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The morning starts with a brisk hike. Club President Kevin Perez-Norwood leads the pack, and everyone’s eyes are peeled for concealed fungi. Perez-Norwood explains the differences between edible mushrooms and their poisonous counterparts, while also demonstrating proper, sustainable techniques for foraging mushrooms.
The group stumbles upon one hidden among tufts of grass, crouching to get a better look at the specimen. Perez-Norwood parts the strands, gently prodding his knife around the fungi to loosen the dirt. The mushroom is the right size, prime for picking.
“We don’t really harvest the really young mushrooms, unless we’re desperate to find something,” says Toshiro Wada, a second year Cal Poly student.
With that, Perez-Norwood gingerly pulls out the mushroom, head and stem intact. “Leave no trace,” Perez-Norwood intones, as he covers up the hole he created by harvesting.
After getting their fill of fungi, the group moves on to their next destination on their foraging journey. The goal is to collect a few species of mushrooms—both edible and poisonous—to display at the SLO Museum of Art’s event, The Possibilities of Mushrooms. One of the group’s stops is the Fiscalini Ranch Preserve, where they observe what’s growing because it’s illegal to pick mushrooms on the property.
Signs placed along the preserve’s trails warn pedestrians that foraging is prohibited, but that hasn’t stopped people from hauling away wild oyster mushrooms, morels, and porcinis. Posts on the Cambria Currents Facebook group call out the mushroom poachers, who often take “bags and bags of mushrooms.”
But the damage doesn’t stop with what poachers take with them—it’s also what they leave behind. Kitty Connolly, executive director of Friends of the Fiscalini Ranch Preserve, explained over the phone that when foragers stray away from established trails to search for mushrooms, they can damage newly emerged seedlings and the part of fungi that grows below the surface.
“That’s part of the reason that picking is illegal, collecting is illegal on the ranch,” Connolly said. “It’s because we’re trying to support the ecosystem, local ecosystem, and you do that by not removing the resources.”
Foraging has burst into the limelight in the past three years, a phenomenon that Perez-Norwood calls the “shroom boom.” Increased public interest means that the existing natural resources on the preserve can’t continue to sustain the growing number of amateur foragers.
Connolly explained that even if each forager only takes 10 percent of the mushroom population, it eventually depletes the resources.
“Pretty soon you have 0.005 percent left of what that resource was, because there was a time before Europeans came to California when the whole state had a million people, and you could survive on foraging. But now your high school has a million people,” Connolly said.
Just because a mushroom has been picked doesn’t mean it’s gone forever. Fourth year Cal Poly student Joey Hammond explained to New Times via phone that mushrooms are the fruiting bodies of mycelium, an underground network of fungal threads that typically sprout mushrooms after a bout of rain.
“You won’t kill a species by picking mushrooms. You will cause ecosystem damage if you’re going around in areas that are, like, let’s say off trails and pushing through a lot of wilderness and things like that,” Hammond said. “But taking a lot of mushrooms, at least for an individual person, to my knowledge doesn’t cause ecosystem damage.”
Connolly explained that enforcing the “no foraging” rule has been especially difficult, due to it being a nonviolent crime, and the lack of a Cambria law enforcement agency. Instead, the ranch relies on visitors to “watch out for the ranch and its resources.”
“Irresponsible foragers don’t care about the rules. And they just take things if they want them, so it’s a real challenge to get people to want to behave ethically,” Connolly said.
But not all foragers are irresponsible. One way Hammond practices sustainable foraging is by avoiding smaller, underdeveloped mushrooms.
“Foraging is a very etiquette-based hobby because it’s very easy for someone to run through and destroy stuff or just kind of ruin the conditions for other people,” Hammond said.
And California isn’t necessarily set up to be forager friendly. Foraging is prohibited on most state-owned public lands, with the exception of Salt Point State Park. The same goes for foraging on private land, which is why Hammond uses an app called OnX Hunt, which shows land ownership.
“I really like finding new areas. I like looking at a map, looking at where the different forests of SLO are, looking at public access land, it’s almost like a treasure hunt. You get out there, and half the time you’re entirely wrong about something,” Hammond said. “Maybe you’re looking out for an hour and worst case scenario is you’re somewhere you haven’t been before; best case scenario, you find something.”
It can take up to a week for mushrooms to sprout after a storm, but overzealous foragers can quickly decimate that fresh crop, leaving none for hungry animals or other foragers. If practiced correctly, Perez-Norwood believes foraging can be more sustainable than getting groceries from the store.
