THE STRANGE CASE OF RAISING UP MINDS
THE STRANGE CASE OF RAISING UP MINDS
By
Millard Lowe
PROLOGUE
Sagifo, sitting there in his chair, found himself in deep contemplation. Wrought in the mental, emotional pain of not having yet accomplished attempts to raise the minds of his “charges”, his thoughts flowed over his present state of being.
I teach. That’s it. Simple. The seemingly irony of this is that when I was in undergraduate school, the one thing I swore that I would never do, was to teach. I was going to be a successful money maker and help the community through philanthropic activities. Yet, as we all have heard on so many occasions, “The Lawd works in mysterious ways.”
Indeed, many are called, but only precious few Black men heed the chosen calling to teach (deemed by many, to be a secular vocation). On the contrary, we wanted then, as well as we want now, occupations (to be laborers of profit). Back in the day, little did I know that I was to be destined to become a teacher: a laborer of love. Indeed, to teach is to engage in labors of love. Now, this bitter cup consumes me with a zest that makes it impossible to put it asunder.
Despite this moment of emotional frailty, he refused to allow himself to be pulled down into the bowels of endless despair and subsequent defeat. He knew that he was not alone; that there were still a few brothers like he himself, who remained in the educational quarries of the inner city classroom. However, in many schools, “social promotion” had become the mythical “educational turnstile” for masses of youths destined to become models of the orange attire that has become vogue as the “new black”.
In far too many cases, the schools were no longer looked upon as citadels of the community; rather, many had become a kind of refuge for a few hours of “fun and games”; and a place where “put downs” and free for all name calling seemed to have become an enduring competitiveness. The “N” word had taken on new meaning and had now become a term of endearment freely used by all, irrespective of ethnicity. And to top it off, any attempts on the part of small groups of peers to scale the towering heights of academic achievement, had become looked upon by others as “…trying to act white.”
Such is the current situation that Sagifo and his comrades face each day as they continue to commit themselves to their daily vocation. And each day, it becomes more and more demanding. Thus, Sagifo was not too taken aback by the outcry of his young colleague, Rashon, who had stopped by to open up his heart and share his frustrations as a young teacher trying to make a difference.
“Look brother, I’ve tried, but I just can’t do it anymore,” Rashon said in utter frustration. “You would think that we were the enemy, rather than those manipulators down town who continue to make policy on how our schools here in the community are to be run. And the other thing is---it’s hard for a Black man to try to take care of a family on a teacher’s salary!”
“I hear you, my brother,” Sagifo said. “But we need to look at where these young brothers and sisters are coming from with respect to their present mind sets. And I’m talking about mind sets that are the results of the mind games that have and are still being played upon them by those same folk downtown---including some of us who are down there---and some of us who are right here---calling themselves teachers in the hood…”
“That’s another thing I’m talking about,” Rashon interrupted. “When school is over, they hop in their cars, find a nice little Happy Hour joint somewhere between the hood and their Lucy and Ricky neighborhood, and spend hours sharing how they survived another day of hazard pay duties, working with the hopeless little black kids in the hood.”
Rashon paused to grab some cashew nuts and to take a sip of ginger ale. Sagifo took advantage of the pause to continue with what he had started to say.
“Believe me brother, I know how hard it is for a man to try and take care of a family on a teacher’s salary. I got two kids of my own in college. And while scholarships help with the bills, they don’t eliminate the bills. But still, we are better off than a lot of others of our brothers and sisters; particularly many of those whose kids we deal with everyday at school.”
Looking at Rashon, Sagifo could see that although he was listening, his facial expressions and physical disposition, gave off images of someone who was feeling unaccomplished and who was grappling with disappointment and seemingly defeat; someone who was in dire need of understanding, support, encouragement and motivation. Sagifo felt as if he was looking into a mirror and seeing a reflection of himself several years ago. For some reason, he did not think that it was merely by coincident that their paths had crossed. He was more and more convinced that God does indeed, work in mysterious ways.
*********************************
An igneous, metamorphic warmth
Singed my being leaving
My sable body in a convulsive state.
What touch was this that I had
Not yet known;
And yet always yearned to know?
Shall I forever be a transient
Traveling this silicon path of time?
Will the turbulent tides of the lived lives
Ever end their to and fro search?
Stone cold realities meander an opaque mind
Whose human roots have been exposed
And sheared by human volcanic ash
Flowing to wash away sown seeds of truth.
