Ms. Jones Class

2009-05-07T23:59:00.000-04:00

I Surrender All
May 7, 2009
“Every other day you hear something happening on the news about people getting shot,” says my grandmother. She used to say that when I was in college and I told her it wasn’t true. She had a tendency to exaggerate, but this week it has been mostly true. It’s only Thursday and every other day somebody has been shot.

Monday night, Tamon Evans-Choate, 18, was shot on his way to the studio to work on his cd. He wasn’t in a gang, and it was almost 7:30 pm. A gunman approached, fired shots, and then hopped into an SUV. Other people who might have been involved ran. After he was shot he was smiling, but then he stopped and started reciting the 23rd psalm. Within the hour, he was pronounced dead.

Today, Thursday morning, just down the street from the office, Soheil Turner, 15, was shot in the head around 7:30 am while at a school bus stop and has possibly died. Another teenager or young adult seems to have targeted him and ran away. News reports say that he had a female basketball coach that was supposed to walk him to the bus stop this morning, but couldn’t. Word on the street is that somebody was waiting for him.

I do not know Tamon or Soheil, but I know that potential is lost. Gang members or not, life is a God-given gift but society judges with partiality. What I notice is that Tamon didn’t ask for help, but he went back to his spiritual foundation. “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.” It doesn’t say what church he went to or what denomination he was a part of, but he knows God when it is important. Like the person that could not walk Soheil to the bus stop (maybe because they knew something was up), who might forever feel guilt for not being able to be everywhere youth want or need us to be, we have limited power in some realms but absolute power in others. This one of for those of us who get overwhelmed and frustrated.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over.” Tamon knows where the power is. Sometimes we forget what our power looks like. We have absolute power:
1. To call the names of children every day in prayer
2. To teach the ones we have access to the foundations of God’s love
3. To be there when we can without assuming mini-god responsibilities
4. To accept that God empowers us to do His work but does not need us to subscribe to the ambitious goal to do everything
5. To be confident in God’s sovereignty
6. To receive God’s comfort and grace for ourselves and others

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.

I’m not apathetic. I’m heartbroken, so I’m surrendering….to God. I’m sorry that a young man has lost his life, but I’m so happy that he called out for God instead of me. God saves better than I can. Yes, we should try to fill in all of the gaps for our youth, but if we give them Christ we will have given them everything they need.

IMG00031.jpg

2009-03-10T23:54:00.000-04:00

Only a few can really appreciate this

Is it correct?

On the move...

2008-10-23T23:45:00.000-04:00

Dormant seeds bear fruit!

So I was a middle school teacher for 3 years. There was a girl in my class who was a half-pint and she acted hardcore. She didn't like affection, rejected compliments, and just relished being sarcastic. She was a little tornado that could turn your class into a coup. I knew that she liked me because she never verbally attacked me or muttered under her breath at me or about me. That equals, "She aight."

I had her for two years and since I knew she didn't like affection, (Mind you, most kids don't...except from other middle schoolers.) I used to harass her back a little just for fun. It increased my respect quotient. I would randomly ask her for a hug. She'd stare me down. Then I would stand in the hall on duty when the kids arrived and when I saw her coming to her locker, I would stand and open my arms and say, "Courtney, give me a hug!" She would grit on me and keep walking. (I had her for two years and I did this for months. Eventually she was smiling as she walked away.) "You don't have to hug me, but I know you're smiling. I can hear it."

"Whatever."

"You love me. I'm your favorite teacher."

"Teachers are evil."

Courtney also didn't like to take pictures, deliberately not smiling and rolling those brown eyes. But Courtney was an anomaly. She had a little cutesy dog named Mr. Cuddles. Yes, I'm serious. I talked about Mr. Cuddles and she would tell me she was going to bring him to school to get me. "No, I'll get you and your little dog too!" I told her I'd turn him into a lab experiment. One day, she started calling me Mama Jones. I don't remember why. Then she had other kids calling me Mama Jones. I told her if I was her mama, I'd beat her. She laughed. On occasion I would sneak up on her and hug her or she would show me sympathy when everybody else gave me a hug and I would hug her and she would leave her arms hanging limply at her sides and growl. "Is this gonna get me an A?"

Monday around 2:30 I was at the Forest Hills T and as I was walking, texting people, I saw this half-pint that looked familiar. Courtney has not grown an inch. I walked through the double doors, and she saw me. What is she going to do? Ignore me probably. Courtney walked up to me and hugged me. "Hey Ms. Jones."
"Hi Courtney, don't you have somewhere to be?" She's still holding on. I'm waiting for lightning to strike or Ashtun Kutcher and the Punk'd staff to pop out.
"School's out."
"Is it going well? What grade?" She lets go.
"Yeah. 10th. Did you have an early day?"
"No, I don't work at YA anymore?"
"What? Nobody told me."
"I went back to school. You didn't Facebook me."
"Oh. I don't do Facebook."
"Just MySpace. Where are you going now?"
"Yeah. I'm going to work."
"Where do you work?"
"KFC on American Legion."
"Really? I'm coming. You better give me a hot drumstick."
"Okay." Laugh.
"Good to see you. Stay out of trouble."
"Okay." Courtney gives me another hug, unprompted.

Wow. This child and her friends made me earn my salary in so many ways for two years that I think the school district still owes me money. As a teacher, you need those kids to make you teach. I love them, I fight with them, I'm happy when summer comes, and I worry about them. Every year in June I feel like a pistol-whipped mission accomplished invisible magician, and I hope I fixed a little of what may have been broken and pray that I didn't break anything else in the process. Two years of nothing and two hugs in four minutes.

Let me correct that...On graduation day, Courtney gave all of us hugs and took a picture because "I'm never gonna see ya'll again."

If you can't tell by now, this made my week. It was only Monday. I call it fruit, and God does it taste good!

2008-08-30T19:32:00.000-04:00

Make Way, Woman Coming Through

John McCain has chosen Sarah Palin, governor of Alaska, as his VP running mate. There is an uproar about it, and I'm just excited.