“I think the main problem with foraging and a lot of these unsustainable practices are because people just aren’t informed of what’s right,” Perez-Norwood says. “They don’t think that they’re doing anything wrong for the most part.”
That’s why Perez-Norwood takes members of the mycology club on foraging trips, where he teaches beginners how to forage without damaging the environment.
On another stop of their foraging journey, club members gather around a large cluster of bright orange mushrooms as they watch Perez-Norwood carefully inspect the fungi’s characteristics.
To the untrained eye, a poisonous mushroom could look identical to its edible counterpart. There are a variety of litmus tests that mushroom hunters can perform to identify a poisonous mushroom.
One method of identification is using potassium hydroxide, which can prompt color change in a mushroom. Hammond, who is colorblind, uses other methods of identification to distinguish between fungi.
“Color is only part of the equation,” Hammond said. “With the mushrooms there’s more minute details and emotions, like the way that the caps are shaped, the way that the gills are shaped, attached to the stipe.”
While foragers have different philosophies on the hobby, Perez-Norwood believes that commercialization of the hobby contributes to the problems ailing the Fiscalini Ranch Preserve.
“Foraging at its very core is connecting back to nature. I think if you’re a mindful, intentional forger, I think you’re more likely to protect nature,” Perez-Norwood says. “I think when you go into foraging just for the money, that isn’t a question to get spend as much as possible. Like damn anything else. It’s just kind of like you’re missing the point of it.”
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On Thursday nights, Higuera Street is packed with various vendors hawking their wares at the Downtown SLO Farmers’ Market. Nestled between a jewelry vendor and a booth featuring succulents is one business that sells something genuinely bizarre.
Jars of decorated animal skulls, various preserved animal feet, pinned butterflies, and other creature curios are neatly arranged on a table. These unique creations are the work of Erin Binger, owner of Bizarre Antiques and Oddities.
“I don’t kill anything for my art. Most of my stuff comes from exterminators, where, you know, it’s their job to kill these things,” Binger said. “And so instead of just tossing it into the trash, I give it a second life.”
Before she started Bizarre Antiques and Oddities, Binger worked at a funeral home, where she learned how to embalm and preserve things. When the COVID-19 pandemic started, that’s when Binger decided to take a leap of faith, quit her job at the funeral home, and take up a new endeavor. Inspiration struck when a friend gifted Binger with a rodent skull two years ago.
“My cat kept messing with it and knocked it off the top of my cabinet and broke it. And so then I was like, OK, you know, I need to put something over this,” Binger said. “I put it up a little higher, and it didn’t work so I put a wineglass over the top of it, and it just snowballed from there.”
Since then, Binger has been turning the dead into works of art, preserving their beauty in glass cloches surrounded by flowers, pinning them in photo frames, or letting their natural beauty shine in a simple glass jar.
“I try to make things differently. You know, try not to make anything the same. Like I don’t want it to have that cookie-cutter reproductive [aesthetic],” said Binger, who often sources things to include in her art from antique stores.
“I try to keep the classical side of taxidermy and pinned creatures that they would do 200 years ago,” Binger said. “So I try to keep that same classy, Victorian style to my stuff as well as throwing in plastic things like that don’t fall apart and rot and decay, so that will literally last the way it is forever.”
Aside from getting specimens from exterminators and pet stores, Binger told New Times that sometimes people will donate things for her to use in her art, including deceased pets.
“Occasionally once in a blue moon, I might pick up roadkill, but it’s just meh. I don’t like stuff that I don’t know how long it’s been there,” Binger said.
Not every animal Binger receives can be useable. While she uses what she can, Binger said that she’ll oftentimes discard the guts.
“I have to kind of examine it, see what parts of it I can use or if I can use the whole creature—if it’s in good shape, I will essentially embalm the whole creature and put it in a jar,” Binger said. “If it’s damaged to the skull or damaged to the body, I will use what I can off of it so the littlest amount gets wasted.”
The process of transforming corpses into art can take anywhere from a few days to several weeks, depending on whether Binger is mummifying them, dehydrating them, or simply cleaning the skulls and bones. While Binger works on all sorts of critters, both big and small, she said that any poisonous animals and ones suspected to have rabies are off-limits.
“I have animals at home. I have my three dogs, three cats, two chickens, and 10 rabbits,” Binger said. “I can’t expose them or take a risk of exposing them to anything so I just don’t. That’s another reason why I don’t pick up a lot of roadkill.”