Yet, like Job, God demands that I too,
Be put to the test that I and I must and will succeed
As we dig out the destinies that the soil of time will bear.
Through it all, the seeding journey continues:
Yes, the harvest remains forever plentiful;
Yet, the reapers still remain but a few.
*********************************
“So, you understand where I’m coming from,” Rashon said, clearing his throat. Looking directly at Sagifo---though not staring---but rather, capturing Sagifo’s attention, he continued.
“Before I can help someone else, I have to first be able to take care of me and my own. I suppose that I need to evolve a new perspective that will enable me to do both at the same time---taking care of me, mine and also being mindful of the needs of members of the extended family as well.”
“You know Rashon,” Sagifo said, “I think you’re on to something there.”
“What do you mean?” Rashon asked.
“Perspective brother---Perspective---Evolving a new perspective. If we’re going to initiate change for the better, then we need to begin with a change in perspective. All of us.”
“You mean like instead of looking at everything from merely a revolutionary point of view, maybe we need to focus on looking at things from an evolutionary point of view,” declared Rashon.
“Yeah, something like that”, Sagifo replied. “Revolutions come and go---come and go. You know, like the more things change, the more they stay the same. But in evolution, the more things change, the different they and their environment become---no matter what brings about the.”
“That’s deep man, but I can feel you,” Rashon said, as he stood up as if to ward off that seemingly ‘burned out’ syndrome that he had earlier mirrored with his body language and expressed frustrations.
As he stood here, one could sense that there were a lot of things that he was turning over in his mind; and that he needed someone to listen to what he had to say. Sagifo shifted himself in his chair as best as he could---so as to convince Rashon, that he was was very much interested in the words pouring from his mouth.
“Look here brother,” Rashon continued. “We’ve heard all the deliberations on how academically challenge our students are. And we’ve been given ‘umpteen’ rationals for this challenge from educational psychologists to cultural anthropologists who have pawned themselves off as experts on the psycho-neuro-learning abilities of children of color! And the sad thing is, so many of us and others have bought into this load of crap. Look, don’t get me wrong,” cautioned Rashon, as he proceeded. “I’m not saying that we don’t have some children that are academically challenged---like in any other ethnic or cultural group---but a large majority of our kids are academically challenged because they have been short changed at the basic levels, and because of having been brainwashed into believing that they have an innate inferiority. And it is this latter group that we have to stop making excuses for. We need to take care not to be reinforcing the stereotypes---taking care---not to lower our own expectations of them. On the contrary---speaking of
new perspectives---we, as their teachers and mentors, are going to have to become---for like of any other expression at this time---what you might call, ‘neuro-cultural-academic window washers’ and begin washing and wiping away the distorted images being mirrored back to them---reflected by others and us.”
Sagifo felt that Rashon had hit the nail on the head insofar as evolving a new perspective where black male role models, teachers and mentors were concern. “And we need to begin the new process immediately,” he thought to himself.
“I agree Rashon, you my brother, have put the key into the lock in initiating the opening of the door---leading towards the evolution of the new perspective we need as we continue our Jubilee journey. And if time is to be our supporting ally, we need to get started now. And in doing so, we must realize that in each and every one of the children that God has sent our way, there is a genius locked within them, and that we must be---not become---the key masters and the keys to unlock the door that imprisons that genius waiting to be released.”
“Ok. I hear what you’re saying ‘Sagifo,” Rashon chimed in. “But how do we begin turning the key if the lock is in the pants that falling on the ground?”
Rashon had indeed posed a profound question. Sagifo had to dig deep into his analytical thoughts to come up with a sound answer.
“Let’s look at it like this my brother,” Sagifo said. “While at present, we must continue to focus on the ‘pants on the ground’, it’s hard as hell---as crucible steel---to pull up your pants if you don’t have anything to pull them up with. Your arms and hands only do what the mind instructs them to do. You know, it’s like telling somebody they need to pull themselves up by their own boot straps when in reality, they don’t have any boots! …Duh! No boot straps! So you see, we not only have to be key masters and keys, but also boots and boot straps!”
Even the most profound problem solving conversations have their time frames. Rashon had to get home to his family and Sagifo also had some “honey do” things that he needed to attend to. So they agreed to continue the conversation later. However, before Rashon left, Sagifo still had something he wanted to share with him.
