One Year On...

Going back one year and reading what I wrote at the very beginning of this journey, I can only think of how much things have changed. It's not that the world, or the city we live in have changed, but how perspectives have evolved. It's about the evolution of a youthful idealism to pragmatic realism. It's about growing up and realizing that you can't change the world, but what you can change is what you can control. Perhaps most importantly, it's about giving it your all, and when your all isn't enough, you lay it down and allow God to carry you through.


33 weeks ago, this day - the last day of the school year - was one that seemed too far away. It was a day that seemed like it would never come, simply because I was struggling and trudging along, slowly learning the ropes of a profession I had just entered. However, as I left school for the last time this year, this moment wasn't as joyful and freeing as I had anticipated it to be. It was a bittersweet moment; a moment to ponder and reflect. My experiences this year have molded me and have enabled me to learn more about myself. They have also given me perspective into some of the greatest challenges we face as a society. I came into this job thinking that education was going to change everything - that by giving my kids the education and love they deserved, everything was going to change and somehow, their lives would get better. I'm going to be honest with myself and admit that I came into this thinking that I was here to serve an underserved population that needed outside help. I was wrong.


In some ways, I had a "messiah complex," wanting to come and 'save' these students. However, simply by living in Detroit and spending time with these students, I realized that they didn't need a 'savior.' These children don't need saving - and coming in with that mindset only made my job harder. I was frustrated that I wasn't making a difference, but I realized that my definition of "making a difference" came from my own background and neglected theirs. I realized that this job wasn't about changing lives; it's not my place to change a life. It's not my place to tell a child what to do with their life. It's their life; there's only one person that can change their lives, and that's themselves. They  have their own minds, their own ambitions, and their own identity; it's not my job to create a new identity on their behalf, but to help them create their own. It's not my job to draw their life paths for them, but to provide the tools for them to do so themselves. Wouldn't it be so easy to just tell students what to do? Yes. But would it be effective? No. This isn't our role. Our role is to teach them the values of being a respectful and honorable human being; of being a citizen, a sibling, a child, a friend. Our role is to provide them the opportunities for change, but change itself relies on the student. We can motivate them, engage them, and show them the potential they have, but in the end, they themselves have to have the conviction that change is necessary. It is up to them to make a difference, and it is up to them to define what "making a difference" means. Detroit needs to change in its own way, not how outsiders tell them to. 


Coming into this job and thinking that education was the solution to everything, I was quickly brought back to earth. I was brought back to the reality that there are so many other factors that inhibit the growth of a child. When you are afraid of walking to school by yourself, when you can't do your homework because you don't have electricity, and when you have to skip school because your parents can't take care of your siblings, it's not your fault. When you don't know how to be a man because your father is in jail, when you have to work three days a week because your single mother's three jobs isn't enough to support the family, and when you don't even have a home to return to after school, it's just not your fault. Our kids accept these as their reality - they don't seek to change this because this is simply how life is supposed to be in Detroit. They see this in their lives, in their families, and in their friends' families, so what's so bad about it? This is when I finally realized that you can only change what you can control. We are all humans after all, and we have our limitations. I have learned that I have to be okay with not turning a child's life around 180 degrees, to not blame myself for things out of my control, but to do everything I can within my spheres of influence. This isn't resigning to defeat, or to accept failure, but simply an acknowledgement of the reality of human limitations. It's the acknowledgement that we all play our roles, and together, something will change. As individuals, we just need to do our jobs, and do them well. There is so much wrong with our society - in particular, our city - and it's going to take so much more than me to change it. To think that I can do it is prideful and simply not trusting in the sovereignty of God; God put me in this place to do this job. While a teacher can also be a counselor, a parent and so forth, we have to learn to lay it all down and if we really did the best job we can, we just have to acknowledge that we can't change everything.


