. “I really loved art my entire life,” Abaza stated. “It’s what I poured my heart and soul into,

so naturally, I thought I would make a career out of it. The more I pushed my art towards commercial standards, the less I liked the art I was making and the more miserable I felt.”

It’s easy to forget that getting an education in your main hobby can quickly turn from dream to nightmare. Abaza also recognized how this resentment was more of a slow creep, one she didn’t see coming until it had engulfed her and her work. We also discussed how going to Pratt helped and harmed Abaza’s passion towards her art.

“[Pratt] definitely helped me [become] better as an artist, technique wise, but I would’ve gotten better regardless over time,” Abaza said. “It killed my passion for it. I was constantly doing assignments and projects I just didn’t want to make.” It’s painful to think how the curriculum designed to help you can also hurt you.When you’re in an educational system that can’t afford to cater to each individual, people fall through the cracks. This doesn’t mean that art school isn’t worth it, though. It’s important to remember that your younger self’s fantasy about college is exactly that: a fantasy. Making your hobby full time work doesn’t make it a hobby anymore.

AROUND CAMPUS

A Lesson On Microaggressions WORDS Naomi Desai

ILLUSTRATION Dizzy Starfie

I’ve haven’t been dealing with microaggressions my entire life. Growing up in the Silicon Valley, my middle and high school were 80% Asian. White people were the minority. Pratt is the opposite of this. I’m usually one of few people of color in my classes. While I was one of many Asian people in the Bay Area, now I’m tokenized. Just last semester, in my ceramics class, I was making ceramic flowers when my white professor came by and told me that they had a student from India who’d made Diwali lanterns before. How did my professor know I was Indian or that I even celebrated Diwali? What did that have to do with the project I was working on? The most annoying thing was that she was right. My parents are immigrants from India and we do celebrate Diwali. The problem is that she just assumed these things based on my skin color and last name. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me at Pratt. I had to explain to a professor what AAPI stood for, despite how many attacks against the AAPI community have happened in New York recently. One of my classmates, who has known me for a year now, switched up my name with the only other brown person in the class. These are textbook examples of microaggressions. It’s not my job to educate you on my culture, and it’s not your place to assume that I’m even part of a specific culture. I don’t want to

explain to you what Diwali is, or explain the food my mom makes when I go home. So many white people think they’re woke because they act like racism is something to avoid in terms of being a good person. Eliminating racism doesn’t work like that. It’s a constant evaluation of whether you’re being inclusive or not. It involves thinking about whether what you’re saying or thinking is racist all the time. Most of the classes we take in art school are taught within a white, eurocentric perspective. As faculty and students, we need to try harder to open up the conversation to artists of color. Only two female artists of color were mentioned in my Themes in Art and Culture class. All the books I bought for my Typography and Information class are written by white people. All of my studio professors are white men. This is not by choice, but because Pratt hires an overwhelming amount of white professors. If Pratt isn’t going to incorporate people of color into the curriculum, then as students, we need to prove their importance in the field of art and design. Other people of color need to step up, too. There are so few of us who use our voices to advocate for each other. We need to work together to create a shared culture of respect and equality on campus and beyond.

The Stone Age WORDS Elijah Nadler ILLUSTRATION Tien Servidio PHOTO Ana Candelaria

Since moving to New York, my Tik Tok’s “For You” page has been an invaluable tool in getting to know the city. I came across a video promoting The Stone Age in Chelsea, a female and minority-owned business and New York’s first and only large-scale, non-consumptionbased cannabis experience. I’m originally from Toronto, and having followed Canada’s legalization in 2018 and dispensary storefront boom, I was curious about the exhibition and its role in cannabis culture in New York City. I reached out to Sasha Perelman, who cofounded the event with Elizabeth Santana, to learn more about their intentions and creative process. It was emphasized that people were hungry for information, so it should be easily digestible. The Stone Age was originally intended to move from city to city, but as the influential nature of educating New Yorkers about the normalization of plant medicine became evident, they decided to transition the exhibition into something more permanent. Perelman explained how their team chose curated artists based on non-traditional criteria. They looked for local street artists with their own personal relationship with cannabis, in any capacity. Most important to the event, as stated, were “artists who have been or currently are system-impacted.”

