Shoes neatly placed near the door. Bag packed full with supplies. Nerves dancing like butterflies deep inside.
Today is my first day of school.
I practiced how I would say hello. I brushed my teeth twice. I picked out my outfit and brushed out my hair. This is the day I’ve wanted since I was a kid living at 830 Meeker Avenue in a white house with blue trim.
The school on Sunset and Lassalette was guarded with chain-linked fences and padlocked gates when I lived in the area. I would see other kids walk to school and wonder why my parents said the school wasn’t safe and overcrowded with students. And then, the year we moved out of the neighborhood, a 7th grade student brought a loaded glock to school and threatened another student from a rival gang. He was 13 years old.
Though the neighborhood has greatly improved, the schools still struggle to gain footing with students who are in classrooms packed with primarily Hispanic children (95%) falling behind the national average. 68% of the children in the school district qualify for government issued lunches, most live in households with seven or more members, and only 12% of the community has secondary education.
Today I’m going back to 830 Meeker Avenue and driving to the school I could’ve have gone to. But this time I’m not a student who fears having to read out loud, make friends, or figure out where to sit at lunch. I’m going into the classroom to courageously share my story with junior high students and teach a writing workshop.
I told Ms. Moran I had never done this before. I’ve never done this before. I made excuses. No really, I’m not a writer. I can’t even spell and have problems with my tenses. I even bailed on her due to a scheduling conflict. Ms. Moran, please excuse my absence from class. The dog ate my calendar and I forgot to show up.
But today I’m ready to share my stories about growing up in their ‘hood, walking on their streets, and dreaming their dreams. Through the power of story, I want to give them the power to dream. Through the power of words, I want to give them a voice. Through the power of faith, I want to give them hope. Pray for me as I walk through the chain link fence, through the padlocked gate, and into a classroom where students need more than I could ever give.
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