So what's next? I've been faced with the harsh reality of Detroit, and I've understood what change really means, but how does that change the work we do as educators? First, this requires a change in the mentality of the students. They need to see that the circumstances they are surrounded with should not be their reality. They need to see for themselves a need for change, because like I said, we can't force it onto them; they need to realize it themselves. As an educator, I can be the first to set an example. First and foremost, showing my kids patience goes a long way to teaching them the simple ideas of respect and human dignity. Indeed, I think the bittersweetness of the end of year partly lies within the fact that these past few months have been like pulling teeth with my kids. I end up raising my voice on a daily basis, sending kids out of the room because I just can't stand them, and even getting into petty little arguments with them. Yes, they were misbehaving, but could I have set a better example? Yes. When they see their parents and now their teachers all treat them this way, this becomes what they are socialized into. Simply being more patient with them doesn't sound like much, but it shows them that if they are treated with respect by their authority figures, they too need to treat their peers with that kind of respect. It's these little things that develop their social norms, growing as thoughtful and conscientious citizens.


Secondly, their growth from boys and girls into young men and women requires a significant investment on the part of both their teachers and their parents. What is much harder to change is the involvement of their parents, but what I can easily change is my investment. A regret I had this year was that I became too complacent in building relationships with my students. On the last day of class, I thought about how many students I had actually built a solid relationship with, and I can't think of more than 10 or 15. That's just over a tenth of my students. Like I had written earlier, true change doesn't come from me telling a child what to do. Genuine, lasting change comes from me building a relationship with a child and guiding them along the path of them realizing what they themselves need to change. It's about listening to their life stories, their bits and pieces of drama and their musings on life, and then giving them guidance to make the right decisions. It's impossible to take a broad, sweeping stroke and just tell kids to make good choices. Each student has had different life experiences that have defined who they are, and it takes time and investment to get to know them. This work isn't easy, and yes, it's time-consuming, but it's something we have to do. I've found myself wasting the whole hour of my lunch, when I have kids sitting in my classroom the entire time, waiting to be heard and talked to. It takes a lot more energy I know, but can I really expect a shift in my students' mindsets if I'm just sitting on the side watching?


Moving from personal growth into communal, societal growth, it has been incredibly important for me to understand that education is not the solution to everything. I've understood that sustainable change requires an investment by the entire community, with parents forming its cornerstone. Teachers and schools can only do so much - we can open pathways of opportunity, but these pathways need to have an end goal. We can give them knowledge and skills, but they need places in which to apply them. Our kids need to live in communities and environments that are conducive for their development. They don't need to grow up fatherless, they don't need to visit their brothers in jail on the weekends, and they certainly don't need to go to a family member's funeral every few weeks. Our kids need to have a place for healthy socialization, an outlet to express themselves, and avenues to form their own identity. Our kids need so much more than school. While I did learn that we can only change what we can control, we can empower our students to take ownership of their communities and make lasting change, piece by piece, for the betterment of the city they love. These kids live here, and they know best how to change their own community. That's why student-led movements are so important - they need to be empowered to speak out and take action. Imagine how powerful it would be if we had an entire student body openly reject drugs, board up abandoned houses, and cleaned up their neighborhood parks? To get to this point, we need to empower our students - to have them realize that they hold the key to their future, and their future is defined not by these 'outsiders,' by but them and their peers. Indeed, it's by developing these students' social skills, their social consciousness and by truly investing in them that they can be empowered to make a difference in their communities.


I've learned a lot this past year - I've had stories of success, but I also end the school year with regrets. I've learned that it is the students that are in control of their future - we are merely tools to help them get there. This job isn't about us and what we can do, but it's about how we can help our students do everything they can do. It's not about creating change as we see it, but about empowering our students to produce change that will last beyond their generation. This job is about realizing the potential of these students. Just by seeing what they go through on a daily basis, and still come to school wanting to learn, you can see what they're made of. These students are stronger, more resilient, more perseverant than I could ever imagine myself to be. The circumstances they deal with aren't their fault, but they shoulder the burden and move on. Let's give them some credit and trust that with God's grace, they will become the leaders that will shape their own futures and those of their communities.