Out of all the creatures she works with, snakes are Binger’s personal favorite.
“I could never have a live one, just because they creep me out. They bite and sometimes, they’re kind of an unpredictable creature,” Binger said. “But when they’re dead, they’re beautiful. I love their skeletons. I love seeing them diaphonized. I love seeing them in a frame. “
Reactions to Binger’s art can vary. Binger says most people are fascinated by her creations, but there are some who are apprehensive. Macey Hardridge, owner of Lucky Lucky Studios in SLO became a fan of Binger’s art five months ago when her friend purchased a piece of Binger’s art. That led Hardridge to purchase pieces of her own—one of a snake skeleton, and another of an open-mouthed alligator skull.
“I think when it comes to artwork in general, a lot of it’s subjective, and so it depends on what people like, [and] it if it’s not their thing, I think that’s totally fine,” Hardridge said. “But if you think about it as artwork and also preserving beautiful things, I think that can change the mindset a little bit.”
“This is a giant tidal wave coming to academia.”
That’s how Paso Robles High School English teacher Aaron Cantrell describes ChatGPT—a new artificial intelligence software that’s been the talk of classrooms all across the country. The software has ignited conversations among teachers at Paso High since its launch on Nov. 30, 2022. Created by San Francisco based company OpenAI, ChatGPT has the ability to formulate human-like written responses to any question or request asked by the user.
Once Cantrell started exploring ChatGPT, he said he realized it was “a force to be reckoned with.”
“I asked it to write all of the essays that I’ve assigned to my students this year,” he said. “A good chunk of them did phenomenally well in 15 seconds on each of them. I said, ‘Wow, we’re gonna have to have a conversation about this, because it’s a bit of a game changer.”
The way it works is simple—ask ChatGPT to write anything, like an essay, an article, or even a cover letter. Within 15 seconds, ChatGPT delivers, which makes it fairly easy for students to cheat. A survey conducted by study.com reveals that 89 percent of survey respondents said they have used the platform to help with a homework assignment.
Paso High School senior Cosmo Toohey-Bergvall explained that ChatGPT is blocked on the school’s Wi-Fi as well as students’ Google accounts, making it impossible for students to use the software on school-assigned Chromebooks even while they’re away from school.
Toohey-Bergvall said that the software lacks a “personal touch” when it comes to essays but noted that it could be good for “busy work” assignments.
“[It’s] a very, very useful tool that can create a large amount of text, push people off in a certain direction, inspire them, or just generally serve as a basis for your writing, rather than it being a thing that can create whatever you need from scratch from a few words and a prompt,” Toohey-Bergvall said. “It needs to be taken care of and nursed in the right direction.”
Cantrell said there could be a way to use the AI software that facilitates actual learning.
“What can we do to maybe use some functions of AI to do research?” Cantrell said. “I don’t think there’s anything necessarily virtuous about going through a card catalog, or search engine, and finding things and putting them in order. Maybe that part of it we can outsource to machines. But then the accumulation of all these ideas and the driving of some kind of argument can be retained by human beings.”
Ryan Jenkins, associate professor of philosophy at Cal Poly, said that any integration of chatbots into education should be handled carefully.
“I think that that has a pretty significant potential to erode some of the values of going through a college class. For example, if you reach the point—so, far end of the spectrum—where an AI is writing your essays for you, it’s not obviously different to me than having one of your classmates hand you an essay,” Jenkins said. “That is to say, neither of those is really challenging the students to reflect on their own beliefs to work through a different difficult puzzle.”
There’s not a lot of plagiarism software equipped to deal with AI-written essays. So far, the most popular detection software is called GPTZero, which was developed by 22-year-old Princeton student Edward Tian.
Since the technology is so new, teachers and administrators at Cal Poly are divided on how to tackle the use of ChatGPT.
“I think you see a range of all kinds of responses from this sort of Chicken Little ‘the sky is falling’ response to people who are openly embracing it,” Jenkins said. “In the middle, I think you have a lot of folks that are saying, ‘Look, we can’t fight against this. You know, we can’t prevent students [from] remembering that this technology exists.”
While there has been no official directive from Cal Poly administrators regarding what to do with ChatGPT, Jenkins said that there’s been a lot of “hand-wringing” within departments.
However, Cal Poly computer science professor Franz Kurfess has begun using ChatGPT as a learning tool. In his Computer Support for Knowledge Management class, Kurfess encourages his students to compare their proposal with a version that ChatGPT generated.
