Never Not A Teacher

It’s the summer. The heat and humidity of the mid-Atlantic chase us to the nearest pool, beach, or water ice stand. Teachers aren’t teachers in the summer, right? It’s our time off, right? Student-free until the fall, right? Wrong!

Being a teacher is not something we just turn on and off at will, no matter how hard we try.  I can tell you from experience, being a teacher is as much a part of me as my brown skin and curly hair. It creeps up every now and then when I see a child rolling on the floor in a fit of rage in the store or when I am giving directions for someone downtown and repeat them twice to be sure. I witnessed a teacher, who is also a close friend and one of my brothas from anotha motha this past week at our church, in action!

This past week was VBS or Vacation Bible School at our church. VBS for us is a week-long event full of Bible lessons, fun, and games every summer. Add in food, crafts, and some hype and it really is quite exciting! As the evening’s activities wind down, participants are given an opportunity to recall for all of us what they remember from the lesson. One of the students was an 18-year-old young man with autism. One night as he was recalling what he remembered in class, he found himself struggling. Publically. My brother and friend, who was not this young man’s teacher, decided he would just softly shout out (is that possible?) key words or phrases from the lesson. The young man would repeat the key word or phrase and his memory would be jarred. All he needed was a word or phrase and he would recall the evening’s lesson and share it with us. This cycle continued for about 2 minutes or so; the young man struggling to recall, Andrew softly shouting a word or phrase, the young man recalling what he learned without hesitation or trepidation for the next few seconds.

I had a chance to ask my good buddy ‘Drew about it a couple of days later. I asked whether that was something he learned, supplying signal words, or whether it was just his teacher instincts. I was particularly interested if that was something he learned while working with students who have autism. He described it as his educator instincts having kicked in because he didn’t want the young man to be standing up there, stuck and embarrassed. It worked.

There are a few lessons we can learn from my friend and colleague. One, we should really get out of the business of embarrassing our students, not that this was the case with this young man. But, just in general, let’s chill. I get it. Sometimes we want to see who was really paying attention or we want to put a student on notice that we know they kept running their mouth while we were giving directions. Being stuck and embarrassed is not fun. Truth be told, that young man, or any of our students at school, could have given up and shut down. While the young man did volunteer to review the lesson, I think, his public struggle could have been the source of psychological or emotional trauma. Rebuilding that trust again could take twice as long as it took to co-construct it initially.

Another lesson we can learn is to take risks. Andrew didn’t know if his educator instincts would work. That not knowing did not stop him from trying. We have to be allowed to take academic and intellectual risks, the same risks most of us expect of our students. Fear of being wrong cannot paralyze our attempt at a strong effort. As teachers we should want to take those risks and school leaders should create a culture in schools where we can take those risks without fear of reprisal. The risk could work and if it doesn’t, okay. It didn’t work. Onward!

Maybe the most important lesson of all is that we are never not teachers, whether it’s in our formal role or in the way we go about our daily lives. We are teachers! It’s who we are! It’s what we do! Every single day we should strive to become better versions of ourselves! Who knows, you may be the next person to say something that could have a lasting impact, for better or for worse? *shrugs*

The People's Court

It's Tuesday, Decemeber 26, 2017. I'm sitting on my couch having just finished my lunch. (Just in case you are wondering, it was a chicken salad and spinach mini-hoagie on a wheat roll, a bag of spicy nacho Doritos, a cookie, and raspberry ice tea.)

I'm watching The People's Court with Judge Milian. The plaintiff in one case, Jason Smith, was suing a man who reneged on a payment for boat and car detailing services that the plaintiff provided. Mr. Smith, a 30-something year old Black man was a bit animated and "antsy" while presenting his case. Judge Milian commented on his restlessness twice before telling him to have a seat because he was irritating her (her words).

I can understand how his animation and his being ansty might be a little unnerving. That's life. Sometimes people's voices, mannersims, habits, personalities, etc. annoy us. Her annoyance with Mr. Smith becomes a little precarious, however, because of her position of power being the judge. For all intents and purposes, he kind of has to do what she says. He did sit down as ordered.

You already know where I'm going. Black male students experience disproportionate representation in school discipline (suspension and expulsion) and in special education, particularly in high incidence categories like emotional behavioral disorders and learning disabilities.

