ART OF THE EDUCATOR 2025 - MoMA
The Art of the Educator is an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York City that showcases the art of New York City public school teachers. The 2025 exhibition runs from March 10 to April 27
Being both an artist and educator can feel natural, but connecting the two roles meaningfully isn't always straightforward.
Sometimes, educators feel they must leave their artist identities behind when they enter the classroom. Nevertheless, their artistic practice remains a vital part of their identity and enriches the education they provide.
The Art of the Educator celebrates the artistic talents of public school teachers in New York City and highlights how their artwork reflects the excellence they bring to their students every day. To present this exhibition, MoMA's Young Learners team has proudly collaborated with the New York City Art Teachers Association/United Federation of Teachers, which supports art educators and advocates for quality art programs.
By hosting events to showcase student and educator work and recognize artist-teachers, NYCATA/UFT promotes the importance of art education for all students.
https://www.moma.org/calendar/exhibitions/5806
The artwork “TORRES” from the Alternate Sides Art Project was included in the exhibition.
Acrylic on modular wood blocks + collage media (fish hook)
18 x 24” (approx framed)
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My thoughts of Puerto Rico are always filled with nostalgia. Having been raised in the U.S., I often turn to family photos as a window into my culture, a way to reconnect with my roots.
My father rarely speaks of his childhood, but every so often, he shares a small detail—a glimpse into our family history. He once told me about a visit to his grandparents in Villalba, Puerto Rico. He spent the night there with his father and younger sister. At dawn, he woke to the sound of his grandfather, Don Ramón, singing Jíbaro music as he milked a cow. The sound of his singing mixed with the crowing of the morning roosters. As my father recounted this story, it reminded me of when I would visit my mother’s parents in the hills of Yauco, waking to the lowing of cattle and the earthy scent of damp grass and warm soil.
My grandfather spent a portion of his life in New Jersey, and we would visit him around the holidays. He was an avid fisherman. I remember one trip when my father, my grandfather, and I took a charter boat from Orient Point, Long Island. That day, we caught 94 porgies. But the most memorable catch was my grandfather’s—a small black shark with green eyes. I remember him pulling the line up as the shark stared at me, its gaze steady and unblinking. For a moment, I felt as if it were studying me as much as I was studying it. Then, with a quiet certainty, my grandfather released it back into the ocean. That day, I learned how to spot a group of fish feeding at the surface, the ripples in the water revealing the best place to cast a line. My grandfather’s patience, his knowing way with the sea, stayed with me.
In his later years, he returned to Puerto Rico, settling in Cabo Rojo. Even in old age, he would take his small blue fishing boat out onto the water. The paint, faded by the sun, seemed to merge with the crystal-clear waves it navigated. I never got to see him use it, but when I visited, it sat in his marquesina, waiting. His life in Cabo Rojo felt peaceful, simpler—far from the hurried pace of the states.
We didn’t communicate much, which I often regret, but I find comfort in the memories I do have. Though we spoke little, I hold onto these moments as a way to connect with him even now. I believe that whatever Native Taíno blood runs through me comes from his side of the family. While researching, I found my great-grandfather Don Ramón’s draft card—it listed his race as Indio. Seeing that document felt like discovering a tangible link to the Taíno roots I always felt. My art has come to serve as a form of deep study, a way to trace and honor my family’s history.