“A few students already experimented with it, and the results were decidedly mixed. So some of them said they were actually impressed because the results that ChatGPT delivered were reasonable, not perfect, but then the students’ proposal probably also will not be perfect,” Kurfess said. “Other students said it was practically unusable. And it’s too early to draw conclusions, but my suspicion is that the students who didn’t get good results had very technical topics.”
One student who experimented with ChatGPT was fourth-year Computer Engineering major Brett Gowling, who explored the chatbot’s capabilities and its shortcomings through a presentation he did for Kurfess’ class.
“I think the main problem that you have to avoid with students using this is the direct adoption of the AI output as one’s own. And I think you can use, or you should be able to use, maybe an outline or structure that the bot developed,” Gowling said. “But the text should be either modified significantly, to make it your own, or it should be direct quotes, if it’s going to remain unchanged, and you need to give credit then to the chatbot.”
In an effort to further facilitate conversations about the implications of ChatGPT in academia, Jenkins and his colleagues published a report on Jan. 30 about the norms of using and crediting AI for its contributions to scholarship.
“There have been several papers that have been co-authored by ChatGPT and other large language models. So we sort of drew up some principles about this and how to think about this from the perspective of a scholar,” Jenkins said. “I think next we’ll try to suggest some language for the administration to propagate down to students.”
While it might be too early to predict what the future of education might look like with the introduction of ChatGPT, Jenkins said that teaching methods are going to have to change.
“My worry is that this technology will sort of start at the boundaries and creep in to colonize or to displace more and more of the kinds of activities and assessments that we would have in a classroom that are supposed to really challenge people to think,” Jenkins said.
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Confusion, fear, and panic engulfed Hearst Castle when a suspect stole a car and led law enforcement on a chase through the state park that ended with the suspect barricading himself in one of the cottages on the hill.
Although the suspect, identified as Jarrod Michael Crockrom, was eventually apprehended by officers with the San Luis Obispo County Sheriff’s Office, California State Parks, and California Highway Patrol, some Hearst Castle employees felt that there weren’t enough security measures in place and that this situation could have escalated had the suspect been armed.
According to one Hearst Castle employee, who wishes to remain anonymous, the Feb. 26 incident showed them that State Parks doesn’t care about the well-being of employees.
“I’m willing to admit, unfortunately, the state doesn’t care about me as a person. They don’t care about my colleagues. They care about revenue,” the employee said. “And that’s where I’d become not a disgruntled employee but a concerned employee.”
One of the things staff members are concerned about is a lack of law enforcement officers, firefighters, and medical personnel stationed in the park. While Hearst Castle does have security guards in addition to park rangers, the employee said that the security guards—also known as “day security”—are not qualified to handle incidents like the one that occurred on Feb. 26.
“They’re there to tell you not to stand on the Persian rug. Don’t sit on that 16th century table,” the employee said. “They’re there to protect the monument, not necessarily the individual.”
Had there been more of a law enforcement presence on castle grounds the day of the break-in, this entire event could have been prevented, the employee said.
According to Dan Falat—superintendent of State Parks’ San Luis Obispo Coast District, which includes Hearst Castle—the total number of rangers assigned to the park at any one time varies. He said that during the incident, approximately 12 law enforcement officers were on scene as well as fire and medical personnel.
Currently, Hearst Castle is working to hire more fire personnel, after the last firefighter stationed on-site retired in November 2022, according to Falat. Having fire personnel on-site is something that the two employees who spoke to New Times feel is necessary due to how long it takes for emergency personnel to respond to calls from Hearst Castle.
File Photo By Shwetha Sundarrajan
BREAK IN Hearst Castle employees sheltered in place on Feb. 26 as Jarrod Michael Crockrom allegedly led police on a chase through the state park, eventually barricading himself in one of the castle’s cottages.
On Feb. 26, the Sheriff’s Office responded to a report of a stolen vehicle from the Cambria Community Services District on Rodeo Grounds Road in Cambria. As officers were taking the report, according to Sheriff’s Office spokesperson Tony Cipolla, State Park rangers notified officers that they had located the stolen vehicle and were in pursuit. Falat said the vehicle was seen near Leffingwell Landing, a day-use area off Moonstone Drive in Cambria. The suspect then drove north on Highway 1 toward Hearst Castle, with law enforcement in pursuit.
Falat said that the stolen car burst through two separate gates—the first gate near the visitors center, which is when the emergency siren went off for the first time in 20 years, then the second gate closer to the castle. When the suspect hit a dead-end road, Falat said he barricaded himself in one of the guest cottages.