I wonder if many of our colleagues, to whom the balance of power tilts in the student/teacher relationship, are just annoyed with our young African American male students. 🤔

I wonder if instead of finding ways to teach how he best learns, some of us de facto embrace exclusionary pedagogical stances or default to special education referral processes.🤔

"Well, we can't just think about our African American male students! What about our female students or boys and girls of other ethnic groups?"

The overrepresentstion of our Black male students in suspension and expulsion tracts and in high incidence special education tracts tells me we haven't been thinking about our African American male students too much at all.

Jason Smith won his case. Many of our young Black men are also winning in the classroom, in boardrooms, in business, in college, and in life. As with many brothers with whom I speak, *our* winning isn't enough, though. We want all of our young brothers to experience success as well. The classroom, from preschool onward, is one of many places to scrutinize and mobilize.

Uncle Kevin

Ayo, peep this: two brothaz hittin each other up, back n forth, plottin for the culture!
Aaaaaannnd, now that I have your attention, let me be serious, lol

Imagine this, two African American men putting their heads together to plan a series of informal conversations for the benefit of younger ladies and gentlemen who look like us. Such was the case with me and my Uncle Kevin, my mother's brother. Uncle and nephew, two brothas planning ways to add layers of emphasis on the importance of education to PreK-8 foundations with varying degrees of stability.

For the past three Wednesdays, Uncle Kevin has  come to Martin Luther King High School to sit and chat with each of my 5 classes about life. During these #UncKevSeries (I just made that up) the conversation topics ranged from the importance of being literate, having and holding on to dreams and visions, and making the teacher's job a wee bit easier (On everything, I didn't ask him to say that...). He also spoke of his being raised in Germantown, his hope of one day becoming a trash man, later a teacher, and ultimately the reality of his becoming a registered nurse with a well known hospital in Philly.

The conversations were authentic.
Many of their questions, real.
The lasting impact, as with any youth engagement initiative, yet to be determined.
Some feigned disinterest, but when they repeatedly ask on a Thursday or Monday (knowing he'd only be coming on Wednesdays), "Ayo Flem, where ya uncle at?", that's when you know it's real!

Let me add one very important piece. My Uncle Kevin is an alumnus of a local community college, the Community College of Philadelphia. Those who follow my thoughts on paper know that I recently wrote about not sleeping on community colleges. Here's yet another example of how community colleges may be the direction that some may want or need to take as an initial step into their future!

It's a Rap

I couldn't think of a better way to end an 8-week accelerated semester than the way it ended tonight.

Several weeks ago I wrote about one of my college students who asked if he could write a rap for The Soloist by Steve Lopez, our course text for the English part of the Reading course. Tonight, after a few more Article Articulation assignments, also discussed in that previous post, I informed the class that after he raps, it's a rap.

He set up his background music and with such finesse he
spit them barz and lyricals
quick as carz, satirical...

In church, we give the benediction.
His rap was something like that. And it wasn't a corny jawn either. He did the thing. There was nothing left to say.

So let the class say, "AMEN!" (Except for the part that I still have to report to work next week, but it's cool though)

Don't Sleep on Community Colleges

I'm not sure just how widespread the idea reached, but at one point in the "hood" (and perhaps beyond), many thought of community college as "13th grade", just an extension of high school. Where the idea came from, I have no clue. This post centers on a complete reconsideration of those past thoughts that many of us in the hood had. Forget whatever biases we/you may have had about community colleges as a teenager or even as an adult! They definitely have a place in the lives of young and older adults alike!

Recent events in the lives of two 20-something year old Black men in Philadelphia have put both their accomplishments and at least one common experience they both shared in the limelight. They both attended the Community College of Philadelphia. Those two young men are Mr. Quamiir Trice and Mr. Hazim Hardeman. Both in their early 20s, their experiences with some of life's toughest enigmas aren't unlike those of many other young people of color in the 'hood' and elsewhere. Also like many other young people of color, young brothers and sisters, they're winning!

The success stories of Quamiir and Hazim are circulating local and social media, print and digital media, the Associated Press, everywhere! They're taking the narrative by storm; that of the success of young Black men! Quamiir, in a reply to a tweet I mentioned him in, wrote,

Much love bro. I’m just glad we took control of our stories and shared them to shed light on our communities. Keep winning y’all✊🏾

— Quamiir Trice (@QuamiirTrice) November 23, 2017

If you're unaware of their stories, check out their twitter feeds. Nothing that I can write here will do it justice. Hear them in their own words.

Follow @QuamiirTrice

Follow @hazimhardeman

One of many salient points included in their narratives is the time they spent as students at Community College of Philadelphia, anything but 13th grade.

