Random Thoughts

Paying Rent

I don’t remember the name of the kind soul who thought it her duty as a teacher to donate her daughter’s hand me downs to me during my fifth grade summer school year. She was my typing teacher. I’m sure my studious nature and quiet demeanor won over her affections. I was a scrawny girl, still speaking with a weird, misplaced Caribbean accent. I was painfully shy and my clothes may have hinted at being somewhat worn. They were carry overs from a better season in my life. Times were suddenly hard and forward fashion was at the bottom of my mama’s list.

Being in the field of education and social work, exposes me to the many needs of young people. The average child bears many a burden. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs barely tells the tale of children who go from meal to meal and pillar to post. I hosted an annual winter coat drive each year at my former school. Boys would show up in their older sister’s pink hoodie sweater. No shame in their game, just trying to stay warm on a brisk Miami “winter” day. God bless the donors who paid it forward and blessed an unknown youth with a sweater that was gender friendly, lol!

I wonder if those donors, like myself, had come across a kind soul in their past. A stranger to them who sensed a need and brought a box full of gently worn items that were lovingly washed and re-gifted. There’s a famous quote that says service is the rent we pay for our stay on earth. Thank you to those who paid your mortgage ten times over in quiet service through your giving. The recipient may never cross paths with you in this life time. Just know that it was enough to know that someone out there somewhere cared.

Current Events

Head In The Sand

I drove home from work today thinking how buried my head is in the sand; not to be keeping tabs on the Michael Brown riots. I couldn’t even get the city and state right where it happened in right! I blamed it on this hot weather, blamed it on opening of schools stress, hell I even blamed it on the price of gas! And then I knew–I was really blaming it on my fear.

Fear of allowing my heart and mind to go to recesses of my psyche and have yet again have this one-sided conversation about race, police, violence, culture, education, our black boys. I’m just tired!

Tired of having the old discussion with my BLACK husband about raising our future BLACK sons with the knowledge that this world does not have a BLACK boy’s best interest in mind. Tired of feeling fearful for my friends who birthed and are raising beautiful BLACK boys. Tired of yet again having to confront our society’s flaws. Tired of acknowledging an educational system that sets our beautiful BLACK boys up for failure, of broken homes that eventually break them, of a penal system that harkens back to days slavery.

Once my heart rate returns back to normal, I’m back to my reality. I can’t be anywhere else trying to protest or get arrested! I got sixty children that along with me and my colleagues, we are welcoming this coming week. Sixty middle school boys and girls we are planning to nurture, teach, and help grow holistically. Sixty children whose parents are entrusting us with their care.

My heart bleeds for the Trayvons, Michaels, Abners, Amadous, of our society. For the weddings and graduations that will never take place. For a mother’s loss of her child. It’s incomprehensible.

Come Monday, my head won’t be in no sand. It will be up and out ready to face another school year. Praying, interceding on behalf of our children. Trusting God to impart in me what I need to impart in them. Believing that at age 17 and 18, their names will NOT be on an obituary but on a graduation program.