Everybody is talking about her experience, family, and the fact that she isn't like Hillary, but the fact is that she is a woman. No, we don't want just any woman as a leader, but I think she had to accept that offer.

Women have been fighting for rights and leadership positions for years. Hillary Clinton was positioned to be the first female president. That would have been historic. Now we have a chance to have a woman as VP. She's Republican, and she has all of these dynamic qualities that would make her appealing to the some of the masses. She has been governor of Alaska for a few years and served as mayor. She's got five kids, a kid in military, and a new special needs baby.

I don't care what she does or does not have, as a woman, if your phone rings and somebody asks you to run to be the first _______, and offers you support and resources to do it, I think you have to take it. Often the game is being played by men, and when the boys consider you enough to invite you to the team, you got to go play. Sometimes you have to play whatever position they let you, but remember, you're now the only girl on the field. If you figure it out and don't get blamed for losing the game, you can stay on the field, maybe change positions, or suggest another girl for the team. Boom, doorway opened.

Yes, she's got five kids and might be dragging a 4-month-old around the country. Yes, she's new to the block of US politics. Yes, she's done interesting things and maybe had a little scandal. She might not have any foreign policy experience. She might not have anything in common with Hillary Clinton except anatomy, but some women will just throw her support and some others who just don't want a brother in the White House. (Then you couldn't necessarily call it The White House.) But, if somebody called me and asked me, you better believe I would take it and know there were sacrifices to the family, and that I'd get bumped around as wet behind the ears, but I would figure it out as it happened. Pay a nanny to travel if I had to, do coursework secretly, whatever it took, I would do it.

You know why? Because the reason I give for not accepting it, lack of experience or confidence in experience, family obligations, other commitments, etc., are exactly the reasons the boys on the team will not call another woman the next time. They won't risk the risk on depending on a woman and her not stepping up or giving up whatever she is doing to if they need her. They will question her priorities. Or they'll say, "She won't do it. She's got kids."

Some of this is about Republicans and Democrats. Some of this is about women's space in politics or breaking glass ceilings. I am not going to vote for Sarah Palin or John McCain, but I thank them for keeping my spot on the team open. (Next time is coming.)

2008-08-28T23:26:00.000-04:00

What does Obama have in common with DMX?

I have refrained from commenting on the Obama campaign though I have had many thoughts...but tonight I make a fist with my right hand and pound my chest. On the anniversary of King speech from 45 years ago, today is a good day.

No other time have we heard Obama draw a line in the sand except when it came to them messing with his wife. But tonight he drew the line (with multiple crescendos in the speech) in the sand like he was at a debate. (Argument one, Argument two, respond prophylactically to attack, argument, argument, and close it up tight) I see this now... I saw this before ... I recognize this ... I remember this ... I believe this ... I will debate anything (but I ain't getting my suit dirty so don't try it) ... and then in a very Columbia and Harvard-esque manner - John McCain, the people asked for somebody to step up and offered to step up with me, so (in the words of DMX for us hood) "MEET ME OUTSIDE."

Then to answer the question of my religion...Muslim or Christian? In the words of scripture...
"Hold firmly..."(That was Hebrews 10:23)

And walk away! Where my kids? Where my wife? Where my VP? You want America back? Joe, let's do this!

2008-08-26T23:11:00.000-04:00

Guns in Schools

Last week I heard on the radio that two states are considering allowing teachers to carry, hold, possess, use guns in schools. Something about improving the safety of the kids. I was a teacher and still consider myself a teacher. I come from a family of teachers, and I wonder how this even came up. Oxymoronic for multiple reasons...

I remember some days when I wanted to shake a child (middle school...lovingly, in as much of a hug as possible ;) ). I also remember how crazy the day is for teachers who don't sit down all day, and continuously misplace their water bottles. Unless the teacher wears a holster for the gun, you run the risk of guns being misplaced or misprioritized. If the teacher has to worry about keeping up with his or her piece, then something else might not be prioritized. Like teaching.
Secondly, if the gun is supposed to protect the kids, that is telling kids that guns are safety measures and conflicts with the anti-violence and peer mediation training that most schools have in place. If the teacher needs a gun, then that undermines the confidence the kids have in the adults' ability to protect them. It could start a trickle down effect of kids needing to go get guns so they feel safe. And kids can get guns. Teachers will have licenses. Kids won't.
One of the things that teachers are supposed to do is to protect children to the best of their ability. I'm not saying they should be Secret Service and risk their lives for them, but...asking a teacher to shoot a student to protect others is going to be hard. Teachers are already expected to break up fights that put them at physical risk. Now you want them to carry a gun and shoot or be shot at when there is gun conflict. What kind of liability is that when you shoot the wrong kid? (We already sometimes blame the wrong kid for throwing paper in the class, and apology and a homework pass assuage that offense.) What protection is there?
I stood at the altar Sunday morning and noticed a little boy who wanted prayer but was afraid to come to the altar. During the offering, I mentioned it to grandma, and she said he just didn't want to come forward. So, I went to him and asked him in his seat if he needed to pray about something. He sighed in relief, "Yeah." I took him out in the hallway away from noise and asked him what he wanted to pray about. He said,"About going to a safe school." We've had some issues in Boston schools, but it never occurred to me that kids would be afraid to go back to school because of safety at school. He's seven. How's he going to feel when he walks in the first day and his 2nd Grade teacher is packing?

I know guns don't shoot people, people shoot people. True...with guns. It's not that I don't think people could have guns, but my gut tells me schools need pencils, paper, crayons, science labs, calculators, computers, and textbooks first.

2008-08-26T08:54:00.000-04:00

Tradition...

I talked to my aunt and my second cousin James got married. She said something always happens when the people in my family get married so that it isn't a straight transition. They get married, but something always happens. This time it started late. I told her if they got to the ceremony and everybody was there, it's just a matter of the vows. She said, "I know. I just smiled. He kept asking, 'Are you alright, grandma?' I said yes, and then he looked at my face." He (the groom) was happy so that's all that matters.

