Blogging from inside “The New School Occupation.”
They’ve turned the cafeteria of the GF building into a public space, pushed all the tables off to the side of the room.
Kids are painting banners on the floor, played music from their laptops, sipping whiskey from flasks.
A crowd of supporters in on the street out front, yelling and marching in support.
Security won’t let anyone in or out, periodic threats occurring from the NYPD of impending arrest–but it seems unlikely.
There’s too many students here, and they’re rowdy but peaceful.
Earlier today, the kids took the building. They barricaded the fire entrance with crates and canvas, before security charged in. Picked up a girl that was sitting on a crate and threw her against the floor. Someone got it on video.
Civil lawyers on site.
They’ve closed down every other New School building.
The goal of all of this is to get Bob Kerrey to resign.
Last week, 95% of the faculty voted no confidence in him when he appointed himself Provost.
Graduate students of the NSSR met on Sunday and formulated a list of complaints: lack of fiscal transparency, and emphasized on commercialism and branding-making instead of on nurturing an academic community are, for me, real problems that need to be addressed.
The New School was established on progressive intellectual thought and social justice. It was a safe haven for the exiled.
Bob Kerrey is not the right person to be running this institution, but some of this is out of hand. When he passes by the plate glass windows (all of our rooms here are fishbowls, and that needs reform too–but that’s another story) students press up against the glass yelling “War Criminal!” in unison. Mean-spirited taunting will not get student demands met any faster, and it makes us look irresponsible and immature.
I don’t like the provocation, but I think it’s incredible to see how many people showed up in solidarity–including students at consortium schools across New York City. Students should have the right to yell, to organize, to ask for change. The kids in this room are passionate, if nothing else; some have been here for 44 hours.
Glorified revolution is part the equation here, I know, but coming from a generation known for emphatic emotional detachment–this spirited commotion is a welcome change from apathy.
But it’s not as romantic as it sounds. It’s hot, everyone smells, and they just cut off our access to the bathroom.