For the Future

Words can hardly describe how this past week went. I have been inspired and motivated again and again by my students, who, despite facing obstacle after obstacle, have come through and have shown me what perseverance means.

This past week, I attended the Michigan Youth in Government conference in Lansing with 12 of my students. These students participated in mock trials, a model legislature, and debate. After over 5 months of practice, our mock trial team was finally ready, and out of a field of 22 competing schools, qualified for the semi-finals of the State Tournament and finished 3^rd. Their opposing teams couldn’t believe that a team from the east side of Detroit could do so well, and yes, despite where they may be from, the team finished 5-1. Over the past few months, we struggled, argued and they had to get pushed harder and harder. Through frustration and sometimes, heated debates, they finally pulled through and made themselves, us, and their school proud of their achievements.

Coming into this conference after a difficult week with some of the 9^th graders, it was easy to return to the paradigm that teaching was a vicious cycle, where bad days would always follow good days. It was difficult for me to see the reward sometimes, as there really was no tangible reward. You don’t get thanked, and sometimes you don’t see the academic progress that you want in your students. However, seeing the relentless effort and pursuit of success of these students this week, I am inspired. Granted, I was with 12 of my best students, but their thirst for knowledge and the betterment of themselves was evident. I spent 18 hours a day with my students – beginning at breakfast, through committee sessions and mock trials, sharing lunch and dinner, and getting to hang out together afterwards, I have gotten to know them as people, and as leaders.

Throughout this week, my students fought through problems back home, little fights at the conference, and even a breakup, and still managed to get a tremendous amount out of this experience. They stood up for what they believed in – debating bills that would help the city of Detroit and its schools. They valiantly and passionately fought for rights for minorities and the less-fortunate. They stood up and corrected those who were ignorant of the problems facing inner cities, sharing real-life experiences of what it actually is like to live in poverty. They had no fear, even knowing that some of these students had higher ACT scores, or higher reading levels, or came from better schools and wealthier families. Nothing fazed them, because they themselves knew that they had the ability and the talent.

At the end of the conference last night, we sat out in the courtyard in a circle and shared our reflections. The students talked about how Denby helped them through their problems, about how much they love their school, and their hope that the changes forthcoming won’t affect their education. These students – every one of them leaders in their own right – showed me why I’m doing my job. It is to ensure that the students get what they deserve, both academically and emotionally. The students shared honestly about how Denby had changed them, and one theme that really stood out was how the school showed them that someone outside of their family could care about them. One of the students mentioned that their teachers were some of the few people outside of ‘his race’ that cared about who he was. They shared about how they went through the loss of family members, bad life choices and complicated backgrounds, and grew out of them better people and citizens. They shared about how their teachers had pushed them and made them learn, even when they didn’t want to. They told us that their best teachers were the ones that were the hardest on them; those that punished them for being late and not turning in homework.

At the end of the night, we huddled up together and shared. We prayed for our school, our teachers, our administration, and most importantly, our students. We prayed for stability, for safety, for strength. We shared about our hopes; a hope that the changes forthcoming will benefit, not obstruct, our students’ education. Our prayers and reflections gave me hope; it showed me how much the students cared and took ownership of their own education. It showed me that the students had a fire in them to fight for their rights and their future. It showed me that school, to most of these students, was a refuge. It was a refuge from the harsh realities of life, from the unfortunate circumstances that far too often plague our community. On Friday, 300 students from Denby walked out of class and protested outside the building for their rights. They protested because they had feared for the future of the school they love. They didn’t do it because they hated school, but the exact opposite. They did it because they loved their school and treasured it so much that they would risk punishment and stand in solidarity to advocate for its future.