This educational narrative is exemplified through the event’s incredible art pieces. As you travel through The Stone Age, you absorb information around cannabis culture in the U.S. The seamless design that transitions each installation into the next shapes your experience as you digest the darker content. A highlight is a recreation of a prison cell, demonstrating the experience of those incarcerated due to cannabis offenses. The physical space and art pieces present this narrative in a visceral way for visitors. Viewers face walls coated in neverending tally marks and sculptural pieces of faces and body parts trapped within the walls themselves. They represent the lives that have been put on hold, or destroyed, by a broken criminal justice system. In the “Awareness” section, a stark red, black and white timeline of the War on Drugs teaches visitors about prohibition and highlights the injustice currently happening. QR codes lead to links to donate to Last Prisoner Project, the event’s community partner, and petitions are available near the exits to allow visitors to become part of the change. Even the gift shop is informative. While visiting, I noticed how open and relaxed the staff were, ready to answer questions and engage in dialogue about the exhibit rather than focusing solely on the transaction.

AROUND THE CITY

The Stone Age also offers panels, like “Sessions at The Stone Age,” which highlighted creatives shaping a new narrative around culture and advocacy. The panel featured four artists who facilitated talks around their relationship between art and cannabis. This type of programming creates innovative learning processes through open table discussions. In regards to adult education, cannabis, a previously stigmatized substance, remains taboo for some groups. In a panel setting, the presenters can address specific questions and concerns of varying generations. The Stone Age highlights the impact of incarceration in the U.S. on marginalized communities, rather than glorifying “weed” and substance use. It offers an intellectual view of cannabis through a creative installation design by local artists. Paired with the emotional impact that the art pieces evoke throughout, this exhibition provides visitors with resources to contribute to their communities. The Stone Age is exemplary in fostering education and advocacy through the arts.

Green Figs and Yam A Vegan and Omnivore Critique BKLYN Vegan Cafe WORDS Dana Hinkson ILLUSTRATION Tien Servidio

PHOTO Poorvaja Subramanian

It’s time to put down the cashews and the Nutribullet today, honey! Let Aunts et Uncles do the cooking. Aunts et Uncles is a vegan cafe and retail shop located on Nostrand Avenue with an extensive resume only two years after opening. It has been featured in The New York Times, Complex Magazine and Esquire Magazine. Just last year, the store’s owners—Nicole and Michael Nicholas—rang the opening bell at the New York Stock Exchange on behalf of American Express. At the sound of this cred, my vegan roommate, Poorvaja Subramanian, and my omnivore self had to see what the hype was about. On a Saturday in early February, we hustled out of our dorm a little after noon, hoping to beat the crowd and get a table. We managed to get the last open table at the restaurant. The second you get in, you are defrosted by music, the hum of various conversations and minimalist Caribbean interior design. We were served quickly and unabashedly analyzed the menu’s layout design before ordering. “Bro, is this Garamond?” I asked at one point, referring to the typeface used for the menu. After discussing serifs, we deduced that it was and liked the layout overall. We ordered two appetizer-like dishes and two main dishes. For appetizers, we chose the AU Immaculeé Patties, a remix of the Jamaican beef patty consisting of a dairy-free crust filled with seasoned Beyond Ground Meat, and the mofongo, a Puerto Rican dish made with mashed green plantains and garlic. For the main courses, we picked the Soup of the Day and the popular Bake and Saltfish sandwich, a Trinidadian and Guyanese dish usually made with salt-cured cod and served in delicious fried dough.

The wait for our food was not long. We were given just enough time to let our eyes wander over to the urbane selection of books ranging from A24 screenplay books to conversational pieces like “Among Others: Blackness at MoMA.” Before we could get to the wearable merchandise, it was time to eat. After finding ourselves excited to have the last bits of our meal packed up to take home, Poorvaja and I concluded that the food was just as bussin’ as the music. Everything was priced fairly for how filling each dish was—$40.28 including tax! Hilariously enough, this food was so good that it made me reflect: vegan and vegetarian food are their own genres. They both bring something new and experimental to the dinner table, separating them from other cuisines. Lately, I’ve been witnessing way too many people basing the notability of vegan and vegetarian fare solely on meat. I find the effort that these cuisines put toward emulating meatbased dishes to be an aspect of their notability. Aunts et Uncles proved this when they made that plant-based bake and saltfish, replacing saltfish with that textured heart of palm. Their choice of ingredients and presentation reveals that effort and experimentation, along with unique flavor, expresses the individuality of plant-based eating. To be musing like this, it’s official: Aunts et Uncles’ hype is well-deserved for vegans and omnivores alike. To learn more about Aunts et Uncles, and reserve your table today, visit their website at www.auntsetuncles.com.