“There was an evacuation as well as shelter-in-place that was throughout the entire incident,” Falat said. “You know, depending on where the employees were and where the public was. Wherever the security breaches [are] depends on what actions are called, but that kind of security and emergency protocols started from the moment it was breached.”
The two employees who spoke to New Times felt that staff could’ve been notified of what was happening once the suspect turned off Highway 1 toward the Hearst Castle entrance. However, Falat said that there was no need to sound the alarm before the suspect breached the first gate. He added that Hearst Castle’s dispatch center did an “outstanding job” of coordinating with law enforcement and park staff to manage a chaotic situation.
The Feb. 26 incident was the first time someone had breached Hearst Castle grounds during public hours, according to Falat, who added that there have been incidents in the past where people have intruded onto castle grounds during off-hours.
“[Intruders have] been located and found [at] various points, whether it’s down here at the visitor’s center, or even potentially have reached the outer gate, usually on foot or something like that. But those haven’t happened in quite some time. I don’t even recall the last time that occurred,” Falat said.
The last time Hearst Castle used its emergency sirens was in 2003 during the San Simeon earthquake. Incidents involving emergency sirens are rare, due to Hearst Castle having round-the-clock security, radio and cellphone communications, and 24/7 on-duty security staff. Falat said that he thought the staff did an excellent job responding to the February incident.
“From a security standpoint … does it mean we can improve? Yes. We can always improve if it’s warranted and justified,” Falat said. “Those warning protocols are critical to ensuring effective communication to everybody throughout the castle.”
Another Hearst Castle employee, who also requested anonymity, said that employees don’t get enough emergency situation training, adding that the last training staff received was in 2020.
“We have a whole lot of new staff because we lost a lot of people during COVID. So we have a whole lot of new people that have never received that training,” the employee said. “I think it’s a little negligent on their part not to have this kind of training at least once a year.”
Falat said that every employee goes through safety training as part of their hiring process, adding that he spoke to staff and visitors after the incident to ensure that staff was aware of the security procedures in place.
“We’re evaluating that and any corrections that need to be made,” he said.
Falat also told New Times that employee safety training is the responsibility of each employee’s supervisor, adding that training is supposed to be done annually with staff, but it can be difficult to do with rotating staff and being open 363 days a year. He said that the park is still evaluating ways to improve in the wake of this incident, which includes reviewing protocols to make sure all employees are aware of what to do in an emergency or medical situation.
“We’ve had a lot of—we’ve had some new guides, and if anything, I think the testament to how well [the training program] worked is proof based upon the incident itself,” Falat said.
MUNCIE, Indiana–---Music is everywhere, no matter wherever you go. From the rhythmic pattering of rain, the bass resonating through wooden floors, the collective first breath of an orchestra, the sound of strings being tuned, to the feeling of a brand new reed, music is omnipresent in everyone’s lives, whether one is a musician or not.
Multiple studies have shown the impacts that music can have on children, from improving cognitive functions, language skills, team-building skills, and more. Despite multiple research studies conducted proving the benefits of music, then why are music education programs across the country under attack? Music and arts programs in public schools across the country are constantly at risk of getting funding cut, due to school districts facing financial shortfalls. Prior to Muncie Community school’s partnership with Ball State, MCS was on the verge of financial collapse. There were several financial and enrollment concerns. Muncie Community Schools had a little over 11,000 students enrolled in 1984, and since then, the number of students enrolled has decreased by 53%. With about 5,500 kids in the district, the district had about $12 million in debt in 2019. Except for 2009, the Muncie education system had spent more than the annual budget every year.
The lack of enrollment and financial stress meant there were more staff cuts, which has eliminated a strings program offered in Muncie Community Schools, says Deborah Mizelle, who has been leading the band program at Northside Middle Schools for 9 years.
“Our enrollment this year is the biggest system since 2016. So things are turning around. And there’s a good chance that [the strings program] could come back again. When it comes time to make cuts, and I hate to admit it, but the dollar runs things,” Mizelle said.
While money does make the world go round, it can also limit students from lower-income families from learning music. And learning music isn’t cheap. Private lessons can range anywhere from $30-80, depending on locality and the type of instructor. Mizelle does the best she can to reduce rental costs, from having extra supplies, such as reeds, cork grease, valve oil, and more to compiling her own instrument inventory.
