I lost one and didn't know it

Just a moment ago I was sitting in my office with a strong urge to kick and break the couch sitting next to my door. I wanted to swing at the air and hit it hard. Yeah, just like Cuba Gooding Jr. in Boys In The Hood. I felt like swinging at the air for the same reason Trey did. I lost one. I lost a friend.

The difference though is that I did not know I lost a friend until close to a year after he was gone. I received a facebook friend request from a woman in San Francisco yesterday. She asked me if I attended A.P. Giannini middle school. I was like 'wow, really?'. I went to AP for the first semester of 6th grade before I transferred to my other middle school. So I have no clue who this woman is right. She says she noticed me from my facebook picture. Tells you how much I aged right? I have locks now and I was rocking fades and s-curls in 6th grade.

Anyway she says we had Ms. Jackson's class with Gregory and Megan. I responded that I don't remember Ms. Jackson or Megan, but that I remember Gregory. Gregory and I lived on the same street in Hunter's Point (HP) and we were real cool. The initials HP become significant later. It was me, Gregory, Milk and Norte. Norte went to a different school though. Private I think - grandmother was real religious. So at the school we were bused to, it was me, Gregory and Milk. The four of us were good friends in 6th grade and I have probably seen them no more than 4 times since then. I don't even remember Milk's real name. My memory has its issues though. But I still remember that Gregory and Milk presented me with a nickname on the hoop court one day at school - Loomskoom. Ridiculous in my view but they thought it ridiculous to go by my other nickname of Uncle Lumas. They just couldn't see it, me being shorter than them and all I guess. But they asked until I gave in and let them role with the Loomskoom. But of course no other people on the planet could call me that. Anyway we lost touch soon as I moved four blocks away and went to a closer school.

I often wondered about Gregory, Norte and Milk though. All of them were funny and characters. We kept each other laughing all the time. Seeing them years later was like watching boys grow into men over night. I wasn't there for the transformation so to just see them as young men was amazing for some reason. Everytime I ran into one of them, whether they be locked in the dope game or on a work grind it always felt good to run into them. Cause no matter what they were into, when we saw each other we could see the young innocence and fearless idealism we had as kids about life and the future. We did not see who we had become in terms of occupation or lack thereof, we saw people, human beings, brothas. That's who we saw and that's who we were. And maybe that is why we did not make it a point to stay in touch, maybe we wanted to hold onto our memories more than we wanted to hold onto each other. Or maybe that is just my story. Or maybe the other part of the story is that we were so caught up in who we became or were becoming that we forgot to take who we are with us. Whenever I think about my work and my purpose in life I think about my brothas and sistas Milk, Norty and Gregory, Frank, Marvell, Jermaine, Kizzy, Erica and a whole list of other people I lost touch with that I saw enourmous gifts in. So you can imagine how excited I was to hear that someone contacting me remembered Gregory. If so you may also imagine how heart shattering it is to know that I will never run into Gregory again.

My new facebook friend told me that Gregory passed just last year, found him in Sunnydale projects in San Francisco in an abandon housing unit, shot. I'll never look upon Gregory's face again. Probably never see a picture of him or meet any of his family. Yeah, I don't know what he was into or who he had became. But I have learned that no matter what you learn along the way, what was created in you at birth is not something that deserves such a death. I don't even know if he was married or had children. Not sure if I want to know any of it. Cause for me right now all I know and all I can picture is that my 12 year old friend was gunned down in an abandon project building. Somebody killed my friend who was a special person. Not just to me, but to the world. He was a light in this world at one point.

I work today so that I can assist young people in exposing more of their light rather than letting the world scare them into dimming it. I work so that children and adolescents and young adults may bask in the beauty of their own light and others, rather than hide it as though they should be ashamed of their gifts and talents. I went through college and graduate school and received pieces of paper called a diploma and attached three letters and two periods to the end of my name so that I could stop losing loved ones and friends to the disposal systems of our society, death, incarceration, homelessness and poverty. And not it is not my degrees that keep me warm at night, unless you count the fact that my degree got me my job which give me a check that keeps my heat warm and pays for my home. Then I guess my degrees do keep me warm. But the degrees in the wake of a friends death also serves to keep me perplexed.

My first week of graduate school I lost my cousin Marvell to a shooting as well. When I switched from AP to my other middles school it was so I could be closer to home but also so I could be in the same school with my cousin Marvell. A year older and 20 years cooler he could look after me as I learned about San Francisco. We had just moved to San Francisco a little over a year prior. Marvell was the cousin I was closest to in middle school. Another beautiful spirit and fun person to be around. Lost him the very week I was to begin a journey that I pray leads to protecting and developing our people.