On Hazim's experience, Susan Snyder writes on philly.com, "...he went to community college, and his life as a scholar took off. He got into the honors program, for which he had high praise, and served as vice president of the student body." In an interview posted by Temple University on YouTube, Hazim speaks about how attending CCP allowed him the "opportunity to reorient myself and really focus myself..." He speaks of his learning how to be a scholar and how to interact with his teachers and professors. Hazim also makes it a point to note how the opportunity to attend CCP, knowing he could transfer to a place like Temple, was "something significant not only to me but to people in my community" This was, in his words, "an opportunity that not a lot of people in my neighborhood have."

He's Temple's first Rhodes Scholar and is headed to Oxford University.

Quamiir's road to and experiences at CCP also debunk previously held 13th grade mentalities!

In a Philadelphia Tribune report, Quamiir speaks of his experience in a program at the Center for Male Engagement at Community, “For the first time, I was watching four Black educators making a difference in my life and other students lives,” Trice said. “It was an eye opener for me. I was inspired by what they were doing, how they were carrying themselves, and how they were dressing." Kristen Graham notes on philly.com how Quamiir excelled at CCP, graduated and headed on to Howard University to complete his studies in education. Personally encouraged by former mayor of Philadelphia, Michael Nutter, Philly schools superintendent, Dr. Hite and a man you may have heard of, Barrack Obama, "Mr. Trice" is now an educator here in Philly, a Black male educator with great promise.

More and more, students and families are finding community colleges to be viable, affordable, and meaningful postsecondary experiences in preparation for even more exhaustive postsecondary learning. 

In a cursory search for research on the topic, a few articles at the top of the search engines and databases yielded research on how several who start at places like CCP don't do well in 4-year universities, if they finish at all. I was a little disheartened, until...duhhhh...I'm writing a blog post about two brothers whose stories are counter narratives!! HA! How 'bout them apples!?!

During a recent trip with my students to CCP, one of the faculty members and I were chatting during lunch. He spoke of his long career there and I spoke of my coming up on my one year anniversary with Delaware County Community College as an adjunct reading professor teaching at night. He spoke of the whole 13th grade mentality. I asked this older brother very frankly if from his experience, people still think that way. He said "no". I echoed my agreement with that sentiment based on my experiences as an adjunct and based on conversations with youth and adults alike!

In a separate, unprovoked conversation with a fellow church member, who had no idea what my thoughts were, she commented on the quality of education she is receiving at a local community college. She already has at least a Bachelors, but decided to take (or took) a course in business. She commented how she likes it and how courses, overall, are being taught by experts in their fields and PhDs. (Note the *and*, because a PhD does not necessarily make you an expert)

In another unprovoked conversation, this time with a local school superintendent, we spoke of our support for the education that community colleges have to offer. She spoke of the dual enrollment program her district offers and the increasing success of such. I spoke up Quamiir and Hazim.

The mentality towards community colleges is changing. From my view, many no longer consider it "13th" grade but the next logical step to their long term goals in life. At the end of the day, whatever post-secondary goals our students have, whether community college, 4-year universities, trade school or otherwise, let's encourage them in their pursuits! Let's help them see the forest for the trees, the certificates, and the degrees!

What They Whisper, Matters

Updated December 3, 2021

Updated October 21, 2022

I firmly believe that what students say when the teacher is not around or when they perceive that the teacher is inattentive, may be their most honest sayings. This doesn't suggest that students aren't keepin it a "hunnit" when we are actively engaged in conversation. Yet and still...

I pay attention to what the kids say underneath their breath or to a classmate. I recently blogged about purposeful ear-hustling.

While, there's the occasional, "I hate this class" or "He do the most," I try to read between the lines and where I can tweak a lesson or pedagogical approach, I do. Not always, but when I can.

Every now and then, I also hear feedback that lets me know I've broken through the multilayered Teflon that some of them have built up over the years.  I'd hear something that lets me know that I'm on the right track.

In one instance, a student was starting to cut up in class. Another classmate quickly checked him, "Yo, this not the type of class we can wild out in!"

Bet!

Then there was a group of girls who were discussing our latest "Do Now" series.

Student 1: "Yo these Do Nows be fun as &%*# -  I be writing a whole page and &%*#!!"
Student 2: "Real &%*#!! Me too. [So-n-so] be asking why I'm writing all these sentences!"