“When I first started I think I’ve probably in the time I’ve been here added maybe 20 to 25 instruments, have not gotten any money like a grant, have gotten instruments on Facebook marketplace, have had parents donate instruments,” Mizelle said. She’s done everything from buying her neighbor’s clarinet to fundraising with World’s Finest Chocolate in order to expand the music inventory. With the help of the assistant superintendent, Mizelle pushed for more funding.
“I don’t know where that money came from, but 35 more kids could play an instrument that worked. And that’s the first time that’s happened. And the school system has been very supportive. The school board is very supportive. And Ball State has done great things and helped the school,” Mizelle said.
According to the International Association for the Evaluation of Educational Achievement, “The schools that produced the highest academic achievement in the United States today are spending 20% to 30% of the day on the arts, with special emphasis on music.” Multiple studies have proven the impact music has on kids, so it is imperative that music should be accessible to all.
“I don’t ever want a kid not to be able to play because they can’t afford it. I had a student [who] really wanted to play the saxophone, and it was too much money. And I said, I don’t have any saxophones, but I have a clarinet and she was a little disappointed but said okay. Somehow her mom found a clarinet somewhere,” Mizelle said. “And last Friday, she said can I play a song for it? Now we’re playing Mary Had a Little Lamb. That’s where the kids are. She said, ‘can I play a song I just figured out for you?’ And she played the opening part of fly me to the moon by Frank Sinatra. She just sat down she started playing it. I know. I looked at it I go could you just sit and figure that out? She said she did so during her free time,” Mizelle said.
Not only does Mizelle make it easier for her students to access music, but other music organizations like the Youth Symphony Orchestra also have options for students who cannot afford the expensive costs of instrument rentals. According to Tiffany Arnold, Executive Director of the Youth Symphony Orchestra (YSO), the rental cost can vary, depending on the instrument.
“I think if you rented a violin at the local music store or at an online store and probably be I’m guessing 20 to 30, per month. And then, larger instruments like cello and bass would be just a lot more,” Arnold said.
The Youth Symphony Orchestra removes these financial roadblocks for students by making a violin, viola, cello, and bass rental fee around 50 per school year, plus a $25 security deposit for repairs. They also offer financial assistance for students who require it.
Founded in 1964, the Youth Symphony Orchestras of East Central Indiana (YSOECI) brings together young musicians from Delaware and surrounding counties to provide weekly orchestral experiences specifically tailored for students.
Arnold’s love for music began in 4th grade when she started playing the violin at Burris. After years of practice, Arnold went to Oberlin Conservatory of Music, where she got a degree in violin performance. After working in retail management, Arnold came back to teaching and opened her studio at 40 years old and has never looked back. In addition to teaching private lessons, Arnold also teaches Suzuki-Based violin classes for 5-6-year-olds at YSOECI.
While learning music is certainly beneficial, it’s difficult for students to learn who comes from a working or lower-income family due to the time and financial commitment needed to learn an instrument. “if a parent is not familiar with the importance of strings or it, or any instrument of music, then they might not prioritize it for their child,” says Arnold.
According to a study called Learning improved by arts training by Nature Journal, students of lower socioeconomic status who took music lessons in grades 8-12 increased their math scores significantly as compared to non-music students. But just as important, reading, history, geography, and even social skills soared by 40%.
Not only does music affect academics, but it can help students with their teamwork skills.
“One of the things that I think is really cool about playing in an orchestra for students is that they will be playing with people who they would never encounter, necessarily, otherwise so that student playing next to them may not look like them, they might never meet them in school there might be a different age, but playing music as you know, can really forge bonds between individuals,” Arnold said.
When you walk through the double doors at the Westminster Presbyterian Church on Mondays, you’ll hear the faint orchestral music waft through the hallways. Follow the music, and you’ll see an ensemble of young musicians laughing, dancing, and practicing. Leading this ensemble is Dr. Matthew H. Spieker, Conductor of the Youth Symphony Orchestra. Dr. Spieker is also a professor of music at Ball State and is in charge of a partnership between Ball State and YSOECI where pre-service teachers are gaining teaching experience by working with students in the YSO.
“ I want them [my students] to be the kind of a director in a school that learns while the importance and the value of creating a small community within a high school, especially these big high schools because kids just get lost in those places. When you’ve got an orchestra home, or you got a choir home or you got a band home, you have these incredible experiences with other kids by making music,” Spieker said.
