In the Spring of 2014, I stepped into a classroom as an instructor for the first time. In these early days, I was merely a substitute for an instructor who'd taken over the Cartooning Class from the prior teacher, who had left mid-semester.
Being this was late Spring, Summer was upon us in no time. With several sub stints under my belt, and with the temporary cartooning instructor's blessing, I was slated to take over the Friday Cartooning Class come Fall 2014. That September, a Comic Book Class was added on Tuesday. By 2015, both classes were Cartooning Classes. By 2017, the Thursday Class opened to give the Waiting List kids another option. Almost immediately, all three classes were full.
Which posed a problem.
You see, the Cartooning Class lends itself to a certain kind of kid, just as an "Inspired by the Dutch Golden Age" painting class, or a "Shades of Blades of Grass" watercolor class might lend themselves to a certain type of person. With three packed classes, we grew into a bit of a nuisance to the artsy-fartsy thespians next door... or across the hall... or on the other side of the building (our main foe was the Fashion Design Class next door). It was an accusation we wore proudly. Art-ing should be fun and engaging.
Nearly every week, the Executive Director warned us to "keep it down". And, every week we pretended to listen. This includes the famous "Silent Class", where she interrupted us so early in the session, I decided to have a no-talking, all-mime class. It was great fun, until she walked in to see if we were actually still in the classroom, and realized we were mocking her command.
And Then, Everything Stopped
March of 2020 will always be remembered as a period of numbness, indecisiveness, and social paralysis. Two weeks prior, we had a full class of kids who hit the sink to wash their hands more than they assaulted the vending machine. The week prior, only a third of the students were present, with Los Angeles only days away from a full shutdown.
March 13, 2020 was the last official TOC (The Old Class). But like the Phoenix of Greek Mythology, the BACCO rose from the figurative ashes of our stagnant society. It's amazing what a computer, a 1080p camcorder, and a few LED lights can do to transform a corner of an apartment into a broadcast art set.
Bureaucratic "Best Practices"? How about just pin your ears back and go for it. In a pivot that would make a savvy politician jealous, the BACCO was up and running on Zoom... and it's been on Zoom ever since.
As 2022 brought a sense of normalcy back to our lives, BACCO looks to broaden its horizon, so to speak. Where Zoom once presented a perfect platform during the height of the Pandemic, it's now a perfect platform to reach past Los Angeles, SoCal, or even into other countries. Students from Cali, Canada, or that place where some dude named Shakespeare once lived can all come together as a cartooning tribe, adding to the rich history that is the Cartooning Class.