“Before you go Rashon, let me share something with you that an old man---as he put it---who was only a third grade scholar, once shared with me. One day, when I was a young college student with some confusion in my head that I needed to clear up, this old man sat me down and said this to me. ‘Son, I’m just a third grade scholar; but let me say this to you…maybe it’ll help…I don’t know. Anyway, think about this. Before a ship can sail its journey, its gots to be moored and prepared with the necessary things for its sojourn. Before a tree can grow and bear fruits with seeds for a new life, that there tree gots to be anchored and nourished by its own roots.’ “I said ok. Then he said something else.” ‘There ain’t no two ways about it,’ “He said.” ‘You can’t ever know hunger if’n you never knowed what food is. Check out what the Good Book say ‘bout the shepherd and the sheep.’ “Imagine that!” Sagifo said. “A third grade scholar!”
“Man, those words from that so called third grade scholar have been echoing in my ears for the past thirty years. Yes sir, in addition to everything else, we’ve got to be rooted anchors as well as feeders of the sheep.”
*************************************
Arise, you children of now. Wipe away the matter from your eyes;
Unplug your waxed ears and hear the whispering echoes of ancestors
Awakening sleepy memories, yawning at visions
Born of dreams deferred. See the realities soaring on the winds of change.
Come, create new dreams that dream back to you:
Giving visions of new realities to come.
While holstering your fears and fury, forget not:
One is not the masses.
While holstering your fears and fury, forget not:
The Bank of Justice’s foreclosure nature.
While holstering your fears and fury, forget not:
Yours is a generation that still has a blood debt to be paid.
Forget not: many still lack boot straps upon which to pull.
Shadowed by the veils of apathy, banquet tables swag
With the burden of surplus loads destined to rot
While masses of beings are prey to the beasts
Of hunger and homelessness:
Their naked realities being shivering hopes
Laying prostrated in the streets of despair.
My children, let not the orchards of your minds be victims
Of mental frost bite or the scorching dryness of mental drought.
Let not yourselves linger behind like plucked fruits left to rot;
Let not time steal away the germinating forces of your seeds;
Let not the scythe of time sever your anchored, nourishing roots.
My children, in the turbulent waters of change
Let not the harsh waves of time wash away the harvest.
*********************************
Integration (although what was really wanted was desegregation). Civil Rights. Voter Rights. Equal Employment (?). A Black President! Yes, blacks have come a long ways along the journey towards equality; but just how far has the journey really come---to still be struggling?
It has been almost 400 years since that Dutch frigate landed in Jamestown, Virginia leaving some 20 Black slaves to begin the evolution of that “Peculiar Institution” that would lay the foundation upon which to build the “New Promise Land” that would be America: “the land of the brave and the home of the free”. It has been over 238 years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence, echoing that all men were created equal; and as such, were entitled to “certain unalienable rights…Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. It has been over 151 years since Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation (and the beginning of Juneteenth Celebration).
Yes, a rough and rugged road has been traveled since the Emancipation Proclamation and the first and second inauguration of the Honorable Burak Obama.. Yet, there still lies ahead an even greater audacious journey. And there is going to be a need for new perspectives and strategies to conquer the new challenges ahead.
On Friday evening, Rashon stopped by Sagifo’s house for an “at home Happy Hour”. Sagifo was in the back yard “burning” and listening to Joe Henderson’s, A Flower Is A Lonesome Thing. Sagifo had three different grills going at the same time. He had some baby backs on one; brisket on another; and there was some lamb and goat on the third. Rashon came out back. His face was aglow. It was hard to tell if it was the aroma of the food or his own “eureka” moment; or both!
“Sagifo, I got to share this with you, man,” he said with excitement. “Last night I was thinking, and it came to me that many of our young students are confused in thinking that their lives have and continue to be defined by only what has happened to them in the past; and what is happening to them now. They have failed to realized that when viewed from a different perspective, their lives have been…and continues to be…defined by how they have responded to what has and is still happening to them!”
Rashon paused for a moment, as if to ascertain whether or not Sagifo was listening and did indeed, understand what he was saying. This afforded Sagifo the brief instance he needed to tend to the meats before responding.
“I hear you my brother. And I must say, you are right on it. Like Brother Malcolm said a long time ago, and it’s still true today, our youth have been hoodwinked and bamboozled. Man, they have become hung up on materialism and entitlement…”
“So, how do we rip away the hoodwink and eradicate the bamboozlement?” Roshan asked.