Not only does Spieker encourages his students to work with YSO students, but to also works with students at the Ross Community Center, which offers viola and cello lessons as an after-school opportunity for students living in lower-income areas. The program started in 2019 when the Muncie Symphony Orchestra would put on an “instrument petting zoo” event in order to introduce kids to various instruments.
Jackie Hannoman is the Executive Director at the Ross Community Center and was inspired to bring music to lower-income areas. Hannoman connected with Arnold, and YSOECI was able to bring Prelude to the Ross Center, where Youth Symphony staff, board members, and volunteers provide beginning stringed instrument instruction to students enrolled in Ross Community Center. Alex Moss, a junior instrumental music education major, is part of Spieker’s partnership program, and she devotes her time to both YSO & the Ross Community Center.
“A big part of it, for me personally, is providing a space for students to feel safe and feel welcome and feel like they can express themselves in a positive way. Some of these students don’t necessarily have, the best support system or they might not have all the resources to express themselves freely and in other regards. So it’s nice to be able to give them space to make some noise and to learn a new skill,” Moss said.
Although learning music can pose many barriers from financial to time constraints for families and schools, it cannot be denied that music plays a detrimental role in the development of a child. Music education needs to be more widespread in our country, and it’s becoming more accessible to students from lower-income families because of programs like the Youth Symphony Orchestras of East Central Indiana and the Ross Community Center.
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Victims and abusers alike are affected by the narrative of domestic abuse.
Brian Walkup has close-cropped hair covered by a ball cap, striking blue eyes, and a silver chain around his neck. At first glance, you wouldn’t know he has been to prison six times, has been arrested 50-60 times, stabbed, shot, was jumped by the Aryan Brotherhood, and was a domestic abuser.
Brian is from Worcester, Mass., where he was raised by a single mother in the projects. He calls himself a “career criminal” since he started dealing drugs and hanging out with gang members as a teenager. When Brian turned 18, he enlisted in the Marine Corps at the insistence of his mother and uncles to straighten out his life.
“I wasn’t thinking long-term goals. The job I picked was infantry. For a kid who was already violent, that was a bad combination because I spent the next four years of my life, in essence, just training how to kill people every day just in case war happened,” Brian says.
When Brian turned 19, he took a trip to West Lafayette, Ind., to build a relationship with his estranged father. Six months passed, but Brian says he didn’t feel any closer with his father. He did, however, meet a woman, which enticed him to stay in Indiana.
But after 11 years of living amongst the Hoosier cornfields, Brian found himself in and out of prison six times for various reasons, through two marriages and divorces and “a whole lot of trouble.”
After serving his sixth prison stint, Brian decided that he was done with being a career criminal. That resolve didn’t last for long, because two years out of prison, Brian got arrested again for domestic battery in 2014.
“I sat in a jail cell for 12 hours and kind of just kept playing it in my head. Most times I got in a fight, it would be over with, and I couldn’t care less. The next day I sleep fine. But that [the assault] really bothered me,” Brian says. “Part of it was because she was a girl, and I never really viewed myself as physical with women before and the realization that I could have killed her hit me.”
As he was walked from his cell to the courtroom, Brian says he was overcome with guilt, and he pled accordingly. His sentence: two years of unsupervised probation and 26 weeks of Abuse Awareness Accountability (AAA). Led by Harry Heyer, the program helps those like Brian remedy their abusive behaviors. Sometimes, Heyer says, participants don’t acknowledge that their behaviors were or are abusive.
“We define abuse as anything that breaks the golden rule, so by that definition everybody on the planet is a perpetrator at some level and a victim at some level,” Heyer explains.
After completing his court-mandated 26 weeks of the program, Brian kept coming back for more classes until he decided to become an AAA instructor. Brian says that decision changed his life for the better.
Heyer understands Brian. The director of AAA was once arrested for domestic battery and struggled with alcoholism. Like Brian, he was mandated to the 26-week program, and kept coming back for more classes.
Seeing the program’s influence, Heyer began to train as a program facilitator and then decided to get a master’s in social work at IUPUI. He shared his own personal struggles in his classes.
According to Heyer, abuse stems from multiple factors, but the problem emerges due to many people not being taught in a healthy way to recognize and deal with fear.
“We are taught to shift fear to anger,” says Heyer.
This fear and anger can create stress that causes people to rely on unhealthy coping mechanisms like drinking and smoking. Heyer recommends doing what you can to eliminate stress from your life, because these behaviors, paired with abuse, can be a dangerous combination. Brian and Heyer are just two examples of how it can play out.