Different Fields of WORDS Merci Valdivieso

ILLUSTRATION Tien Servidio

Aurora, a fourth-year illustration student at NJCU, and Yasmine, a third-year medical student, are two people in very different fields of study. It piqued my interest to learn more about how they experience their education. What do they do day in and out? How much can they possibly differ from one another? How much do they have in common? Yasmine and Aurora begin their days around the same time, one more begrudgingly than the other. What they choose to bring to class, though, suits their majors quite well. Yasmine is mandatorily obligated to bring his lab coat to wear during labs, where they perfect the art of adjusting microscopes. A laptop feels unnecessarily large, so he opts to use a classic notebook and pen. Aurora, swamped with work, brings her iPad and Apple Pen to take notes with (and possibly do homework while the professor is talking, but you didn’t hear it from me.)

Their different workloads also reflect their different areas of study. Aurora, a case study in five-hour studios and part-time jobbing as a barista, uses any amount of free time to do her extremely long projects (“I was in the art room, the moldy art room, for almost nine hours, sitting down in front of a computer trying to make a poster.”) She takes breaks whenever she becomes frustrated by playing rhythm games and is otherwise inaccessible. For this interview, she squeezed me in between her 3:30 class and 4:00 meeting for a group project.

Remember, no matter what your trajectory in life is, you are human.

OPINIONS

f Study To memorize all the anatomy, theory and ethics that he needs, Yasmine uses the Pomodoro method, where you study for 25-minute intervals with five minute breaks, listening to K-pop to stay stimulated (“I don’t understand why they’re saying, so my brain isn’t focusing on the lyrics.”) Besides studying, Yasmine seems to have significantly more free time than Aurora, using it to play video games or go on walks. His exams are not to be envied, though. Having to know a bone and its exact orientation, as well as being able to identify certain growths on its surface, is not fun. Yasmine had to learn to love medicine. After enduring rants about their mutually useless STEM classes, I asked Aurora and Yasmine if they had any final words to the public. They both said the same thing: Remember, no matter what your trajectory in life is, you are human.

“Doctors don’t know everything. There’s a reason there are specialists,” Yasmine stated. “Your future doctors are very behind in school. Take care of yourselves.” “Realize that artists are people and not deadbeats that don’t deserve praise and recognition,” Aurora said. “It’s not talent, it’s hard work.” Rule of thumb? Be kind to people, even if they’re a STEM major.

Letter From the Editor Prattlers, We’ve all witnessed the evolution of education over the past few years. The constant fluctuation between remote, hybrid and in-person learning has made taking classes and absorbing information something to, for lack of a better word, study. Because of this, it seemed there was no better theme for the midterm season than Education. This semester, our writers took this word and molded it into their own creative definitions. In this issue, we have thoughtful insight into the hidden wonder of Pratt’s libraries and introspective reviews on art experiences and local eateries. We have a much-needed lesson on Pratt’s hidden prejudices and an eloquent critique about America’s double standards. The Education issue is sure to be an informative and thought-provoking read for both students and staff alike. We hope you enjoy. Thank you, as always, for reading.

Carly Tagen-Dye Carly Tagen-Dye Editor-in-Chief

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER

ADVISORS

Carly Tagen-Dye

Christina Park

David Gordon Sahar Khraibani

MANAGING EDITOR

LAYOUT

Nina Martineck

Amber Duan

SOCIALS

YoTian Chu

Web: prattleronline.com

CREATIVE DIRECTORS Amber Duan YoTian Chu

COVER BY Dizzy Starfie

Email: theprattler@gmail.com Instagram: @prattler

Cover Story WORDS Dizzy Starfie Going in, I had a lot of ideas for the cover of the Education issue of the Prattler. There are so many different things connected to people’s experiences with education— the development of people’s knowledge and critical thinking, the connections we build with our classmates and educators, even the growth of one’s own character. At the same time though, there is a culture within academia and education that normalizes destructive behavior, particularly students’ prioritization of meeting deadlines to get the grades they need over not only their passion for learning and creating, but also their own health and well-being. That is reflected in this image of a student passed out sleeping in the hallway, surrounded by their schoolwork and school event posters. It attempts to encapsulate how tired and overwhelmed a lot of us might be feeling right now in an academic space.

PRATT INSTITUTE 2022