Here is the quote of the day from my cousin Michael (groom's uncle and amateur digital camera photographer):
"Well, we all down here and we got a preacher, and a groom. That girl go come on out of there eventually."

His sister, commenting on the pictures taken by Michael:
"Oh, look. We have the floor. That boy can't do nothing right."

Note to self: Control freaks are a good thing. They keep weddings on time.

2008-07-02T08:16:00.000-04:00

Till the Cops Come Knocking

You've heard this phrase..in Maxwell's song...as a cliche...But many of us never expect the cops to actually come knocking or have had this experience. Unless it really was at a great party. Well, Monday my dad called me and told me that to call me back because it was important. Whenever my dad says its important I think somebody died or missed a cruise ship and is stranded on an island, and I call back ready for bad news.

According to Daddy, there was no notice, but the sheriff's deputies showed up at the house on Sunday 'round noon with a summons for me. (I rolodex all recent incriminating activity in VA
...none.) I was supposed to appear for jury duty the prior Tuesday and did not. He chuckles and says they'll get you for jury duty in my hometown before they will for murder. Maybe to feel sense of accomplishment?

Let's clarify. I am no longer a resident of VA. I haven't paid taxes there since the 1900s. I am registered to vote in MA because of Deval Patrick's campaign and have served jury duty in MA
within the last six months. I have a license from some other state, but technically I am a student. And most recently a fugitive from the Commonwealth of VA. How do we fix this? (I'd like to be able to cross state lines to visit family and get a hoagie from Pino's downtown. I avoided incriminating pictures on the cruise because of this teaching and ministry career. This could nix all my good behavior for the denomination. ;)

Well, Daddy says, "Call this number when you get a chance and ask for Jackie, so-and-so's wife.
Tell her you're my daughter and she'll take care of everything. If you can't get her, ask for Mrs. Connell. Jackie is going to lunch around 1." He says I know these people, but I only know of one of them. I call and Jackie is on vacation. Mrs. Connell is at lunch, and I don't have time to keep calling back for them, so I begin explaining the situation. I get V. Earl Stanley, the Clerk of the Court (for like 56 years by now), and he tells me it was my dad who didn't show up for jury duty. I told him that BLJSr should be at the house if he needed to find him. (joke, I'd never dime my dad out) to write a letter to him stating I am a nonresident with my new address. A letter? Not even an email? Good ole' Brunswick County.

Hmmm. I've had about 8 addresses since I left high school. He only getting one. I don't need to go home until August. I love my dad. He's so nonchalant. My brother told me that I better get it straight or he'll be buying cigarettes. (I don't smoke.) I wonder if they had the Wanted posters made yet. What picture will they use? I still look my high school senior pic unfortunately.

Oh, well. Dear Clerk of Court,

Please don't send the cops knocking. I don't live in Alberta anymore. I moved 12 years ago, and now live in Boston.

Sincerely,

Mr. Jones' daughter (there's only one)

2008-06-30T10:54:00.000-04:00

Dudley Square

Friday I left work, and as I was getting into my car, I heard somebody screaming. I turned around, and there was a lady who asked me if I came out of the food pantry. I said no. She then told me a story about staying in a shelter and somebody stealing her monthly T-pass, so she can't get to Fitchburg. If I had anything to help her get on the T, she'd take me and buy me something in the store on her EBT card (though she don't want to take food from her babies) for the same amount b/c she doesn't have cash. I told her I would go to the bank and cash a rebate check for 9 dollars and give it to her, and be back if she stayed there. She looked at me and said, "You're not going to come back. You just want me to stand here? Can't I ride with you?"--Ma'am, I don't know you. I can't put you in my car, but if you walk to meet me there, I will have it. "Okay."

I went and got the money and then I had to look for her. Why am I looking for her? Because she might believe me and if I don't find her, I play into her belief that people lie. Certainly they do, but I don't. There's a Bank of American bank and ATM. I went to the ATM. Guess where she went? To the bank. Well, I'm walking around looking for a homeless person (how do you lose a homeless person? deja vu Chicago) and the illegal taxi people are asking me if I need a taxi. (I have keys in my hand.) Then one of the women taxi drivers with huge sunglasses and a jacket in 90 degrees says,"I hope you not out here waitin on your boyfriend or no n%^&* that didn't show up....Because you are beautiful. Don't even need makeup. Don't ever wait for no n#$%^, sweetheart. If he care, he will be on time." Okay, I must remember that. I told her I was looking for somebody who needed help and she said,"They must have got help from somebody else. Don't wait for nobody."

I would hope that my imaginary boyfriend would not ask to meet in Dudley Square, but who knows? Last dude I met in Dudley asked me to go out to the movies or something, and when I told him to give me his email address, he said he didn't have email or a business card. (Flag!) Then he asked me for some money so he could get some food. (Yes, that's what I said. I gave him a dollar. We didn't go out.)

I looked down the corner and there was my homeless friend. In front of the bank. I gave her 10 dollars, she said thank you and commenced to conversation. "You growing locks?" No, ma'am. If it gets wet, the twists will come out. "Oh, you got baby hair." I just turned 30, so I don't think it qualifies, but I'll take it. "Thank you."

Lesson: Love Dudley Square. Don't wait on no _______. Don't lie to homeless people. (I know how it feels, and it only lasted 2 weeks.) It's almost like your boss lying to you about your raise.

2008-06-23T23:05:00.000-04:00

Dirty 30, Part Deux AKA Puffy's New Rule Tour

Yesterday I returned home safely from my 30th birthday cruise with the JHU Crew. (Well, some of them...) In 2008, many of the class born in 1978 turn 30. Unlike most women who are embarrassed about getting older, we are fully embracing it. 29 was quite a stressful year full of lots of surprises (Chicago! Seminary! car accident. flood.) and so the breakthrough of 30 was a blast.

