*Warning: explicit language

He just showed up in class six weeks ago, a young black man from North Carolina. He is one of five kids of color in my fourth period class, and the only black kid. He introduced himself as Jaheem. Soft spoken, he shared that he was out here living with his cousin and her husband who are stationed here at Fairchild Air Force Base. I welcomed him to class, quietly wondering how he felt in his new environment. And I also wondered about the circumstances that placed him here, three-thousand miles away from home, away from his family. But I left it at wonder; I didn’t want to pry.

It was two days before we started state testing, and we were just getting started on our introductions for our Be A Voice speeches. I asked him to think of a topic, encouraging him to list out things that made him mad, things that made him sad, or things that he wanted to change. I wanted him to find something for which there was some emotional investment, something that he needed to get off his chest. He agreed and he set to work listing out things that mattered to him. After a time, he came to my desk and shared his list. And while there were a number of things that could have served as topics, one in particular caught my attention for he had included it in all three categories. Rap. I asked him about it. He said, without equivocation, “New rap is trash,” dissing on mumble rap and overly explicit lyrics, lamenting the loss of lyrics that meant something, that told a story. I encouraged him, then, to pursue that, noting not only his knowledge of but also his emotional investment in the topic. He nodded quietly, agreed, and returned to his seat. As he did, it was the first time I noticed his tattoo on his right shoulder, Sandra. And I wondered. Who is Sandra?

And then we started testing; even kids who come to our school the day of testing, we have to test. I apologized to Jaheem for so abruptly throwing him–at least that’s what it felt like–into the mix. Welcome to Washington. Welcome to CHS. Here take this test. It will determine your future. If you don’t pass it, you will not graduate from high school. As many of you know, I already have issues with standardized testing, but this really rubbed me the wrong way; even so, there was nothing I could do about it. Jaheem had to take the test. He did. But he struggled, saying he had never done anything like it before. I empathized and told him just to do what he could. He was the first one done. It didn’t even take him two days, and I knew that he likely didn’t pass. I thanked him for completing the test, and asked him to read or work on his essay while the rest of the kids continued testing. He read some. He wrote some. And he slept a lot. And I let him. And as he slept with his head on his desk, his shirt sleeve slid up, and again, I spied “Sandra” on his arm, and I wondered. Who is Sandra?

Time got on and we finished testing. And I was getting to know Jaheem. I found him a polite young man, full of wisdom for one so young, and I was glad he was getting comfortable with me and the class. He didn’t share much during Smiles and Frowns at first, but now he was sharing every day, and we were getting to know the young man from North Carolina. One day he got to class early, and I noticed a twinkle in his eye, and he came straight to me, asking if I knew what “Build a Bear” was. I nodded. He continued. “I built one for my Mama, this weekend. I even recorded my voice saying, ‘I love you, Mama,’ so when she pushes the button she will hear me. I am sending it to her for Mother’s Day.” He was so proud, and I was pleased that he wanted to share that with me. Things seemed to be going well for Jaheem. And not for the first time, I wondered if Sandra was Mom.

And then the test scores started coming in. And Jaheem did not pass. He wasn’t even close. But now, only a month after he arrived, he found himself in a hole, at a deficit, for the hill to graduation just got real steep. He had been labeled and sorted. Just like that. And though I wasn’t surprised–very few kids can take it so quickly and pass–I was concerned for this young man whom I had gotten to know, who had showed that he was more than a score. But the data base would not, could not reveal that truth. So, I was truly bummed when I shared the news with him, trying to be upbeat about it, letting him know that there would be other chances for him to pass. But pass what? Pass an institutionalized, standardized measurement that claims to know the weight of his worth? What about the things the test can’t measure? Do they not count? Look at Jaheem’s rough-draft introduction below. Is there not more to this young man than a score on a test? Does he not seem to know the way of things? (I allowed the explicit language. Heck, I encouraged it. It’s authentic. Truth has to be).

“ just fucked a bitch i forgot her name “ is that what lil pump has in mind when he think of women in society today ? well how about when ugly god once repeated bitch throughout one of his songs repeatedly is that how he feel about females these days ? well i think that’s not how we should treat our younger generation of females or any females at all. A very inspirational rapper once said “ a women once brung you into this world why disrespect one – tupac shakur “ see the difference between these rap generations? I think the new generation of rap should slow down on disrespecting women that they claim they respect. They claim they respect there mother, their daughters, grandmas and aunts but yet still disrespect them by using words or even saying hurtful verses to disrespect any female.

 

I am not sure if Jaheem will be here next year. I am not sure if he will pass the test. I am not sure if he will graduate. But I am sure that he is more than a score. And I have tried to let him know that. And I think he knows, but in truth I think it’s not the most important thing in his life right now. He is here. He is not at home. I now know why. I think he wanted me to know the story, so he told me, but it is not mine to repeat, so I won’t. But I can share who Sandra is. I finally asked. “That’s my Mama, Sy. That’s my Mama.”

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns

…work on our voices, share our truths.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all. Sorry if the language offended. Hope you understand why I left it as is.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.