“The way I see it,” Sagifo continued, “We have to get our students to understand self value…to see and understand that it is how they are valued that is more important than how valuable they are. We have to find a way to enable our youth to see that it is not the quantity of life that’s important---rather, it’s the quality of the life they live that is of the utmost importance.”
Indeed, childhood mental, cultural and social academic growth and development is as much of a metamorphic process as that of a butterfly before it is able to wiggle itself out of the womb of its cocoon, and flex its fragile wings. But once those wings establish their innate stability, they enable the butterfly to soar triumphantly through the most tempestuous winds.
*********************************
Oozed from its cocoon,
I touched a butterfly;
It flew away free:
Soaring into
The roaring breeze.
Through the prisms
Of my tears,
Rainbows caressed the skies.
*********************************
Minutes later, Tampico, a Native American, come outside to join in the conversation. He had become known to as “Big T”, due to his statuesque size. He must have been six feet seven and weighed about 320 pounds. In his own “Baby Giant” meek way, he interrupted.
“Look Bros, Bantustan…Reservation…same thing. But somehow Mr. Mandela evolved a perspective that seemed to have convinced the different tribes to hold it together…irrespective of who was to eventually to win. Granted, there are still Reserves and there are still Reservations…but the political difference is still within the prevue of the Black South African. Why?” Before anyone could answer, Big T screamed out, “Mr. Mandela Man! That brother was ‘the bomb’. He evolved a whole new perspective on the freedom struggle…Hey Bros, we’re all in this thing together. You ain’t in this all by yo’self!”
The rest of the evening was spent with us discussing the Native American struggle, the Native South African struggle, the Afro Caribbean struggle and the African American struggle. A great deal of the conversation focused on neo-colonialism and incidents of corruption following independence in several countries.
Later, as the evening segued into the morning hours, it was realized where Big T was coming from. Modiba had already laid down the beginning of the new perspective and had spoken directly to the future in a way that the “powers that be” could not grasp: Sow germinating seeds in the fertile minds and souls of the children; then cultivate with undying love.
**********************************
We drop tears from the floodgates of emotions;
The watery veil distorting seeded visions sown.
An uncertainty of equilibrium hangs in a static balance
As we wade through the litany of dreams deferred…
Leaving footprints in the mud of hope:
The journey continues.
This bitter cup we must sup; pouring out our souls
As the bosoms of success sag with the gravity of time.
Yet, we nourish ourselves and ours with the painful drops there of.
Super Man is a myth; a life never lived.
Fantasy has no place here; our heroes must be more than sandwiches
Consumed by the ravages of the mouths of time.
Let us be as crucible steel: forged by the life-fires of ancestors.
Let us scratch the itching brains of the children we have borne.
Let us echo the thunder and reflect the lightening of past triumphs;
And feel the joyous spasms of old victories running down
The straightened spines of new life.
Let ignorance disintegrate like bubbles on a receding pond.
Let the dawn of a new day shatter the darkness of oblivion.
Let our sacrifices leave footprints in the mud of hope.
Let our children rise above and beyond the levees of containment.
Let the bells of freedom be ever un-rung!
*********************************
EPILOGUE:
Before giving in to the sleep that was weighing in on him, Sagifo’s thoughts flowed over the parable of the seeds: “…but there were some that fell on rich soil (us), and produced fruits…and they grew…”
Fueled by this parable, he whorled his chair around and wheeled himself to his desk and began to write down his thoughts; lease he would forget what he wanted to pass on or in the event his old ally, time, would intervene in his life before he could verbally do so.
Beloveth children---buds of hope---flowers of promise---as you continue to bloom, blossom and seed as you continue along life’s awesome sojourn through these times of trials and tribulations, realize that you do not journey alone. In times of doubt, remember that The Great Benign Power Of The Universe is journeying with you; and so are we and all the ancestors.
Continue to strive to discover the flow of your own destinies, realizing that the choices you make along the way, will determine whether or not you reach your destinations. Never forget that each and every one of you is endowed with special gifts that make you valuable to the human race as a whole.
As you continue to journey, learn to accept each crisis as an opportunity to overcome adversity. To do this, know that the Supreme Architect Of The Universe has given each of you different sets and arrangements of talents and abilities in various degrees that will enable you to turn dreams into visions, and visions into realities.
The irony of it all, is that those who are of age, may have made it to the mountaintop; and even some may have also gone on down the other side into the valley of the new Promise Land. However, there is still left on this side of the mountain, a generation of “children of Sisyphus”.
Comments