Diary of an Inner City Teacher II (religion)

Today is the second day of Kwanzaa. The principle for the day is Kuchichagulia which means self determination. I refuse to let circumstance define my destiny. Kwanzaa is a celebration of African American culture starting with our roots in Africa. Belief in God is a sure foundation in the heritage of black people.

As far back as my memory goes God was there. My grandmother taught her grandchildren to pray when we were still knee high to a grasshopper. Every night before we went to bed we got on our knees and said the Lord’s Prayer, then blessed everybody in the family. Sunday school was an important part of our lives.

As a teenager I was part of a very unique group in high school. Our friendship transcended racial and ethnic barriers as well as religious and economic ones. I had black, white, and Asian friends. Some were Jewish, some were Christian, some believed in God and some didn’t. Some came out of mansions and others from much more modest circumstances. Our common bond was that we wanted to make the world a better place to live in for all people. We came of age during the anti communist era, the civil rights era, and the Vietnam War era. Berkeley, CA was considered a radical little town and that’s what we were, radical in thought, radical in vision, and radical in action.

After being inspired by Malcom X to critically examine the role that the Christian church played in slavery I began to explore other religions. I was so inspired by Malcom X’s autobiography I became a student of Islam for a short period of time. I was given the name Tamam which means good.

Then I met my husband. My husband’s grandparents were pastors in a church where the founder of the church was an ex-slave that taught that Jesus was black and that black people were also part of the early origins of the Christian church. These ideas which were revealed to him by God have since been verified by research; the African Heritage Bible being one of many sources. More and more people are now beginning to accept a darker version of Jesus as opposed to the blond blue-eyed portrait of my formative years. My grandmother-in-law invited my husband and I to her church in Miami when we were there visiting. It was at that time that I became a follower of Jesus and wanted to personally learn more about him.

Jesus was a radical in his time. He went against the established religious practices of the day and challenged people to seek a higher spiritual plane. Many of the religious leaders and other people felt so threatened by him that his short dynamic ministry came to an abrupt end when he was betrayed and crucified.

If it is possible to be a left wing Christian then that’s what I am. I definitely believe that all Americans have a right to decent housing, health care benefits, education, and food. There should be no homeless people in one of the richest nations on earth, nor hungry individuals let alone starving children. Jesus was also a pacifist and so am I.

In the public school system there is suppose to be a separation of religion and state. Teachers are not supposed to impose their own philosophical views upon their students. The American culture is so diversified that even in the inner city I have had students from different ethnic groups as well as religious backgrounds and developing a climate of respect is extremely important. Here’s an interesting anecdote.

One afternoon in class after hearing gunshots outside the students were agitated and a girl stated that she was afraid. Before I could stop myself I asked the students how many of their parents and guardians prayed daily for their children’s safety. Every hand shot up in the class. Each child respected the fact that the adults in their lives prayed for their protection in a dangerous world.

Well…so much for separation of church and state.

Diary of an Inner City Teacher II

I guess people wonder why a teacher would be concerned about addiction. I empathize with the children sitting in my classroom whose lives have been negatively impacted by drugs and who suffer daily from the repercussions of having strung-out parents.

Drug addiction is a serious problem in the United States. It doesn’t matter whether they are prescribed or from the streets. They’re taking people out of here right and left. Drugs know neither racial boundaries nor economic walls. They’ll whip the mess out of the rich and famous as well as the economically disadvantaged; then move on to the middle class and anybody else who thinks they’re big enough or bad enough to beat them. The difference in outcome though is that the wealthy and the insured go to various rehabs and the less fortunate eventually end up in jail…money talks in this country loud and clear.

How many of you have loved ones, friends, or acquaintances struggling with this demon? If you don’t know of anybody personally have you heard about someone’s struggle through the grapevine?

As teachers we’re suppose to teach our students to say no to drugs yet when many of them go home there are folks getting high. Then children listen to their various electronic devices as rappers glorify the head trip or put on a DVD where characters are rolling up getting ready to get wasted.

How does a teacher separate society’s romantic image of getting stoned from the reality of addiction?