It started with a Thursday trip to NY to see Lalah Hathaway at the B.B. King Grill (Thanks Tami!) before my birthday. On my birthday, I slept late and got good phone calls. One from my student 'nephew' calling to tell me he was graduating and dropping the bomb that I had been chosen guest speaker at Young Achievers 8th grade graduation. I wasn't going to be at graduation but I promised I would figure it out. (Can't disappoint kids when they choose you.) Then I was taken out to a hibachi-style Japanese restaurant, followed by some Cold Stone Creamery with Kristin. (There is a rumor that I was on Brookline Avenue flashing people, but this is not true. If I was, I was showing people what 30 is supposed to look like. Since I did not get caught, photographed, or arrested...no offense taken and no evidence of such vicious lies scandalizing my good name.) That night I had to write 2 sermons for Sunday so the celebration had to be on hold. The Sunday after my birthday Kalya bought me a cupcake to church with at puppy? teddy bear? on it. It got squished between church services so I'm not sure which one. And my best friend from middle/high school (Charletta) showed up in church on a business trip and gave me pics of the twins. I had to preach two sermons, and the Body Odor sermon got some good response. There was even Febreze in the place. (yeah God!) And that Monday afterward, and JASA (Just A Sister Away- Young Women's Ministry at Bethel AME Boston) surprised me with cupcakes. Suffice it to say, I was feeling much love.

I decided I wanted to go race car driving and get some things checked off my 30 things to do the year of 30. That will be in July after things get boring. You're all invited...but bring your own money and a driver's license.

Monday I got a passport in 5 hours. (Finally a good thing about Boston.) Wednesday I spent writing this speech for the YA children and setting the stage for my invisible voice. Then I left on Thursday for a cruise with the JHU crew. 5 ladies. 4 days. 1 island. Lots of opportunity for sun and fun. And that is what we had. I have a collection of sexy and inappropriate t-shirts, so I took all of them. I didn't have cell phone service (Did you know that church teens and school jobs can send text messages to boats or find you in Nassau? They are trying to rival divine omnipresence.) and didn't make any decisions. Ribs or Salmon? Both. Ice cream? Yes. Fermented liquids? Yes. A tattoo? Sure. Two-piece? Definitely. I need proof of this one.

Proof I have, but pictures you will probably not see. Now I have just a couple tan lines separating the before 30 TJones from the after 30 TJones. Sore legs from dancing, another new nickname, almost allnighters, after dinner naps that turn into bedtime, bursting out into song and doing the macarena in line boarding the ship but watching other people karaoke the last night, and a endless list of quotes. This is now the summer of toasted cinnamonness, prohibition of _____a__ness, and Facebook secret codes with friends of 12 years. Isn't it good to be old enough to have friends for double digit years? Isn't it even better when college boys don't believe you when you tell the truth about your age? Definitely got to hit the gym...cause 40 is coming and I want a do over.

"If you can find it, you can have it." ---Anonymous but infamous

2008-04-03T00:16:00.001-04:00

It's been two months. Not that I haven't had anything to say but no time to say it. Valentine's Day and Jury Duty. Spring Break. Jeremiah and Obama. Kwame Kilpatrick. Spitzer. March Madness. April Sadness? Okay, it rhymed. Monday I had Bible Study and they had us write poems...As if I have words left for poems in the midst of 4 papers.

I am named after 2 little girls my mother never met
What you see is two families, one village, three churches, and the kingdom of God.
You might think my ambition is abnormal
What you don't know is I can't even maintain my type A-ness
See, back in the day you'd find me climbing trees in my dress
Recognize that Southern girls are like precious jewels
Cause I know you can't just find my house in the backwoods
I am almost everything I want to be.

2008-02-03T23:24:00.000-05:00

A for Effort

This is a weird phrase, especially since E is not a grade, so if you gave a grade for effort, then it wouldn't match. I just finished watching the Super Bowl. I watched it by myself because it could have been dangerous. I've been riding both waves this year. I live in Boston, and when the sports teams do well, the attitude in the city is lighter and less stifling. This winter has been the best winter in my 3 years here. The sun has shown. It has been cold, but there are random days of warmth. In the weather and in the people.

The Red Sox won. I do not care about baseball. The Patriots go undefeated. There was a reason to be optimistic and have some hope. A perfect season was possible. The Celtics are doing great. I looked at it like if each team won the sport, we could have a year round relaxation. This could take me into the summer, and then summer is pretty decent. So there was a motive to my support, I admit it.

On the other hand, there is a little bit of arrogance associated with this pursuit of perfection. It sounds noble, but it is passive. The language gives it away. " We have a problem. There is a conflict with the Democratic Primary and the Super Bowl Parade on Super Tuesday." Are you kidding me? I did not really care who won, but I was a Giants fan as a child. I actually like the underdog. I'm not a hater, but I resonate with the underdog because I've been the underdog. I wasn't cheering for anybody. I actually slept through the game in my pajamas until the last 5 minutes. (This goes with my theory that no matter what happens the first three quarters, what you do in the last quarter is what matters. Fix it or maintain it. If it is a blowout, then I feel like I wasted three quarters waiting for them to do something in the last.) And that was when I saw the underdog say, "Screw it. I have nothing to lose but what you already told me I lost. I probably should have it in my possession before I just give it back to you." And then he didn't get hit, and he caught the ball on his head, and he caught a touchdown pass. Then they held it. Now...."The Stunning defeat..." "The shocking..." blah blah the language is still there.

I'm sorry that the favorite tastes bitter defeat. It's going to be a long week. What I didn't like (and my dad is right) was the display of unsportsmanlike conduct at the end by the perfect leader. I understand the emotion involved in disappointment, but it solidified my suspicion of passive arrogance. My brother said it best in his happiness, "It doesn't even matter that they had a perfect season now. There is no A for effort. They might as well have lost five games. They shouldn't even feel bad." He's kind of harsh, but he has been under the wrath of unrelenting Pats fans for months, and he played football himself.