And here I am at the age of 30 with the very job I aspired to have that I thought would put me in a position to do what I set out to do. I found out about Gregory today as I was in the middle of working with a 10th grader on an upcoming speech he has to give in class at a high school in Detroit. The speech is titled "The Real Me." His goal is to give an informative speech on how he is different than the other people in his neighborhood of Highland Park (HP). I shared with him the story I share with you. How I grew up in a place called HP and worked so that I could give back to youth in HP someday. So I feel especially responsible and humbled by the opportunity to work with youth from Highland Park. And I find it so ironic that I get a facebook text message about Gregory's passing as I sit in front of a young man telling me how he is different from those who don't care and who carry guns in HP.

Immediately I kept my cool and focused on the life in front of me that deserved my attention and time. Why or how? Yeah I am cool in demeanor, and yes Gregory was now a distant friend. But the reason was, I was numb. But later, once I settled into the van ride back to the ivory tower, I thought a great deal about Gregory. I talked to a friend about him. And I even called some other friends to talk some more, which I rarely do in times like this. But no one answered right then. That is when it came over me. The frustration and ANGER and SICK AND TIREDNESS of all that my people go through and live with. Not angry at myself and not reflecting on my role. Not yet. I am angry that here I am at the age of 30 and still I lost another one, young. Angry that HP lost another son, and Black America lost another father when we need some so many more.

It is killing our sons and killing our daughters. It is out there. I say it because I do not believe healthy human beings kill human beings. I can no longer believe that. By the time one achieves murder they have long lost touch with what it means to be a living being and what humanity is. By that time they have long been lost and are long past the point where they learned that which should have not been taught. So I am angry at IT.

But when I have lost one, the day has possibly given me two. I spoke to you briefly about the one young man who aspires to tell his class about the real him. Today I was reminded of another.

One of my mentees recently acquired custody of her younger brother because her parents were no longer around to do so. Naturally her 15 year old brother became mine and she asked that I be of support to the two of them. I humbly and graciously accepted the honor and responsibility. This young teenage boy was wise in his assessment of the cruel environment he had been entrenched but unfortunately had conceded to a belief that he would not live long and should not care whether he did or not.

I spoke with him once and knew that if we continued to meet I may push him too fast or too hard OR could give him just the push he needed to develop a healthy perspective on life. He was in a fragile state and transitory state. I knew it, but that never changes how thin the line is between success and failure. The bottom line is that it was more on him than I or anyone else. His sister was phenomenal in how she worked to try to reach him, be there consistently, and deal with the pressure and stress in the best possible means imaginable. She was patient and diligent in consulting advice and surrounding him with various role models he could choose from. She also provided him with other resources in and outside of school. I mean she handled this like she was a social worker. As a junior in college she met with teachers and state officials to advocate for her and her brother. I embellish nothing and it should be noted that what she did could not be adequaltely described here.

But again it comes down to the fact that it is he that decides the outcome and it is his troubled past that threatens his perception with failure and pain. Her brother ran away just before Thanksgiving, approximately three months after he moved in with his sister. He had no one to turn to so it was likely that he was homeless on the streets. Upon finding out I had, not conflicted emotions, but mixed emotions. A mix of empathy for the boy, sorrow for his sister, anger at the system and myself, shame and doubt about my role, pride for the sister, envious of the boy's blissful ignorance that would allow him to walk beyond the margins of our world, and I am sure a slew of other emotions that I ran from exploring.

Today my mentees walked into my office and shared with me a gift of the story of her younger brother returning home. She ran into him on her way to the post office and simply told him that he could return home and that she wants to continue to take care of him. He returned!

This I found out before I found out about Gregory. So what does it mean when the silver lining comes before the dark clouds? Then again Gregory has been gone for some time and I just didn't know it. So perhaps it is that sometimes the darkness comes first to push us to search for a light to turn on or brighten up. And so maybe today God wanted me to see these two lights the same way I saw Gregory's or Marvell's. That's what I hope because I have to. A prisoner of hope...yeah. A bit better than a prisoner of despair.

I miss you Marvell and I miss you Gregory. I know who you are and I know who I am, and this time I will take that with me. Peace be unto you. I love you.