Kwanzaa Chant

Umoja...Umoja
Unity...Unity
Communities…need strong black families
Communities…need strong black families

Kuchichagulia…Kuchichagulia
Self determination...Self determination
Black History must be a part of education
Black History must be a part of education

Ujima…Ujima
Collective work and responsibility…Collective work and responsibility
Let’s work together on the problems in our communities
Let’s work together on the problems in our communities

Ujamaa…Ujamaa
Cooperative economics…Cooperative economics
Buy black... shop black... support black... give back
Buy black... shop black... support black... give back

Nia...Nia
Purpose…Purpose
The healing of our communities should be our main focus
The healing of our communities should be our main focus

Kuumba…Kuumba
Creativity…Creativity
Through our art we can express new realities
Through our art we can express new realities

Imani…Imani
Faith…Faith
Our belief in God will keep us day by day
Our belief in God will keep us day by day

That Star from Afar (holiday poem)

The holidays are drawing near
Hearts are filled with good tidings and cheer
The spirit of giving fills the air
Lights and decorations everywhere

Many people will celebrate the birth of Jesus
Who was born to give his life for us
He is that bright and morning star
That looks down from afar

His eternal light is shining bright
Offering mankind everlasting life
Constantly radiating His infinite invitation
To join Him in eternity’s jubilant celebration.

The Vigil

Indigence explodes raining shards of complacency on broken families

Violence points guns pulling triggers of ignorance killing innocence

Bullets speed quickly across barriers of time piercing the future

Parents are haunted by screams from beyond the grave of murdered children

The war is on

Crack and smak smiling illusions of happiness stand on the corner

Thieves steal through the night silent phantoms in the dark breaking into lives

Drugs rob the children

Hunger devours their strength

They sleep in anger

The streets lure the young with promises of riches stifling the spirit

Music from cars blasting curses and obscenities sing of degradation and humiliation

Mothers shed tears crying for children gone astray lost in shades of gray

Poverty marches on


Jesus is waiting
Silently keeping vigil
Through the long dark night

A Rough Day (Teetee's corner)

Today was a rough day in the neighborhood. Ole slew foot Violence, his flat foot cousin Addiction, and their buddy Affliction jumped Never Bothers Anyone and beat him into the hospital. I remember back in the day when the neighborhood watched out for the children. Not so anymore…craziness wanders the streets lookin’ for trouble. Angry little children just a fightin’ each other and people runnin’ to see who’s getting’ beat up.
Me, well I say its cause drugs done messed up the families. Folks all in jail…mamas, daddies, grandmamas, granddaddies…all behind an illusion…come on let’s get high…hey you wanna party? Let’s have some fun…you got the blues? Come on I know sumpin’ make you feel better…now if them ain’t famous last words. Next thing you know drugs done took over your life…mamas take food out they children's mouths and buy slippery joy...daddies robbing lookin' for hope at the bottom of a crack vial...
More folks in jail for drugs and all the dumb stuff it make you do…poor people ain’t got no money…that’s a bad combination…no money and a habit…now whatcha think gonna happen? People gonna get stupid and end up locked up and they babies end up in overcrowded houses or foster care...never feelin' secure...never feelin' loved...just anger, anger, and more anger!
Yeah sho' remind me of my friend's little boy...

The Choice (Teetee's friend))