I do take something away from this...The implication that the only way to be a winner is to be perfect has been lingering throughout the whole season. Fewer people had faith in the nonperfect team. Even though they won, they still deal with that language. Vindication is not instantaneous, but after you do it, you know it whether people admit it or not. If the underdog has heart, passion, and skill, I will always be his or her cheerleader. The favorite doesn't need any cheerleaders. My brother is kind of wrong. A for effort. No, championship.

The best part of this is that it teaches that you don't have to be perfect to be a champion at the end. So I have a chance, and you do too. (Now you can stop holding your breath in those pivotal moments, and breathe. You will need that oxygen to think and use those muscles in the competition. There is something always on the line.)

2008-02-01T08:25:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Something Within, I find out that someone who disagrees with Maya Angelou's choice called her a 'ho.' In response to that, the good Rev. Dr. Weems has asked of us young women (This is a good day/reason not to be in your 20s.) what boundaries we have established. Check our her entry "Baby Girl, Where's Your Line in the Sand?" (Link at right of page.)

I don't have time to get into how much 79 years of living warrants bowing at your feet... yet. So this was my response to Dr. Weems' question. I'll be back, but I need to be on time for work.

Just when we earned a little time at the grown women’s table (thank you for the risk in letting us speak), somebody disrespected NaNa Griotess…now some that got to the table recognize that we might have to help others reach it by bringing a booster seat so they can just LISTEN. The truth of the matter is, there are many young women who draw lines, yet they leave the line and get distracted or they draw it in pencil so they can erase it or move it when somebody asks “Who drew it?” What one might forget is that Maya Angelou actually knows Hillary Clinton better than most of us know Barack Obama. At 79, She DREW a line. At 29, I know that creative discourse reflects the highest intellect and honor. Let us not forget that while we tear each other up, the men are fantasizing that there is mud involved, and working it out for each other. (Did I hear correctly that Genarlow Wilson is going to MOREHOUSE? Maybe not, but I get mad on a daily basis. Grrr…) To my young sisters out there, Maya drew a line. Dr. Weems wants to see the line we draw. Pick a good place. Then…USE A PEN!

I just realized that it could be understood that I am hating on Genarlow Wilson’s opportunity. I am not. I am concerned about what college this girl, who should be graduating, is going to and if anybody is hooking her up. She might not have been Black, but she was having sex at 15. Somebody should sign a dotted line for her.

2008-01-21T00:30:00.000-05:00

381 Days...Now O'Clock With a Poet

318 days. That's how long the Montgomery boycott lasted. I just happen to have the opportunity to walk many of same hallowed halls the Rev. Martin Luther (the) King, Jr. walked during his tenure at Boston University. Yesterday, I had an interesting experience in Lowes. A white man and a black man told me that they were brothers, but they didn't know who their father was. The white man was old, and named Harry. The black man was young, named Brendan. True, they were flirting with me, but I needed some help finding a door sweep because it is cold. As I talk to them, Brendan gets called away. I find out Harry is German, and when he got to Boston, he found out it was unexpectedly racist...until a Jewish man in a Mattapan deli asked him what he expected. It was exactly what Hitler had done to the Jews. Harry was dumbstruck and enlightened.

After Harry finds out I am in seminary at BU, he asks if I have to study Martin Luther. And he tells me to go to the King library and read all of the papers. "You have to because, excuse my American English, he was a f----ing genious. And he had the cahones of an elephant. You know what cahones are?" Then Brendan comes back, and Harry (maybe trying to hook us up) tells me that Brendan is a foreigner going to college, flight school, and working two jobs to pay for it. You got Americans who won't even do that, but it's good that a foreigner can. That's why he respects him, and his wife is impressed with him so that she adopted him as family.

I usually take offense to the word "impress" depending on the context and the mouth that it comes from, but I sense this is different. He's got some judgment, but it doesn't sound like racism or classism...Who would really expect a German retired Army veteran to befriend a Trinidadian cat and joke about being his brother with his arm around him? One is blue-eyed and the other is as dredded, off-the-boat-accent as you can get. Maybe the same German guy whose son married a Jamaican girl and hangs out with his granddaughter at German school on Saturdays...Hitler must be growling, cussing, and turning over in his grave.

No disrespect to the hundreds who walked until there were holes in their shoes, no disrespect to the Jews, but that could be worth 381 days. Not absolution or forgiveness...just 381 days.

Obama spoke at King's church today and CNN followed him. (But I can't find the transcript or the whole video on CNN like I do on some politics blog.) Jeremiah Wright spoke at Howard's Rankin Chapel today and CNN followed him. (The campaign is getting nitpicky, and it's time to measure men and women.) CNN, FBI, DEA, CIA. All these letters spell something. (I'll figure that out and post it.) Hopefully, they measured their words when 40 years after King's death, there but so many new words to say, and questionable whether they are additive. I may not have said anything of value to anybody today. I'm scared to talk or respond to anything bouncing around that might be a quote or a play off of King for fear of tarnishing the poetical nuance of his words. He was not perfect, but a poet. In addition to walking, I might have volunteered to answer phones in an office where I could hear things like....

"You know there comes a time when time itself is ready for change."

What does your watch say when that happens?

2008-01-17T23:52:00.000-05:00

Keeping up with the Joneses

This will sound judgmental, but all of the Jones' are not related. So you can choose which ones you chase.

At one point, I would have said, try to keep up with Marion Jones. Now, with new information, I say, "Do not chase her." Apparently, she was on "the clear" and involved in a check fraud scam. Now she is broke, and going to serve time in jail. SIDEBAR: She cried, and nothing happened except the news noted that she cried. END SIDEBAR: What is this lesson? Don't lie when you are recorded and documents are around. Have integrity. Now she isn't even going to be remembered as the one who had the medals. She is erased from the books! I hope they have pictures. I pray for her young children and that in the 6 months and 400 hours of community service that she finds peace and opportunity to change history again.
Michael Vick is not a Jones, but you know how when people make it big, they get adopted into your family until they do something stupid. Then you don't claim them anymore. What is the lesson learned from this? If you are making millions of dollars, do not bankroll illegal things that white people care about...especially if you are on camera on a regular basis. Also, do longevity assessments of your friends. Did you meet them before or after you went to VT? I am praying for him and his family because I don't think his mistake should have cost him his career. Others have murdered wives and run away to be caught in a trunk. (If you can't figure out which one this is, this should tell you something.)