So Many Ways

I know I have grown in many ways to be able to contribute to the struggle. The struggle for equity for all people, especially Black people. The struggle for humanity in which we work against our fellow human beings to move them towards working with us all to achieve the potential of true humanity. True humanity being the act of actualizing equity in freedom for all. Know that the title of this post is not about the many ways in which I have grown.

How do I know I have grown? Because today I am able to go into work and ride emotional roller coasters without it weakening my spirit, dampening my creative flow, or disheartening my love for all of my sisters and brothers of the world. Emotional roller coasters? At work? In case some of you do not know what I do, I am the lead coordinator/project director for the pre-college program GEAR UP (GU) at the University of Michigan - Ann Arbor. In this roll alone I have grown in many ways. Again the title of this post "So Many Ways" is not about the many ways in which I have grown.

My work allows me to work with students (whom we call futurez), teachers, school administrators, and parents among others. Typically the emotional roller coasters come when I am interacting with those just mentioned. What I mean is best illustrated through an example. This past Thursday I went to one of our GU schools to participate in a career day. The introduction to the day showed how promising a day it would be. The schools library was wonderful (to me who has spent time in the dim stacks of the UGLY at Michigan). Tall stacks lined the wall of this spacious open bright library. Smaller stacks and study tables were scattered throughout the center of the library. One of the four walls of the library was actually a long floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the schools lunch room one floor below and the area adjacent to the lunch room that looked like a mini green room with plants featured from a rain forest and accompanied by a small water fall. This school is in Highland Park (HP), Michigan. For those of you who know a little about folks perceptions of present day HP you may be surprised by my description. But if you knew of the rich history of HP you would not be surprised to find such a building in HP.

Okay back to the day. Each professional participating in the career day was assigned a ROTC student as a chaperon to walk us around to classrooms where we would present individually for 20 minutes. Experience in Classroom 1: No one was there. But that was not bad because that's when the chaperon and I realized that I was actually on the schedule for the 2nd round of presentations. And I know that was because I told the organizers (the 2 hardworking counselors that bring bright and committed spirits to the work and the students) that I would be coming a little later. So when we returned to the library the counselors sent us to a room of someone who had not shown up. Experience in Classroom 2: Someone was already in there presenting. No sweat though, something like this is bound to happen on career day when some people don't show up. I was just glad it happen to me because I know the counselors and know that this was in no way a reflection on them just the mishaps of any career day.

Experience in Classroom 3: Entering this classroom was like I had walked through a dimension portal. If any of you have read "Zapp" a book on leadership and management, it was like I entered the 12th dimension and was seeing the exaggerated picture of some part of America's education system that needed some serious attention and improvement. The closed door to the classroom had a a small window that is reminiscent of the window to a padded cell. Inside the classroom that opened to the left the lighting was gloomily dim but strangely there seemed to be some light concentrated in the immediate left hand corner. It was an old lamp seated on top of a file cabinet. As I walked in the teacher called for her students' attention and directed them to get into their seats and listen to my presentation. The, approximately, 12 students sat in their seats quickly and quietly and were attentively awaiting for me to finish. Or so it seemed because their eyes did not speak excitement. Their eyes seemed to speak to me and say "... nothing." They had no expectations as was echoed by the young man who sat slouched in his seat sideways and legs sprawled apart, head cocked sideways and leaning back on the wall that his desk was aligned to. Eyes beset on me of no excitement but no disdain, no welcome but no dismissal. All in all I respect that. It's like me when I listen to a new rap artist. Give me what you got and I will respond accordingly. After all I am sure the students did not request my presence and their own teacher had not seen nor hear of me before that moment. Seated in the back of the room to the right was a young boy in a Michigan State University hooded sweater (green with white writing). Slightly slouched in his posture and his afro mashed on both sides as though I had interrupted his morning nap. But he was looking directly at me awaiting my delivery. But for some reason I can't stop thinking about that student, in that sweater, in that classroom, in that school, in that district, in HP which is surrounded by Detroit. I can't stop thinking about that student seated in two cities in economic turmoil, amidst a country of increasing segregation and disparities. The contradiction of a system, his audacity, his obliviousness, the hypocrisy of my 20 minute visit to inspire a group, the lie of a nation to say no child is left behind. But dammit that's the struggle!