What a lousy way to wake up. Deirdre’s nerves were on fire, her muscles ached and her head felt as if it were going to split in two. Opening her eyes, her glance took in the bulging ceiling, water stained walls, and a cracked mirror hanging over the bare dresser on which her purse lay. The cold winter sun, streaming through the dirt-streaked windows, exposed the ugliness of the little hotel room. She pulled the worn cover more tightly around her, wondering if she had any money left. She crawled out of bed, shivered, went to the dresser and opened her purse. There were only a couple of dollars, some loose change, a comb, her I. D., and her cell phone. Hmm! The phone would be cut off soon if she didn’t pay the bill. She sure needed a drink, and a hit off a blunt would also help ‘round about now. Damn! She tried to remember what she did last night but her mind was a complete blank. She had run into Junior, they went to the Glamour Inn, started drinking, but after that she couldn’t recall anything that happened. Here she was twenty-five years old and already suffering from black outs. She had to pull herself together.
A sudden banging at the door startled her.
“Who is it?”
“Check out time is at noon! You stay past the time you gotta pay more money!”
“Yeah-yeah I’m getting’ ready now,” Deirdre responded leaning on the dresser. Her head was throbbing.
“You got an hour lady. I need the room!”
Deirdre heard his footsteps as he plodded back down the hall to the stairs. How could this rat hole possibly be in demand? She looked at herself in the mirror. She shuddered…dull braids, dull complexion, and red eyes. This was momentary madness…insanity. Although she couldn’t remember the events of the previous evening, she did recall the preceding day with such clarity it gave her chills. Fired from her third job in a year, she had gone home, fought with her roommate Sharon about her share of the expenses, and to top it off, missed her son Jason’s sixth birthday party after promising him and Mama that she would be there. As she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, vibrations of paranoia took root in the pit of her stomach and mushroomed out of control making her nauseous. Bitter bile pushed its way from her pulsating stomach into her mouth forcing her to run from the room, down the dreary hallway into the bathroom where she vomited, gagging until she had nothing left in her.
She returned to the room, got back in the bed, pulled the cover over her head and wept silently. God! Where had she gone wrong? Everybody she knew from college was making it in the white man’s world except her. What a poor representative of black womanhood she had turned out to be…all her beautiful ideals, where were they now? Lately getting high had become such a thing…in order to work she got high…in order to clean the apartment she got high…before visiting Mama and Jason, she got high…what the hell was wrong with her anyway? She had nobody to blame but herself. She couldn’t say her Mama had beaten her or her Daddy had abused her. Her childhood was one of the happiest periods in her life.
Daddy died when she was young but still Mama somehow managed with four young children. She loved them all. They did things together. They went on picnics, traveled, and went to church. Yeah, it seemed like they went to church all the time. As a child she really liked going to church. She’d been baptized. She remembered that day. The church members had taken her and eight other children to a lake. The people sang while each one was dunked in the water. After that she got to join the adult choir. She loved to sing. Where had her joi de vivre gone? Why couldn’t life be that simple for her again? The few times she’d gotten herself together to go visit Mama and Jason she always ended up going to church. If she visited on the weekend, Mama would always insist. It would almost be like old times. On several occasions she almost decided to rejoin church and start attending on a regular basis, but at the last minute she always changed her mind.
Mama was constantly asking her if she wanted to be saved…saved from what? The white man? Black people’s madness? If anything…she needed to be saved from herself. Her body was telling her that she needed to get high right now…then she’d feel better…be able to work through her problems. Life used to be so uncomplicated. She needed to call Jason and Mama and apologize for yesterday. Deirdre crawled out of the bed, retrieved her phone from the dresser, and lay back down. She dialed the number. After a few rings the receiver was picked up and she heard her mother’s voice.
“Hello?”
“Mama, I’m so sorry about yesterday.” There was, what seemed to Deirdre, an interminable silence at the other end before her mother responded.
“Deirdre, are you alright?” Why’d her mother have to ask her that? Every nerve ending in her body screamed out a silent, resounding no!
“Mama, I wanna come see you and Jason today.” Her voice sounded teary and shaky.
“You sound like you’re about to cry. What happened?” Her mother insisted on questioning her.
“I got fired yesterday,” Deirdre said, “and I ain’t got no money to pay my bills, and no gift for Jason.”
There was another long pause before her mother answered, “It’s not about gifts, Jason is looking forward to seeing you. Your little boy worships the ground you walk on.” Her voice took on a sterner note. “Deirdre, you need to move back home and get yourself together.”
“Mama, believe it or not, I know that.” Deirdre felt herself getting sick to the stomach again. “Mama, I’ll see you later. I’m really coming this time. I’ll call you when I’m on my way. I gotta hang up.”
“Deirdre…” was all she heard before she laid the phone down, and made a mad dash back to the bathroom.
She returned to the room and got back in the bed. She didn’t care what the manager said; she wasn’t going nowhere until she felt better. She wondered if Junior was coming back. If only she could turn the clock back to happier times…like when she was in college… or when she had her first smoke of marijuana. One of the girls in the dorm had invited her and a few others up to her room to try it out. Wow! What a trip. They passed a couple of joints around. At first she didn’t feel anything. Then bang! All of a sudden she was laughing, laughing, and laughing. Everything was hilariously funny. Colors were sharp, vibrant, and alive…their auras waving and gyrating smothered her in their warmth. Billie Holliday singing “Good Morning Heartache” floated into her soul filling her inner self with past, present, and future tragedy. Nope! Things were not like that anymore. She didn’t even like smoke anymore.