Was all of this decision-making because it looked like the Joneses had things that they didn't, and they were trying to get them? When is enough money, fame, fanfare, etc. enough? We are all watching them learn that freedom is priceless, and even if they had bank, they couldn't buy it.

I know some Joneses. I am a Jones. It's fun. About half of the time. The other half of the time, there are people chasing you and you don't know why. I am not even close to the finish line.

2008-01-14T09:06:00.000-05:00

So maybe the classroom nostalgia was temporary because the classroom came to me.

Sunday after church with my youth congregational mass choir, I saw an old student online. I said hello, and entered into what started out being a confusing and disturbing conversation. Clearly this young man had forgotten who I was because he called me sexy, used slang, profanity, and misspelled words in conversation. (maybe it's not him) Then he proceeded to get frustrated because I was not a dude...because he is now into dudes. (I consider myself an open receptacle for student convo, but would he really come out to me? Let's see.) So I engaged in a conversation to feel this out. How long you been into dudes? -- I just realized this morning. -- What made you realize that? -- When I saw my (older) brother's "anatomy" -- Well, if you just realized this morning, you might realize something else later. Same rules apply for boys and girls. Be careful and go slow. (there are four of them so it could be any of them. let's clarify.) Which one is this? -- The one I taught (but not his nickname) -- You do know this is ms jones from YA, right? -- My teacher, right? -- (Bingo). Yes. -- Oooh snap. This is his friend (his name). I'm just getting him back for a joke he played on me. -- What did he do to you? -- He went on MySpace and said I was gay. LOL. It just kids jokes. -- (time to teach without teaching) -- Well, be careful. Some kids have gotten beaten up because others didn't like the idea of being gay. You guys should pick something less volatile, but still funny. --- True. Thanks for the advice. --- (Rehabilitate by offering safer alternatives.) Like having six toes or something, and then when they deny it, say they already had surgery. (My apologies to anybody who has six toes on one foot. I mean no disrespect. It was off the cuff ) --- You have good ideas! -- Thank you. -- Will you keep this secret? --

Before it was over, he told me how he got my student's password, what school he went to, and conferred on how people set themselves up. My student had saved his password on this kid's computer when he visited. He wanted to know why I talk to my students over IM, and I told him we did HW together that way. "oo that wat i call a gud teacher" I told him I would not tell if he agreed to change the joke, and we came up with other ideas. (His secondary ideas were rather simple and benign.) What if I say, "I'm an idiot." -- That works. (are you kidding me?) -- Thanks for being such a good help. -- No problem. In the future, just think about whether someone could get hurt in the prank. Then you would have to confess, and you'd get in trouble. Do whatever you have to do not to get in trouble, even if it is sacrificing a really good joke. -- Okay. Thanks. -- Have a good year "name." -- Alright Ms. Jones. U 2

You can imagine the myriad of emotions and thoughts that went through my head over the course of this conversation. Is this 14 year old really coming out to me? How will his Nigerian parents feel about this? Who else has he told? Why do these boys think gayness (they don't think in terms of homosexuality b/c media portrays gayness) is a joke? See the level and opportunities of torture and bullying and harrassment that is new since the WWW. When I was young, it was notes passed, word of mouth, or telephone. The underworld exists for kids and adults, even though they might not want to have anything to do with it, need to visit occasionally. Parent adults should be online as much as pedophile adults. Then you would have less pedophile adults. Imagine what could happen if the wrong person responds to his "im into dudes. i just realized this morning." talk. I was not about homosexuality for me, but safety and they should come out of their bubble long enough to recognize the variety of consequences for their actions. Then they think about their actions. Earlier I hope.

Yes, this must be obsessivity because beyond the offense, fear, compulsion to correct grammar, disagreement with the basis of the joke, nervousness about engaging in conversation about sexuality with a young person, desire to reprimand the prankster, and wanting to take a nap all took second priority to being available or teaching....With all the risks involved, this is why I keep a passport to the underworld. An hour later, my real student sends me an IM. "Ms. Jones, my friend said he got revenge with my teacher. Was it you?" Seems like friend told my student. Just maybe friend will think before he acts and still be able to have fun as a kid. Maybe I have a new student.

This time the classroom came to me uninvited. Thank God I didn't retire my thinking cap.

2008-01-14T08:24:00.000-05:00

Interesting Weekend...I

Friday night --- So I'm supposed to start a youth choir at my church. Do I sing? In the shower and the car. Do I play the piano? (Lean on Me on keyboard, 1990) Do I play anything? Of course, it was on the checklist as a child. Band. So I told the teenagers, and they stared at me blankly, and then when I repeated it with the added bonus of us starting a band, they told me they play instruments. There is a minister of music who can do all of those things necessary to lead a choir. Maybe this will work. At the interest meeting, I noticed the kids want to be Sister Act 3 or the Fighting Temptations, and they sang their first song (Happy Birthday to youth pastor). I think their ambition based on previous models is good. Now we just have to write and sing the vision. Well, I have had two rehearsals, and exactly 3 people have shown up at each one. Lots of interest (about a dozen), but not many vocal chords showing up for rehearsal. I now have the Spiritual Supremes without gender homogeneity, or instead of Three Mo Tenors, it is 1 Tenor and 2 Altos. The thing is there is a different three every rehearsal. The rest of my sopranos, altos, and tenors are at Girl Scouts, school dances, wrestling matches, studying for finals, and on crutches. And so, at worship service, only (metaphorically) Diana is present. So we are flexible, and teach everybody there the song...back to my youth mass choir (congregation) trick. I'm calling this process the permutations to perfection.