If you type domestic abuse into your browser, you’re presented with hundreds of images of bruised and battered women cowering from a threatening male figure. And that’s the majority of narratives that surround the issue of domestic violence: the man hits the woman. However, according to the Association of Domestic Violence Intervention Providers, rates of female-perpetrated violence are higher than male-perpetrated—28.3% vs. 21.6%.
According to the Duluth Power and Control Wheel, domestic abuse encompasses far more than the physical. Emotional abuse, isolation, denial, and intimidation are just some of the ways that women can abuse.
Melanie Jones was 26 when she met her abuser. Having a degree in social work, she thought she knew what domestic violence looked like and would recognize the signs before falling into an abusive situation herself.
Melanie completed her undergraduate at Anderson University in 2004 and subsequently spent two years at Anderson University’s School of Theology and Christian Seminary before dropping out due to a heartbreaking situation. She fell in love with a female classmate during a time when the university was not accepting of the LGBTQ+ community. Her classmate, who was studying to become a minister, was moved far away from Melanie by the ministry.
“I literally just fell off the face of the earth and walked away from my community and from most of my friends,” Melanie says.
It was during this low point that she met her abusive ex.
Being a part of a Christian community meant that it was difficult for Melanie to connect with others who were like her because homosexuality was considered taboo at the time.
“I was so terrified of being alone the rest of my life that it was kind of a situation of the first person who showed any interest in me. My ex was very manipulative. She was good at figuring out what I valued to make herself seem like that person,” says Melanie.
Three months into the relationship, Melanie says she realized it was abusive and tried to break it off. However, Melanie’s ex suffered a heart attack right around that time, so it was easy for her to guilt Melanie into staying. A lot of the red flags that Melanie noticed early on included emotional abuse and controlling behavior.
Melanie specifically remembers one instance when her abusive partner confronted her for having a phone conversation with her dad without consulting her. She still recalls being lectured about supposedly hiding things and how guilty it made her feel.
“It would turn into making herself the victim. It was very easy for her to play off a lot of her bad behavior that way,” Melanie says.
It may seem like the obvious decision to leave an abusive partner at the first red flag. But for many people, including Melanie, it isn’t always that simple. The constant guilt-tripping and manipulation tactics that preyed upon Melanie’s weaknesses and her generous nature kept her in the clutches of an abusive relationship for nearly eight years.
For example, Melanie says her partner often took in people and animals who needed a home. Since Melanie was the primary wage earner in their household, she felt pressured to stay and care for them.
One night, her partner’s lecturing turned into threatening to destroy her property and cut off her mode of transportation by blocking her vehicle. She even physically cornered Melanie in the hallway. Soon after she fell asleep, Melanie sat in her car, doors locked, and made a call to the domestic violence hotline. After explaining her situation, she was transferred to the local police, who she says were unhelpful.
According to Melanie, the police stated that they could come out if she felt unsafe, but ultimately, they couldn’t force the person who caused that feeling inside of her to leave.
“It didn’t matter that it was my house. It didn’t matter that she was making all these threats to me. None of that matters in the end. I did eventually get a protective order against her, but it took me three tries,” Melanie says.
After her first protective order was denied, the legal system decided to send Melanie’s ex a notification that she had filed a protective order, which Melanie says made matters worse.
Even with help from the Muncie Victim Advocate program, filing the second restraining order was difficult for Melanie. She says she believes her requests were denied because her abuser was a woman. According to the National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs (NCAVP), nearly 45% of LGBTQ+ victims of intimate partner violence do not report the abuse they experience to the police because they believe they will not be helped.
In Melanie’s case, the third time really was the charm. With the help from the Muncie Victim Advocate program, she was finally able to file her protective order.
Shelby Looper leads the Muncie Victim Advocate program as its director, helping people like Melanie with anything ranging from protective orders, assistance in court, and necessities such as providing information regarding their case, counseling, and more.
“The criminal justice system as a whole is centered around offenders. So the criminal justice system was made because of bad people if you will, and at its core, the victims are left out. So, until we make better efforts to make sure they’re included, like forming programs like mine, it’s going to be that way,” Looper explains.
Domestic violence isn’t just black and white, Looper says. There is a myriad of reasons why victims don’t leave their abusers, including children, finances, and homelessness.
Domestic abuse does not always leave a physical scar. According to Looper, some indicators of domestic abuse victims include avoiding eye contact, apologizing frequently, and being heavily dependent on their partners.
Abusers and their victims could be anyone. But people can change, and so can the narrative surrounding abuse.