A Letter to My Students

A Letter to My Students,

Dear Students,

I have no idea how this will come out at all so I’m just going to say what I need to say. Stay safe! Stay alive! There are too many kids, too many youth losing their lives over dumb stuff. Even if the stuff is serious, is it honestly worth killing over? I’ve attended my fair share of funerals for students I had when I was a teacher at John B. Kelly Elementary School on the Southwest side of Germantown. I hate going to young funerals, especially for kids I’ve had in my classrooms as students. Almost every time I hear of a student passing, I immediately go to the 3x5 cards I had you fill out in the beginning of the year. You told me your hopes. You shared your dreams. You showed me your vision. No one envisioned themselves checkin’ out early. How did we get from there to here? Should we not even make goals anymore? Should I stop asking for your 3x5 cards? Should I not get your autographs? Something won’t make me stop. Something won’t make me give up hope. Something won’t make me think that it’s always going to be like this. Some kids I’ve had at the Youth and even at King do believe that. That this cr ain’t never gonna change. I get it. When you look around and there’s not much to look at, it’s easy to think that way. But how is it that some people make it and others don’t? How do some people go on to live successful lives, whatever that looks like for them, and others don’t? Is it something in them? Is it their support system? Is it their mindset? What? I don’t know all the answers. Shoot! I might not know any of the answers. What I know is this, I want y’all to stay alive! Fight to stay alive! Fight to not just survive, but thrive! Fight to make it! Fight to grow old! Fight to help others grow old! Sure, when you look around, things look like cr. But take a second look. Look at the ole heads in the neighborhood. They lived. Look at the trees and the grass, they lived. They’re still here for some reason. Look at the papi stores. They’re still here. Listen to the birds. They’re still here. When’s the last time you saw a dead bird in the hood? How many can you count? They’re still here, eating the bread we throw down, chasing the bees around, flying above everybody else and whatnot.

2017

Just live, kings and queens! Long live the kings and queens! School might seem boring and useless and all that, but right now it’s the best thing we got going. Nah, it ain’t perfect. Nev. But the more I, I mean the more YOU learn, the more you’ll know, even it’s the path NOT to take. I feel like I’m rambling. Y’all feeling me or nah? Maybe I’m in my bag because one of my former students was shot in the head and found in Fernhill Park on Thursday. Crazy thing is, I just saw him here last year. We caught up after a 5-year hiatus. I had him in 5^th grade. Anthony Scott. That’s him. Little boy. Girls liked him a little bit. He liked to draw and be annoying to his teachers and whatnot. He was in my homeroom. Said he wanted to be a professional sports player. Then I get a text accidentally. Someone looking for their loved-one, begging them to hit them up, to call, something!

Maybe I’m in my bag. But I’m human. I think I’m strong sometimes, but sometimes that thing hits a little hard when it all comes at once. Know what I mean. Anyway, I guess we better get to work. This young Black woman was the U.S. Poet Laureate. She was the U.S.’s official poet back in 2018 or 2017 I think. Sometimes poetry helps you through rough times. Like an ode. Ode to my students:

To my students,

You can do this!

I dedicate this to you…

Okay I can’t really think of anything right now, but give me time and I can come up with one!

I wrote this during lunch as I thought about my old kid and the accidental text I got. Just had to get my feelings out on paper because I’m not about to cry in front of y’all. They tell us, especially the brothers to be tough. To not cry. They say it shows weakness. I got a secret though, I do cry sometimes. Mainly in the car, though. This new age says it’s okay to cry. Not now, but maybe later. Maybe the poetry is in my tears. Who knows? Maybe I just cried without even realizing it. Wait, was that poetic? Ard, lemme stop. Let’s get to work. Your “Do Now” for today is…