Listen to students!

Earhustle, even!😉

"You think I can rap...?"

http://5starempire.com/category/hip-hop-international/

I'm a public high school English teacher by day and an adjunct reading professor at a local community college by night. As my accelerated reading course began recently, I assigned an article for my students to read that we'd later discuss. I was demonstrating an article discussion assignment that would be required of them soon when one of my students whispered a question to me. "You think I can rap about what we're talking about one day?" I can't begin to express my excitement! This young man didn't realize that the instructor before him TOTALLY believes in multi-modal teaching and learning experiences! Needless to say, my answer was a resounding YES! We then discussed how his rapping could be incorporated into some of the lessons and his class presentations. I think this young brotha is hooked!

Conscientious Ear-hustlers

According to the U.S. Department of Education (2014), Black boys are suspended and expelled from school at higher rates than boys of other ethnicities. The scholarship is also rife with the fact that Black boys are also overrepresented in special education (Bryan & Ford, 2014 and many others). Speaking of special education, one research study suggests that some teachers make judgement calls about special education for Black boys based on how they walk (Neal, McCray, Webb-Johnson, & Bridgest, 2003). Yes, you read that correctly. Walk.

As we embark upon a new school year, let's rethink what we know about teaching and learning as it relates to our young Black male students. While it would be nice to see an increase in the number of Black male educators in our public schools (a notion I embrace, advocate for, and work behind the scenes with brothers on), this as the sole solution to the problem oversimplifies the complex and systemic nature of the problem that exists, that being the other 'r' in our school systems, racism. Sometimes it's subtle and at other times it's right there in our not-so-subtle policies and practices (ahem, Zero Tolerance) in schools. While I am a huge proponent of a diversified workforce, especially when it comes to Black men who will be effective in the profession, we cannot sit and wait. We cannot wait because some of our well-meaning colleagues may feel absolved of their responsibility to even try to work with our young Black brothers if we do so. No ma'am, no sir, no absolution here.

Want to know how Black boys learn best?

Ask. Do not believe for one second that they do not have opinions about how they like to learn. Ask them. Working together? Listening to music in the background? Alone?

Observe. Be conscientious in your ear-hustlin' (eavesdropping) and in your overall observations. You can learn a lot by sitting in the cut, shutting up, and watching. 

Make meaning of what you see and hear. When making that meaning, however, you must converse with your students, with their parents, with other adults who know them and are familiar with the culture and customs of the students with whom you work. Making meaning in a bubble may only solidify incorrect interpretations of what you're observing.

In short, be a student of your students!

Even for me, being a "brotha" and fully invested in this calling, I found myself asking my summer high school students questions about language, music, and ways of thinking. In a subsequent conversation with my sister, who also teaches, we spoke about how I made attempts to incorporate my new found knowledge into the classroom. Because of the nature of the summer work, the conversation with those young men was the way that I incorporated it into the classroom. I was their student for 10 minutes.

We've been rehashing the same trite pedagogy long enough. We've been narrow-minded in our chase of test scores and those ever elusive and mutable levels of proficiency long enough. Let's stop the insanity and learn how our young Black boys learn best and adjust accordingly. Yes, there may be pushback. But if a little pushback is the worst that can happen and we teach using a paradigm and pedagogy that is liberating and relevant for them, let them push! 

References

United States Department of Education. (2014, March). Civil rights data collection: Data snapshot: School discipline (Issue Brief No. 1). Washington, D.C.: Office for Civil Rights.

Bryan, N. & Ford, D. (2014). Recruiting and retaining black male teachers in gifted education. Gifted Child Today 37(3), 156-161. doi:10.1177/107621751453011

Neal, L., McCray, A., Webb-Johnson, G., and Bridgest, S. (2003). The effects of African American movement styles on teachers’ perceptions and reactions. Journal of Special Education, 37(3), 49-57

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.]

I Embarrassed Myself in Class....On Purpose!

Picture this.
We're reading "The Bully" by Paul Langan in addition to our curriculum stuff. We come up on the part where Darrell meets Amberlynn in the supermarket and his heart starts racing. Anyone familiar with the book knows that Darrell is a timid 9th grader with a minuscule frame.

What does Mr. Flemming, the 5th grade English/Language Arts teacher do to illustrate what Darrell may have been feeling? He recalls for the class the times when he was in full geek mode and had his little crushes!
Skinny.
Nerd.
Lived in the library after school when he went to Masterman.
Believed at one time, as a student, that summer vacations were a waste of time.
Wasn't about the latest guy fashion.
Old soul.