2008-01-09T20:38:00.000-05:00

Resolved...

So, I just got around to seeing the Great Debaters. It's midday and the only other people in the theatre are over 50 and not brown, except for another pair. Guess we were the three musketeers.

Anyway, it resonates with me because:

I was on a debate team from 8th to 12th grade. The best thing about it was that there were only judges and the other team in the room. The second best thing about it was that I would prepare both sides no matter which one I was debating, and then I could avoid the 'overlooks.' (I have NEVER liked surprises.) Undefeated and still hate public speaking.
As much as I didn't want to be, I am a teacher. I recognize the daily challenge and triumph of trying to resurrect and preserve an individual's 'righteous mind.' I also love the fact that this time he can SEE the fruit of the obsessivity that we teachers suffer from 24/7. It is not passion because you might not love it. It is obsessivity because there is no end and as soon as you accomplish one task, you birth multiple others. The question that haunts you ("WHY...?") is the root of your own behavior. "Why not...?"
I like it when people dress as if they intended to accomplish something that day.
I'm from the South (a two type people town) and I live in New England. A(my) drawl (when it slips out, ok all the time) is usually connected to a 'slowness' of intelligence rather than a slowness of cadence. Only when I am in a bubble-bursting mood do I set one up to receive the trickle down facts that I have degrees from Harvard arch enemies. But did I ever want to rewind over and over Jurnee Smollett's voice in any rhetorical delivery...followed by respectful applause.
I cannot stand Boston. I believe that it is God's less-than-gracious prank on me. Today, I felt like this was a place where young people without their leader but "no opponent" could go deep into themselves, find who they are, and command accolade for the ability to think and present information. I can do that. My students can GO and WIN whatever they DECIDE. Here.

Now begins a love-hate relationship. Seems like I need to go run across that bridge, sit on Mem Drive, and figure out what I have RESOLVED that I have not completed. And I need to find a classroom. Quick.

2008-01-09T01:36:00.000-05:00

The Crying Game

Hmmm….Hilary’s breakdown was a hot topic in my young women’s group last night. There’s multiple reactions to it, but most seemed to agree that it is more acceptable to cry in admitting to being overwhelmed that to get emotional over the issues and the lost potential of the country. And that the question should never have been asked.

I haven’t decided yet, but I have always been told about the “One Cry” Rule. You can do it once. Make it good and don’t waste it. After that, you’re a whiner. Suck it up. It could be a different rule for White women. (Surely it is.) I’ve seen women with the privilege (not the guts and the sweaty win) cry, and my reaction is different. Everybody needs a good cry, but timing and location are crucial to what happens after the cry.

So, I wonder in my conspiratorial lens…Funny how she lost in Iowa…Polls said she was behind in NH…She cries on camera…Then she wins and one media report says she has is a “Comeback Kid.” (Like it is the last round in a Rocky movie, and not primary number 2.) More women showed up for the primary and she won them the time. Did the women show up for their sister? What difference does crying make and are we getting sucked in to the gender game with it as a political strategy?

Let’s see what happens…

2008-01-05T14:34:00.000-05:00

Medicine and Cheerleaders

So this year I decided to do something on New Year's Eve. Mind you, I got sick the day after Christmas and was eventually diagnosed with sinusitis and bronchitis, so I was still sick on New Year's Eve. One of the side effects of all that was intermittent laryngitis, so I didn't even sound normal. Suffice it to say, I was in no condition for a major party.

I went to look for a little healing. After some conversational bonding with my dad, I hit the road at six pm on the way to Baltimore. Sometimes you can predict where your healing will come from, and this time it wasn't physical healing that was most important. Antibiotics make breathing less painful, and coughing less frequent, but spiritual and emotional balms were what was going to wrap up the last year and set me in a good space for the next year.

10 p.m. --After four hours of driving, some tips on where the Baltimore family is, and I sit in WatchNight Service surrounded mostly by people I don't know, but hearing the voice of one who encouraged my spirit weekly and periodically for years. I couldn't sing any of the songs because I didn't have a voice, but my voice wasn't the one that was important. I sat beside a lady who looked like my deceased godmother. After service, the hoarseness gave me away. "Let me give you a hug. School good? You know, there are such things as trains. You could ride those instead of driving all over the country. Be careful and take care of yourself. Steward your body." Spirit medicine! Check.

12:30 a.m. I went to my church home in Baltimore. Two little birdies had told me that they were eating after service, a la Miss Clusty. So I drove over, and as I walked into the sanctuary, the two birds were cheering with excitement. Hugs, kisses, compliments, questions, and encouragement. Mostly, "You look great! You sound terrible. Go get some food." I stand in line, and Miss Clusty says,"When did you get here?"---"10 minutes ago"---"Oh, you sound horrible. Give the baby two helpings of collards, chicken, and beans. We got to run the cold out of her and bring in the new year right!" And then I got some food for my body and love from the Payne family. One hour of old stories, congratulations, hugs without fear of germs, and funny looks from kids who were knee high when I left that went berserk when they figured out who it was. I got caught in a conversation telling my call story to a couple who were not surprised, and was reminded again of how unbelievable yet phenomenal my life path is. The husband says as he walks me to my car, "We look forward to hearing from you, but we are excited to hear about you." She blows kisses from the window. There is something about going somewhere where the people are always excited to see you. Stomach and Heart medicine. Check.

2:30 a.m. --I go the my room at the Westin (thanks Daddy!) with a full belly, warmed heart, Word-wrapped-like-gauze spirit, and go to sleep in the Heavenly Bed. Truly, this is G-d's doing.

The next day, I visit a model family, raincheck a Wii tournament with the kids, and check in with the mom and dad.

4p.m. --Get some Chick-Fil-A and Ethiopian for the road, and receive multiple calls from all those angels that knew I was sick and driving from Baltimore to Boston. They talked me home. (thanks Mom!)

12:15a.m. I'm walking into my apartment after 8 hours on the road and two naps where I can't account for not having lost time.

