City Year Program Uses Performance to Spark Interest in the World Beyond High School

Nervous laughter echoed in the James Madison Academic Campus’s auditorium before Tiff Polzin’s students took the stage. Stragglers in the small group are ushered away from messing around with the piano, which is missing a few keys that chime like an uncomfortable chuckle, and banished to the edge of the stage near the stairs.

Polzin, a 22-year-old with auburn hair and poise that comes from years of musical theater, stood in front of the stage, a conductor trying to catch the attention of her orchestra. Instead of musicians, she worked with two JMAC freshmen and two UW-Milwaukee Honors College students. Her audience: a few of her fellow City Year tutors, all identifiable by their uniform of black pants, gray polos, and red jackets with “CITY YEAR” emblazoned across the back in black block letters. 

Her students worked on finding the rhythm of a choreopoem—a form of dramatic expression that combines poetry, dance, music, and song—they wrote about the end of the school year. During the following fifteen minutes, the auditorium—an expanse of 1970s-era red brick, JMAC forest green curtains, and pale pine seats that squeaked when pried open—transformed from a space the freshmen had never explored to the site of the school’s Louder Than a Bomb performance.

Louder Than a Bomb—now called the Rooted & Radical Youth Poetry Festival—is a poetry slam and curriculum created by a few Chicago Public School teachers in 2001. The teachers developed it to amplify the voices of students of color, Polzin said.

In collaboration with UW-Milwaukee Honors College staff, Polzin and her City Year partner Traveria Evans organized the two-day, after-school poetry workshop to encourage their students to think about life after high school and help them get a better understanding of what college is like.

“One of the main problems that I noted at Madison was that our students didn’t have a clear picture of college in their mind,” Polzin said. “I realized the number of models they have for college graduates is less than what I was exposed to. I wanted them to realize that they’re number one incredibly capable of going to college if that’s what they want to do.” 

Only 40% of high school graduates in Milwaukee will enroll in college, and only 12% will earn a two- or four-year degree, according to data from All-In Milwaukee, a coalition of education partners focused on helping limited-income students graduate college.

Evans, a first-generation college student and Milwaukee Public Schools graduate, said she understands the importance of being exposed to the idea and realities of college at a young age. She grew up going to her community center, which she said taught her the importance of education.

“I went to a historically black college, but I only found out about it, because in eighth grade, I went on a college tour,” said Evans, 24, who attended Fisk University in Nashville. “I didn’t know about college before that. I probably wouldn’t have gone without that exposure.”

Polzin and Evans work for City Year Milwaukee, an AmeriCorps affiliate designed to serve in “schools all day, every…and [prepare] student with the social, emotional and academic skills and mindsets to succeed in school and life,” according to the website. Both women are working at City Year as part of a service gap year before going to grad school. Employees, who are 18-25, work in a public school for year-long terms.

The women and their colleagues tutor students in an old chemistry lab converted into an educational sanctuary. Half-finished puzzles are scattered across some of the tables, colorful posters of Black icons have been taped on the walls and fairy lights illuminate the chalkboard. Pillows and a blanket comprise a napping space along the back wall.

On the first day of the workshop, two Honors College students, who volunteered to help at the event, and Polzin’s students brainstormed choreopoem ideas and did some writing exercises in the City Year room. Then, a small panel of Honors College professors—Jill Budny, David Southward, and Lindsay Daigle—answered questions about college prep and collegiate academics from the high school students.

For Polzin, who describes education as her home, going to college was always a plan, and she organized her schedule and classes around that goal. Polzin recognized many of her students have not had the same informational resources as she did, so she reached out to Budny, faculty advisor of the Honors Equity Team, to brainstorm collaborations.

Budny, who is also assistant director of the Honors College, jumped at the opportunity to work with Polzin and connect with another local high school, which has been one of her goals. Along with the Honors Equity Team, Budny has been working with teachers within the Milwaukee area to give students a chance to learn more about college and feel like they can belong there.

“The whole goal is to create opportunities for students and especially students who are historically underrepresented,” Budny said. “I think a lot of people might not think of college as something that’s for them because their society tells them, you know, that they aren’t right for college or see it as a predominantly white space.”

Over 50% of Milwaukee Public Schools students are Black, and nearly 30% are Hispanic, according to 2019 district demographics reports. The data also found that 98% of the student body of JMAC is Black, which is higher than the Wisconsin state average of 32% (majority Hispanic and Black).

On the second day of the workshop, the students wrote and performed the choreopoem in the City Year classroom.

“I’m proud that we stood up on stage because it’s hard,” said Aviva Hurwitz, 18, a participating UW-Milwaukee freshman and Honors student. “Hopefully, the kids came away more confident than they were before.”

Polzin and Evans became self-described stage moms as they helped the students with their lines and reminded them to lower the scripts from covering their faces during rehearsal and the final, recorded performance.

Pursuing a Master of Education with applied child studies with an emphasis on poverty and intervention, Evans’ dream is to run her own community center with an apartment complex attached. She wants to provide job development services, educational programs, and emotional support for communities like the ones in the 53206 zip code where she grew up.

Evans knows that college is not for everyone, but she believes all students should know that it is an option—and one that they can succeed in if they choose. She believes bringing in college students and staff of various backgrounds, like the members of the Honors College, is a good way to broaden her students’ worldviews.

“Something like this poetry workshop needs to happen again,” Evans said. “I’m in a position to help younger kids get that exposure or have information about things they’ve never experienced—it’s a part of giving back. The importance just lies in being black and the intersectionality of being black and poor and a woman; education is important for those reasons, right?”

Once the commotion of the performance died down and students disappeared down JMAC’s mint and white hallways, Polzin could not stop smiling. She debriefed with Evans, packed up her stuff, and threw on her City Year jacket—all the while, she was smiling in a way that lit up her blue eyes from behind her gold and tortoise shell glasses.

The Louder Than a Bomb workshop was a success by Evans and Polzin’s accounts.

“I accomplished what I wanted to because I saw the confidence in the students grow and their ability to interact with college students change,” Polzin said, smiling after a beat of silence. “It helps me feel assured that they realize how capable they are of collaborating with collegiate students, which can only bolster their confidence in their own intelligence. I don’t think they get to feel recognized as intelligent often enough.”