But to learn that a girl I liked for a long time had a crush on me?

Then at the end of ANOTHER school year to learn that ANOTHER pretty girl had a crush on me?

The kids hollered as I recalled these experiences and as they were imagining their teacher as a geek trying to hit on a pretty girl!
"Hi! Would you like to read with me?"

Yup. That's me.

(Note: I was fine being who I was. It made me who I am. My childhood was great! Love you Pop and Mom Flem)

When the Students Become the Teachers

I honestly believe that the longer I'm in this game, the more emotional I get. There are highs and lows of this (and any) profession. I choose not to focus on too many of the lows when I tweet, blog, and post. I choose to change that narrative and let the world know all the good that comes out of my very public neighborhood elementary school. Today, a student from another class had to come and spend time in my classroom. To see some of my guys assume the role of big brother, that did something to me just a little bit.

The kid made his way to one of the carpet areas (eventually) and laid down. One boy put a jacket over him, got a book, pulled up a chair and started reading to him. He was calm. Two more boys came and did the same.  I continued to teach and learn with the rest of the class, pulling them over to another section of the classroom so that we wouldn't disturb each other in our literary experiences.

Let that marinate.

I want to be a teacher just like you

Consider this a post script to a recent post that concluded with my being proud to be a Black male teacher in public schools.

Today, a few moments ago, I had three of my boys back for a little detention. As they were straightening up the classroom, one of them asked, "Mr. Flemming, when did you know you wanted to teach?"

Me: All my life!

Him: Since you was a kid?

Me: Yes.

Him: What you gotta do to become a teacher?

Me: Graduate high school, go to college, and major in education. You want to be a teacher?

Him: (nodding yes)

Me: That's good stuff, don't let nobody talk you out of it!

Him: I've been having dreams the past week about me teaching. In my dreams, I was you up here teaching and whatnot, except all that stuff (referring to a junky table off to the side). I was saying all your stuff and all that. And you was my mentor. But I know I gotta get a job and start saving now.

Me: That works. But also get good grades, because there are academic scholarships out there. That's why I tell y'all all the time to focus on school. Now you might change your mind between now and college and that's fine, but don't let anyone talk you out of it!

Almost Had Me in Tears

"Mr. Flemming, I miss your talks," said a former student who caught up with me two years ago. In addition to teaching the academic subjects, I teach life. Before, during, and/or after the lessons, wherever it's most impactful, we'd sit and talk about education and its importance, especially for, in my words, "people who look like you and me." We'd talk about the systemic racism that exists but we wouldn't bemoan it. We'd discuss ways to work hard and knock down anybod---ooops---any obstacle that would stand in our way.

One day last week I was disheartened at the lack of effort on a particular assignment with one of the classes. Because I'd had these very real and heart-to-heart conversations often, instead of me giving any kind of talk,  I asked the students to give "the talk" to each other. One by one, several of them made their way to the front to be "Mr. Flemming." After each student was finished, they "passed the mic" to someone else who was willing. They were all on point, but one student had me and a few classmates almost to the point of tears. Barely above a whisper, this young man started off by asking rhetorical questions, ones to which they could relate; questions that centered on where they want to go and who they want to be "better than." Then this, still barely above a whisper and coming from his heart - "Well, how do you think you'll get there if you don't do your work?"

Silence.
Deafening silence.

He continued to let them know what was necessary to be "better than Curry" and it involved putting their time in in school. He received a raucous ovation. Then one of my "tough" guys, "Man, I almost cried," as he dramatically widened his eyes to keep tears from falling, a gesture I had just demonstrated a day or so earlier. Me to him, "Me too."

Me too, because when you don't think they're paying attention, they are.

Me too, because when I look at them, I see quite a few with a drive and a desire to succeed in spite of the obstacles we're up against. They just need a few strong adults who believe in them, not with lip service, but in deed and in truth. (I also believe in praying for them.)

Me too, because after hearing them talk, and overhearing chatter in the neighborhood and the tweets and DMs that former students send me, one person really can make a difference. I am humbled and honored that I get to wake up every day, albeit somewhat weary, wounded, and worn, and make a difference in a child's life, in an adolescent's life. The kids know real and everyday I try my best to keep in "a hunnit." This is the noblest profession on the face of the planet and being a Black male in this profession, I wouldn't have it any other way! Point blank. Period.