New Year's Day, and I feel my healing as it happens. Now I know for sure that I got cheerleaders if I'm just willing to continue playing God's game.

2007-12-01T01:32:00.000-05:00

Or dare I say "Ye Little of Faith"

I just saw August Rush. (Just go see the movie.) I pride myself in the ability to see a good story or predict a dynamically written movie...so much that I don't feign humility when a movie buddy trusts my taste. This movie is about a little boy who is orphaned, and BELIEVES that music will bring his family back to him. How does he know this? He HEARS it. He knows it is a gift from them. The cast is wonderful (and everybody that is Black is portrayed rather positively), the music is amazing, and now I want to go learn how to play the guitar.

If you watch movies with an analytical and careful eye, you catch the nuances that foreshadow the outcome of the movie. At least sometimes the writers give you some clues just so you maintain hope. Or is the whole movie about faith?

He has no other reason to believe this theory of his. He doesn't even have playing music in common with his parents..but he knows.

It teaches me a few things. He's not young and foolish, but young and faithful. SIDEBAR: Wouldn't you know that the Black church is instrumental in the plot? Today I was proud to be a member. Not that every other day I'm not proud to be a member, but today when I said, "Look what the church did" I wasn't shaking my head. END SIDEBAR....People thought he was foolish, and he didn't care. How many times in my life have I not cared and been faithful to the point folks thought I was foolish and was bold about it?

The thing that it confirms for me is that we have behavioral, attitudinal, and expressive DNA from parents that we do not have to know or have spent lots of time with to receive deposits. I won't tell you how the movie substantiates this because I don't want to blow it for you, but it makes a girl feel safer. Just because I tend to think that I have missed the opportunity to be taught so many things by my own mother does not mean that it isn't already there anyway. Thank you, Jesus. Yes, it was a movie. Maybe it was fictional. I don't care. In this holiday season, when I bounce between "and I pray for quiet in my head that I can hear clearly what God said" (India Arie, This Too Shall Pass) and "if you catch me dreaming, please don't wake me till I'm done, just leave me sleeping, just pass me over, make believe that I'm not there, just leave me be" (Anthony Hamilton, Pass Me Over), it is good to get the reminder that foolish faith ain't foolish. I have been foolish over other things, so I know how to do foolish. Why not make it efficient?

He was 11, and I am twice 11 plus. I have an excellent memory. I have been heartbroken, sad, mad, broke, happy, awestruck, abused, misunderstood, celebrated, loved, and appreciated, but I can't point to any place where I have actually been forsaken. I am inspired to grow up from Ye of little faith to Ye Little of Faith. For in his little tuxedo, he was a 'little' of faith. Like a living vial of it. His gift and his faith were connected. If you poured him out, it would have been music or tears. His music breathed his faith, for it actually moved. Sound waves move, they travel, and they do move mountains. When he cried, he cried with conflict and confidence. He cried around his gift, because he couldn't use his gift, because his faith was in his gift. By the time I cry, it isn't faith (more like fear, fatigue, frustration, submission, or gratitude) that sparks it, and my gifts are waiting on the sidelines for me to finish so they can get back in the game to at least not forfeit the game if they can't make a comeback.

Whether he found his parents or not, he found out who he was and he became who he was. The gift does not fit into a fixed volume vial. I won't tell you what happens, but...Faith comes by hearing. Listen.

2007-11-29T17:35:00.000-05:00

Today I was sitting in a church history seminary class zoning out when I heard the lecturer mention the growth of American Christianity, and in particular the development of African Christianity, or African-American Christianity. My ears perked up, and I swear I heard "because of the openness and inclusiveness of Methodism, they were successfully able to bring their African influence" to Christianity. "Episcopalians had tried to bring the catechism and force them into churches, etc...but the music tradition in Methodism allowed them to bring in their oral tradition and dance which they were used to.." You get my point. And then she played three selections to demonstrate the call-response, ring shout, spiritual ("lyrics, but in a gospel form"). Sitting up after 3 hours of lecture, I was trying to figure out the phrase that woke me out of my stupor (Did she say "African significance"? Write this down for later..you could be paranoid.) and looking around to see if any of the other Black folk in the room were listening. Me, with my big afro today, wanting stand up in the back of the class to yell "How in the hell can Africans bring 'significance' and why do you keep saying 'they?' while it did not seem like any of the other 'theys' in the room were making eye contact with each other because something didn't seem right. Then I was mad (not Claire Huxtable angry, but mad) at her because she soon went back to descriptive pronouns (Puritans, Separatists) after this part of the lecture was over. And I realized that it was going to have to be an email. One because I look like the angry black woman by default with the afro. Two because I need a favor from the professor and crucifying his TA in her first lecture might not help my case. Finally, because I am not confident that I would have had anybody yelling with me.

The goal now is to make THEM remember my name enough to say it. Then I will smile.

2007-11-25T13:26:00.000-05:00

Hmmm, no more in front of the classroom. I had to trade positions and now I take a seat as I sit in seminary for the next 3 years. People keep asking me if I miss the kids, and I do, but I never knew solitude until September. I hadn't heard my name being called all day, and for a few days I thought I was hearing voices until I realized that there really was none. Silence did not mean that something was up, just that nobody was there. And I could think uninterrupted.

Yet now I can still talk to them through IM, and some are on Facebook if they can find me. It's not "Miss Jones" but "Check IM" and then they have to wait, and if I don't answer there is no offense. Still silent, but now much more intentional about conversation. The blessing of this is that what is said is written and has posterity. It's almost like writing letters back and forth when letter writing would not otherwise happen. We'll see how long I can handle the lack of noise.

2005-11-10T21:25:00.000-05:00

I started a new year teaching 7th and 8th grade. Since most of them are bigger than me, it really makes sense that they don't listen the first time I tell them something.

2005-11-09T00:13:00.000-05:00

Guess what? I had to create a blog so I can keep in touch with some friends. Welcome to the classroom. We'll see what we learn in here.