So after taking in the scenery I went into my spiel. Rather than simply selling the career of a director I couched my work in a discussion on the increasing value of a degree and added value of a graduate degree. In trying to communicate how any job has value to society (be it garbage pick up, custodian, or drive-thru attendant) I asked students to point out jobs they thought were of no value in our society. Then in the middle of our conversation one student remarks that a teacher is a role in society that has no value. Everyone looked at him like he lost his helmet and slippers. But of course he was expressing his frustration with our system of education or maybe his frustration with his teacher (which is a representation of our system because though I know absolutely nothing about her teaching I doubt she is uniquely different so as too discount my generalization to teaching in general just as the student did). This is the second student I cannot stop thinking about. The student that devalues teachers and yet comes to class and listens to his teacher and some random presenter (that's me y'all). That paradox and yes the struggle!! My emotions : I felt insufficient and powerless, and slightly sad and hurt (but knew I had to shrug it off before it made me develop a cough that would interrupt my talk in the next class). I thank you God and students for that time.

Experience in Classroom 4: This room also opened to the left but was brighter, though not as bright as the library. This room was also bigger and about 24 desks (12 on each side of the room) were facing the middle of the room. Characteristic of all the classrooms I entered, the chalk board was floor-to-ceiling. I personally think that is tight; says there is a lot to learn. As the chaperon and I walked in some students were at the teachers desk asking some questions just before they hurried out to their next class. Entering the class behind me was three students. The teacher informed me that we were awaiting one more student that may not show so I should go ahead and get started. Never being one to show surprise I went ahead and asked the three of four students in this class to create a circle so we could have a more personal atmosphere to converse in. As it turns out this was the entrepreneurship class. These students definitely had high expectations and ambitions. One wanted to own his own company because he wants to direct others. One young lady wants to be a therapist/psychiatrist. The other young lady does not know specifically but does want to make 'Bill Gates' money. My chaperon wants to be the dean of a college. Coincidentally his shy, coy, frank, and lukewarm but clearly caring personal demeanor makes him a shoe in for a college dean. The conversation went great and the students shared their hopes and asked some very good questions. Their eyes also spoke about the hope and expectation they had for a future. Their body language and confidence of their voices spoke of their diligence and belief in self. My emotions : I felt real good y'all. I thank you God and students for that time.

Experience in Classroom 5: This classroom also opened to the left and was about the size of classroom 4. All desks faced the front of the classroom which was on the end with the door. The teacher eagerly invited me in. Turns out this was Spanish. this classroom was the brightest of all all classrooms I entered. There were approximately 24 students and all desks were filled. Over to the far most right up front was the class clown seated next to a caring friend who kept him in check so he would not be too disruptive. She seemed to be a friend and social coach as it were. To the far most left seated against the wall in the last two seats of that row were the sleepers. Next to the sleeper at the back of the room against the wall was the silent rebel (he would not respond back "buenos dios"). Other than the sleepers all of the students were attentive and alert. The students here shared with me their goals and why they sought particular careers. They seemed genuine and real and I noticed something else. Something that - now that I think about it - I have noticed with the students I meet with weekly. The discussion was moving too slow for them. You could see moments of boredom flash across their face and just as quick as the moment came you would see them do a mental check and return to attention to ensure they grasped and gleaned information appropriate to their needs. I heard no talk of sports as the primary goal. They all seemed to be in agreement with my focus on the 4 P's of career thinking; Pay, People, Purpose and Preparation. They all grabbed for the college guides I brought and the Black Celeb (celebration of students of African descent at UofM) graduation program booklet which I hope will inspire them in some small way. My emotions : feeling good but punked by time. More time is what I wanted but time punked me y'all and told me get out. I thank you God and students for that time.

Experience in Classroom 5 after students left: After the students left the teacher began to share with me her frustrations of her semester teaching Spanish in a high school after teaching elementary for almost her whole educational tenure (over 15 years, I don't remember the number). As she was speaking I noticed her allergies were acting up and her eyes got watery. I thought she may be starting to... but nooo... her voice was not quivering and or changing in any way. But then a few moments later the tears strolled down her cheek one at a time, unraveling like someone throwing a coiled rope down from a tower window inviting me to come in and see the view from within. Her pain, her frustration, her helplessness, the experience that gave her clarity of the reality of the times we live in, her bewilderment of why times are as they are, her state of oblivion evidence by the fact she never formulated any question as to what can or should be done, my realization that this is the struggle!!! My emotions : I felt insufficient, I felt awkward, I felt passionate, I felt the love, I felt like I had to leave and immediately begin a movement so my Spanish sister and other teachers would not ever have to cry out like she has to. And then I felt like I do everyday, like a man staring at a desert thinking of which direction to walk in my search for an oasis for my people, my fellow human beings. I thank you God and students and teachers for that time!!!

