Random Musings of a Black male teacher

Just some random thoughts on a Wednesday afternoon...

I’ve long held the belief that as a Black male teacher in Philadelphia’s public schools, my presence represents quite a bit.

To some of my students I represent the father, big brother, uncle, step-father, older cousin they never had but wished they had.

I also was the teacher they never had.

“Mr. Flemming, can you be my dad?”

“No baby girl, but I promise to be the best teacher I can possibly be!”
"Ok!" {Smiles and heads home}

To some, I’m hated and the very bane of their existence, drawlin’. To them I represent everything wrong with teachers these days (I've heard it said, lol). I’m the one they take all of their frustrations out on.

I also was the teacher they never had.

“Mr. Flemming can be so retarted sometimes.”

“Mr. Flemmings is crazy!! His mean and…”

“I f****n hate Mr. Flemming”

To some of my students, they don’t know how to read me, take me, accept me, or reject me. What to do? Who is this guy? Why are you here? Are you going to be like all the rest? By my behavior, I’m going to see how much you can take! I don’t like you and I’m too young to really know how to articulate why, I just don’t. And what’s your name again? Flemming? Like Flamingo? Like Flemit? Flemmings with an ‘s’? Flemy?
I also was the teacher they never had.

"You mean, but you nice too. I don't know how to put it!"

“If I were you, I’d quit!”

“Oh is that what you’re used to?!? You’re used to people just quitting on you when things get hard? No sir! No me! I’m here and I’m here to stay!”

{Years later, during a chance encounter in the neighborhood} “You still the best English teacher I ever had!”

To some, I’m the cool teacher; the first male teacher, the first…how did she write it…”boy teacher”…and in many cases, the first Black "boy teacher." And he’s from Philly? And he went to public schools in Philly? And he went to college in Philly? And he’s teaching in Philly? And I’d see him on SEPTA in Philly? Hopping on the XH or the H back to Broad and Erie. Popeye's where the McDonald's used to be? Nah, he don’t do Popeye’s. He jumpin’ on the sub, getting off at City Hall to get on the 13 headed to 60^th and Kingsessing. Yooo! He said he originally from West and parts of Southwest, too. Is he a thug? But he talk so proper and whatnot but then the next minute, he talk in a way like he really from the hood. He wear a shirt and tie, but then he standing on top the desk wit a snapback, swag on a bean, corny rappin, but it's funny. He talkin' bout some "the main idea is...".  Who is this teacher and where he come from? This teacher I never had...

Snap by student HC, c/o 2017
I was tagged on social media

“Happy Birthday to the best reading teacher ever. And ur the smartest thug. Just know that I love you”

“I aint never had no teacher like you, Mr. Flemming”

“Ayo, this teacher thurl”
"I used to act up because I knew she'd send me to your class. I wanted to be in your class."

To some kids, I'm the school parent who reinforces what the birth parents at home represent. They know they can't get away with "it" here, either!

"My mom be saying the same thing!"

"He act just like my uncle!"

"You sound like my grandpop!"

"Mr. Flemming, you old school just like my {insert a relative}"

To others, I’ve been the one who kept it real and told it like it needed to be told; the one who would shut the door when the conversation really needed to get deep.

Whether it was about life…

“You are NOT stupid! You are NOT failures! You WILL succeed and you WILL work hard to get there! And I'm here to help! Point blank, period!!”

Whether it was a chat man-to-younger-man…

“Listen, when I come in here sagging, you can sag! If you see ya teacher wit his pants saggin’ low, you got my permission to do the same. But, until then…And if you wanna sag and show ya drawz, do it the minute you step out this school. But while you here, pull ‘em up!”

Or whether it was about fighting,

“My rule for fighting is this, you gotta fight and whoop me first! You whoop me, then y’all can have at it! I’m six-foot, 220, by the way”

Still yet for others, I represent the last bit of hope. If this don’t work out, the future is uncertain. Life has not thrown lemons, but the moldy rinds!

Crying agonizingly, “Please don’t tell my uncle!! He gonna send me away!”

“Mr. Flemming, you the last one I got left to look up to!”

Me, “You can join your class, I’ll come get y’all in a second.” Dismissed him. Went to a corner of my classroom and bawled like a baby after listening to a 2-minute read of an apology letter he chose to write for something he had done the day before; a letter that detailed the enigma for him called “life”.

To some parents and others I represent, "Finally!" or "I was sure hoping she'd have you!" or "I'm so grateful, Mr. Flemming!" or what was I called, a "miserable, evil teacher" who had "one lonely depressed child[hood] growing up." #Memories lol

There are many other examples, countless other anecdotes, and myriad other experiences on which I could dwell and enumerate, but for now, I will not. There are so many feel good moments, moments of triumph over adversity, moments of joy and pure ecstasy, moments of “We got this” moments where real, authentic, and meaningful teaching and learning experiences were occurring! Man oh man! Too many to mention! Moments when they had their teacher’s back in the midst of adversity that was not so well hidden! There are also moments of profound sorrow and disappointment. The loss of life. The incarceration of kids who look like me! Yet there remains an unexplainable hope, a sense of what can be, and the possibility of a rose growing out of concrete (Shakur, 1999). As I transition from the public neighborhood elementary school I've called home for a decade to the public neighborhood high school, I have a feeling there’s more to come.

I’m not perfect, I just keep trying.

[The quotes are actual quotes from me or students over the years, preserved in notes, my memory, social media posts, my notebooks, etc.]