"I ain't even white." |
chance
noun // the possibility of something happening I was sitting at my desk during my lunch when one of my 17 year-old male students came into my classroom to visit. He doesn't have me for class this semester, but I see almost all of the students in the building on any given day. It's cute when they come in and say, "Dang, Ms. Tellis, I should've failed your class last semester so I could have you again!" I laugh and tell them they should've told me ahead of time... I would've given them zeros. This young man started the year as an absolute disaster. His clear ADHD and his endearing stutter really had him in a place of self-consciousness and self-doubt as far as accomplishment was concerned. Since I called his mother at home a few months ago, he rarely misses school and has sincerely been attempted to earn high grades in each of his classes. I am so very proud of his efforts. He walked in and gave me a hug. He always asks how I'm doing, too. He's not a selfish student. I appreciate that about him. We got into deep conversation relatively quickly. I was asking more about his life pre-Communities in Schools of Philadelphia. How he ended up here. He is just so honest. "I had i-i-issues with authority. Nobody could tell me nothin'. It didn't matter who was tryna talk to me. I wasn't listenin'." I asked him how he felt now that he was here. He said, "Th-th-this is my second chance, for real. This place really is a second chance for me." Without prompting or trying to pull out some sort of sentimental response, that's what this young man said to me. This student has issues with drugs, is a teen father, and up until this year, has not been able to attend a school that he feels is beneficial to his education. It made my heart fill with joy as I heard him explain what this school means to him. And I tried to reflect on what the word "chance" really means. The majority of our students attend public school first... and it just doesn't work. That was chance number one. For many of them, they hop from school to school... so it could be chances one-seven. We're almost always the "last" chance. Meaning the last possibility of something happening. I'd like to clarify... the last possibility of something positive happening. High school diplomas are like keys. I like to picture my students lined up in a hallway just full of a bunch of doors (Monsters, Inc.-esque mental image). All of my students are shoved in this hallway, and all the doors are locked. They are just wandering, shoving past each other, turning doorknob after doorknob, but nothing will open. Some of them decide to sit down. Some of them ask for the cheapest key to the cheapest door. But some of them... some of them realize they have all these chances in front of them. All of these possibilities for something to happen because if they can just get the right key... they can get out of here. I will have students that will quit. They'll sit down and never get a key. I have some that will graduate and "stay out the way". They'll be handed a key that will hand on their wall like a decoration. They'll never try it on an actual door. Let me remind everyone that I do not understand how difficult it is to be a black young adult fending for herself in Philadelphia. However, my students are being given their chances: the possibility of something happening... my students specifically do not have to choose a life of "staying out of the way" for themselves. Some will because they do not have a future-oriented mindset. It's a hard mindset to infiltrate. I try every day to tell those students that if they wanted, they could be great things far away from here. Some will still stay on the same block until they're the "old heads" in the hood. But praise the Lord, I will be a part of a key-giving ceremony in June. A ceremony in which 60+ students will be handed keys to their doors to the future... And I pray every day those doors are full of bright and colorful chances... possibilities of something happening. All I can ask is that each student that comes to give me a hug at my desk will feel the gravity of the chance in front of them. With each hug I squeeze with my little, tiny body, I pray all of my love is transferred into their high school-minded heads so that they can feel the weight of the possibility of something good happening. Hugs & chances. Second... third... fourth... never-ending hugs & chances.
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AuthorA young woman trying to figure out why she matters and where she belongs in a struggling, urban culture. CategoriesArchives
November 2016
All stories, opinions, and suggestions are written strictly by the author of this blog, and do not reflect the opinions or stance of Communities in Schools of Philadelphia.
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