I went back to the library and had lunch with the counselors and enjoyed the company of beautiful people and fellow colleagues and shared little of my experience in the classroom. The library was just as bright and bustling as it was in the morning. Professionals were mingling but were as segregated according to careers as we are in society where physical places of employment keep us apart. But it seemed that no matter what circles you looked at you would see people smiling. And everyone would leave to return again in a year as though a yearly visit would brighten up all the dark spaces in the school. Band-aids and gauze on a bleeding artery - we are all truly American!

That day was an emotional roller coaster. I want even go into how that roller coaster continued once I got back to my office and engaged in troubleshooting, coaching, and politicking. The point is I have learned to keep on rolling with the punches. I have learned to not let the small things add up to weigh me down. I have learned that the struggle is bigger than my emotions. I have learned the responsibility of the blessings bestowed upon me are bigger than my desires for rest. I have learned that conditioning myself for diligence is just as important as praying for diligence. But the title of this post does not relate to the many ways in which I have grown. It relates to the many obstacles and challenges to the struggle and my attempts to work toward progress. There are so many ways that I and all others in the struggle are attacked. And therefore for those of us who are strong enough and dedicated and passionated enough there are so many fires that forge stronger warriors, wiser leaders, increasingly loving mentors, protectors, and healers. I have learned there are so many ways the weak inequitors (contributors to inequity) try to keep us down that only serve to build us up.

In the song "Changing Times" by Maze, Frankie Beverly sings "We'll get through these changing times." That is a motto that works for me on a very personal day to day level. Thank you God and Maze for that time. But in relation to America, our schools and communities are still segregated and Blacks still are the victims of oppression and Whites are still the benefactors of that abolished slavery and greatest (but not sole) benefactors of present day cheap labor. So from reconstruction to now, what the fuck has really changed? Looking at today's numbers, not enough I promise you that.

Frankie Beverly, in the Maze song "Time is on My Side" sings "Time is on our side. Oh Yeah!!!!" I have to believe it is. Because time is all that I know I have. When I have no more I am no more and nothing is of consequence. So while there is time, while I have time, everything I do and everything you do and spend time doing or not doing is of consequence. So get off yo' ass and do something about the struggle. And when you see me tell me the same. I thank God, thank Maze and thank you for the time. And I thank the inequitors for the so many fires that will come back to burn you!

Collaboration, Competition and Community voice in School Reform?

Steve Barr seems to be an aggressive reformer of school districts. The founder and leader of Green Dot Schools in Los Angelos, Barr believes that the answer to improving school districts is collaboration or competition. I was introduced to Steve Barr and his Green Dot schools through an article by Amber Arellano in the Detroit April 15, 2008.

My immediate thoughts are questions; which I think is good. The questions are these in no particular order. What does inner-city/urban school reform means after the new wave of gentrification that is moving poorer communities outside of cities? Barr comments on how people in communities he works with want to hug him and become emotional because no one usually asks them to participate in their community. We all, academics to be sure, others of us who know a little about community organizing, know that empowering community members is the key to community change. Then why is that not the standard practice for our educational and state institutions? As the global economy has forgotten about the factory worker, has the country forgotten about its base, its communities? Have we forgotten that it ALL starts with unity on the block, brotherhood and sisterhood on the block, the peoples demands being voiced and met? I think we have.

In the shadows of terrorism battles and increased government control we have been immobilized by fear. In the governments attempt to protect the people they have crippled its only real strength. The people should lead the government because the people are who make the country what it is. But when the people are afraid, lacking in training for community and civic engagement, and too hurried and busy working for health-care and livable wages then the people are ill-prepared to be the citizens they need to be.

The voice of the people should never be seen as in opposition of the government. Because when that is the case then we know that the government is not one of or for the people. This is why at his introduction through Arellano's article, Steve Barr seems to have some pieces of the puzzle right. Collaborate with public schools, and if they hear us not, then compete but at either stage or level we must include the community. We must empower the community. Some may argue that few can do it, as most who do are characterized as dogmatic or charismatic. Well all of us may not feel we have those "-matics" but want to start something, want to be part of something. Do we wait? Do I wait? I guess I can't because my message to others who have asked me has always been, it is the responsibility of those who recognize a need to work to fulfill the deed. So I try.