Those were the days all right. That’s when she met Johnny Rafael, Jason’s father. What a beautiful man, so tall, so good-looking. She fell completely, absolutely, and forever in love with him. They were inseparable. She cut classes just to be with him. Pizza parlors…wine…deep meaningful discussions…is there a God?…the condition of black people…capitalism vs. socialism...all the other isms in life that could be talked about. Johnny sure could talk. He was verbal, creative, and such a volcanic person. Life with him was electrifying. Poetry at midnight, wine for breakfast, love at noontime, bush for dinner, and always talk, talk, and more talk. Even his talk about God not making the black man a monogamous creature intrigued her at first. After she found him in bed with another woman she knew she couldn’t handle sharing Johnny. He left for the West Coast before she knew she was expecting his child. She wanted to keep the baby. If she couldn’t have Johnny at least she would have his child. That way he’d always be with her.
She left college and went home. Her life moved in a daze. An emotional cloud continually surrounded her, fogging her perceptions, making her lose all sense of sound judgment. She was incapable of making any kind of decision…not even Jason’s birth brought her out of her depression. Mama was beautiful though, no nagging, no scolding…disappointment, hurt, yeah…but her love was still there. It was a difficult time for Mama too. The place Mama had worked the last twenty years went out of business. Mama was forty-five years old and out of work. Mama offered to keep Jason if she’d go back to school. She accepted, gave Mama legal custody of Jason, and left. She came to New York to find a job, and go back to school…anything to keep her mind off of Johnny Rafael.
Damn! It sure is cold in here…gotta get out of this bed…do something. How on earth could she face Sharon? The rent was due at the end of the week. What money she did have she blew last night. Sure would be nice to jump on a plane, go somewhere, lay on a white sandy beach in the hot sun, let the sun bake all her pain away. Maybe she should go down to Florida and visit her brother. He was doing well. She could stay with him until she got her own place…then she’d send for Jason. Now there’s a plan. If she went to Florida she knew she’d be able to stop this drug madness she’d been sucker punched into…this whirlwind of destruction. Mama wanted her to stay with her but that wasn’t going to work. She needed to leave this area, make a clean break. In a new environment she could do this…get back to who she was suppose to be…be a good mother to Jason. Maybe she could convince Mama to give her the bus fare.
If she got up and went on out into the streets, perhaps she’d run into Junior. He stilled owed her some money. Junior was cool with her. He had hang-ups like everyone else, but still he was there when she needed someone. They were get high buddies. She confided in him. He talked to her. They slept together sometimes, but it was all in the course of having a good time and being friends as opposed to anything romantic. First and foremost Junior was an addict. He played no games when it came to letting people know what his goal was in life…staying high.
Naw…instead of tracking Junior down she’d go straight out to Mama’s. Those couple of dollars in her purse was enough to get her to Jersey. If she was going to give it up she might as well cold turkey the entire situation right now. After all she wasn’t no addict. She’d snort a little dope, sometimes skin pop, but she wasn’t really strung out…she was just a person who liked to get high. She could get a job whenever she wanted. Most people thought she was pretty intelligent and she was a good talker…must be a hangover from the days with Johnny. Junior thought she could be a con artist…huh!…the day she had to lie, cheat, or steal to get high would be the day she gave it up. Well! Now is the time and the time is now!
God! Her stomach was hurting her something awful. What was that expression--no pain, no gain. She was going to do this! She was going to make herself get up and go on out to Mama’s. Seeing Jason always made her feel better. He was handsome like his daddy. Having Johnny for a father was not his fault. Sometimes she couldn’t help wonder what that bastard Johnny was doing. How could someone tell you that they love you, and then just pick up and split? It didn’t matter anymore though because she was going to bring that chapter in her life to a close. The memory of Johnny Rafael had screwed her up long enough. It was time to move on!
She loved Jason…he was the one positive in all the negativity. She was glad he was company for Mama. Mama had been able to get welfare for Jason and then, of all things, Mama went back to school. She was taking up computers…go ‘head Mama!
Slowly getting out of the bed Deirdre made her way to the chair in the corner, took her dress off of it and put it on along with her sweater. What a cruddy room. Vaguely she remembered coming there with Junior last night…that’s right…he borrowed the rent from her for this room in exchange for getting her high. Wonder where he got off to so early? It was a good thing that there was nothing romantic between them, both of them free to do whatever they pleased. She’d considered living with him once, but his lifestyle was a little too rugged for her. Now she was glad she hadn’t, one mistake with a man was enough…besides she liked the apartment she shared with Sharon. Except it seemed lately they were doing an awful lot of hassling and always over money. Her friendship with Sharon dated back to college. They met again of all places on the subway and decided to get an apartment together. That was four years ago. Time went by fast…didn’t seem that long. Sharon was supposed to be getting married next month…look like she’d lucked up and got herself a good man. Hey, everything happens for a reason. Deirdre stretched, trying to ease her aching muscles that were sending a clamor through her body, begging for relief…sure do feel weak…hurt all over. This was a good time to move home for a while, save on expenses. She didn’t have a job anymore. She felt cold …a little more heat in this place might make a person feel better…wonder if the hotel ran out of oil…what was their problem?…people didn’t pay hard earned money to freeze.