After all this, I was once again reminded that sometimes, students don’t act out because they don’t care. The only hope, for some, is to be at school. To some, it is a refuge; to others, it is a home they never had. It is here that they have found family and love. It is here that they have found a meaning in life. And to take that away from any of them would be unfair. To give up disciplining them because I’m tired isn’t an excuse. To yell because they frustrate me isn’t an excuse. To want to quit because they are disrespectful, that’s not an excuse either. Why? Because these students care. Because we are fighting for their futures. We are teaching them to learn respect, to be productive members of society. It’s not time to back down and let them rot in the paradigm of failure and complacency, but it’s time to work and to love them like no other, because that’s why they keep on coming to school everyday. It’s time to write lessons that engage our students, to ask questions that challenge them, to discipline them in ways that are fair and consistent, and to love them like we have never loved before.

On a lighter note, here is what our country would look like if it were ran by high schoolers (based on the bills that were passed by the teen legislature and signed into law by our youth governor):

-      -- All marriages are considered civil unions; the government has no role whatsoever in marriages

-      -- Michigan would have a constitutional amendment allowing gay marriages

-      -- Marijuana would be legalized for recreational purposes

-     --  The sales tax would be increased to 7%

-     --  Emergency financial managers would be outlawed

-     --  Teens with learners permits would be able to drive at night

-     --  All passengers in cars would have to wear seat belts

-     --  The 10-cent bottle deposit would apply to all bottles

-     --  All students would receive 2 total hours of ‘rest periods’ per semester

-     --  Ultrasounds would be required before all abortions

-    --   Gym would no longer be a requirement for graduation

-    --   Hunting season would open on a weekend to allow for opening day celebrations

-    --   Lowering the hunting age to 14 without adult supervision

-    --   GPA-based bridge cards for work study-eligible college students

-    --   Students would receive a college scholarship if they have at least a 3.0 GPA and a 21 on the ACT (this was especially interesting because ALL of the delegates from Southeast Michigan found this essential, but all of the delegates from elsewhere thought this was a form of socialism)

-     --  Prostitution would be legalized in Michigan

Apologies.

Sometimes, you have to do what's right, and not what you want, or what you THINK is best. This past Tuesday, I completely lost it in front of my kids. They were yelling, running around the classroom, throwing things around, and when I tried to discipline them, they made fun of me. Hearing and seeing all that, I lost it and yelled at them. I yelled at the class, and then yelled right in front of some of the kids' faces. Obviously, they shut up, but when I went home that night, I thought about how I had treated them, and whether they had deserved that.


After thinking about it at home and talking to others at church, I decided that there was only one right thing to do. The kids didn't deserve to be yelled at under any circumstances, and I had to apologize to them. They may have deserved discipline and consequences, but yelling at them accomplished nothing, and it simply reinforced to them the idea that only the most extreme methods can ever be successful. It taught them that talking things through, diplomacy and peaceful conflict resolution would never work. It taught them the wrong lesson about respect and dignity. I didn't treat them with respect, and if I wanted respect, I had to earn it. 


Wednesday morning, I apologized to my classes for how I had treated them. I didn't want to have the conversation, and had feared it immensely. However, it really is true that when you do what's right, things will work out just fine. I didn't want to lose credibility and control of my classroom, so a reiteration of my class rules followed my apology. I told my kids that they deserved to be treated with respect and dignity, and that they needed to treat each other with the same respect they wanted. Two of my classes brushed it off and didn't really care about what I had to say, but my worst-behaved class listened intently and responded positively. I had let my guard down, been sincere with them and been vulnerable with them. This was the time when they could have taken advantage of my emotions and just pushed me off the edge. However, this class responded by telling me that no teacher has ever done that before, and that this was a lesson in respect that they, too, had to learn.


I had never expected a response like that. I wanted to do what was right, but I knew that it would probably end up messing up my classroom management system. However, it did just the opposite. My kids were on-task and learning that day. Coming home that day, I had very little doubt that this was not the product of something I myself had done, or what I was able to achieve in my classroom. Frankly, I didn't change my classroom management, and it wasn't like I had invested in my kids that much more. What it was was that I was pushed out of my comfort zone, done something I didn't want to do, and was blessed because it was the right thing to do. Most of the time, there are things we know are right, but would make us "lose face." I learned a lesson this week - the value in putting your pride aside and just be real with these students and show them what being an example means.