Needless to say that on most days, I was challenged with the task. Amidst being cussed out, threatened, or plain 'ole ignored on the regular...I was able to meet and connect with some pretty cool students, one of which was Big E. Big E was mature for his age. Large in statue, a big teddy bear of sorts...and a budding comedian to his peers. I have several memories of me spazzing out on my class, in response to my students' inattentiveness or disrespect, only to have Big E turn the moment into a comedic situation. I remember him saying "really, Ms. Mintah? For real?" with a Cheshire cat smile, as to really say "you're funny, Ms. Mintah and I am laughing at you". Where most students, even the best performing student would have an explosive meltdown with me (doesn't everyone deserves the chance to cuss their teacher out every once in a while??), Big E NEVER did. The worst Big E ever did was ask to go to the bathroom and instead leave the building. Today, I am remembering Big E. He was gunned down two weeks ago in his own neighborhood, shot in broad daylight on a Friday afternoon. I knew Big E had a gang ties. I remember sitting with him and two other male students, getting "schooled" as their eyes glowed with excitement as he and his peers explained to me the concept of "cracking cards". Yes...there is reciprocal teaching in my classroom.
I remember him being intrigued by my Sisterlocs, me answering his questions about why they were so small and whether I was taking them out soon. I remember wishing him "Happy Birthday" and noticing how nice his hair looked, straightened and cornrowed ever so neatly, sharp even, wondering who he had to braid his hair. I remember being excited when he became a member of the young male's mentoring group, believing that the relationship with Afrocentric men would facilitate his path out of the 'hood. I remember feeling proud when he spoke on behalf of the youth participants of the program at a school assembly. I remembered his beautiful smile, and most importantly his potential. My heart hurts for Ernest, and others that have been gunned down, all lives taken too soon. I cannot continue to be silent, pretending that this was just an unfortunate coincidence. To honor his memory, I have decided to initiate my blog, with the intent on sharing the truth about being a black woman, trying to elevate underserved children of color in Chicago.