Oh man! This must be what it feels like to be an old lady. Deirdre walked stiffly to the closet to get her shoes and stockings. She bent over, picked them up off the floor and returned to the chair to put them on. She always felt sick and out of it these days. Never used to feel this way…maybe she was really getting a habit. Junior said so…Sharon too…hmm!…what did Sharon know? In their fight Sharon accused her of spending her share of the expenses on getting’ high. “What’s happening to you…you’re too intelligent to be in that scene…where’s your pride? What about your son…your mother? All those ideals you use to talk about at school…you’re suppose to be helping black people come out of this mess, not be sucked into it yourself. You ain’t never come out of that tailspin Johnny put you in. Girl you been spinning for six years now…about damn time you got yourself together if you ask me!” Hell who asked her? Boy she sure got a nerve, laying those words down like that, especially about Johnny…just ‘cause she had her a good man, think she can give advice, start telling folks what they ought to do.
Never mind all that, Sharon probably meant well. Deirdre bent over to fasten her shoes. It’s just that nobody knew how she felt…sometimes she didn’t even know how she felt. In her next life she was gonna be sure and tell God she wanted to come back rich…lay around her swimming pool…jet off to one of her many villas around the world…yeah she’d have an apartment in Manhattan, beach house in the Bahamas, a ranch in Texas…might even find some place to build a home in Africa. South Africa would be interesting…she always did admire Mandela. Then she’d have seven cars, one for each day of the week, and a private jet, and bathe in champagne…why not…sounded good to her. Hey, if a person has money ain’t no problem in life that can’t be handled. In the back of her brain, she could hear Mama saying, “Now Deirdre, money can’t buy everything, can’t buy your health, can’t buy your peace of mind, can’t buy your happiness.” Well, newsflash, Mama…to be rich and miserable is definitely preferable to being poor and miserable. That’s right! She was gonna become a super star, female rapper of the year. Tell the truth, nothin’ but the truth, her album would go platinum. Think big…you gotta think big or life would swallow you up. That wasn’t gonna happen to her. She was going all the way to the top… new roads to travel…mountains to climb…watch out world…it’s Deirdre’s time!
She went to the dresser, fluffed up her braids, and tried to brush them down with her hand. She had forgotten her brush. She didn’t look so good now, but when she moved back with Mama, got some good square meals under her belt. With some regulated rest, and when she stopped getting high, her good looks would return to her. Maybe she’d even go back and finish school…that would make Mama happy and Jason would have something to be proud about…a mother going to college. She already felt better. That’s all she had needed to do, make a decision, a choice, take a true look at herself and her lifestyle, and do something about it. She’d pick herself up by her bootstraps yet and make something of herself.
While getting her coat and hat from the closet she heard voices in the hallway outside the door. It sounded like Junior. Somebody put a key in the lock and the door opened. It was Junior. Tall, slender, dark skinned, black tightly curled hair, and handsome, but his seedy looking clothes totally detracted from his good looks. The guy with him was shorter, his face looked like he’d been fighting and he was equally as unkempt as Junior. Looking at them, Deirdre knew she’d made the right choice.
“Hey Dee, what’s happening?” Junior wanted to know. “You getting ready to go out? This here is Les. Les meet Dee.”
“Hey, Les” Deirdre responded.
“Dee, don’t go yet. I got a little something for us. Met ole Les in the streets, and we got down and went in on some stuff together. Heh man, have a seat.”
“Junior, as of right now I’m through with all of this,” Deirdre told him. “ It ain’t taking me nowhere. I’m moving back home, might go down to Florida and stay with my brother.” Deirdre took her hat out of her coat pocket, put it on her head, and pulled it down tightly over her braids.
She watched Junior as he busily searched through his pockets deep in conversation with himself. “Where’re my works? Oh yeah I remember now, I put them in the drawer.”
Tiredly, Deirdre addressed him, “Junior, you’re not listening to me.”
“Sure I am sweetheart. You know I really care about you baby, always have,” he said. “ Matter of fact, if there was anybody who could make me wanna stop using stuff, it’s you.”
“Yeah Junior, in your own way I know you care,” Deirdre automatically answered.
“Deirdre, you sure you don’t want one blast for the road…one last blast before you go south.”
Deirdre went to the window and looked out on the cold winter day. The sun was shining but she could feel the icy wind trying to force its way through the cracked windowsill. She saw people pushing their way against the wind, hunched over, and hugging their coats around them trying to keep warm. Yesterday’s garbage swirled in the frigid air, settled and then was stirred up again by a new gust of wind. Fear knotted her stomach, her hands began to tremble and the thought of being in the cold overwhelmed her. She did feel a little nauseous…maybe…no! She was going to quit, and she was going to do it now. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and put on her coat. Damn this coat feels thin…should have gone on and bought that winter coat. She watched Junior and Les make preparations. One last time might not hurt. No! No! No! She wasn’t going to do it…she was going to take a stand…make a choice! Slowly she made her way to the door.
“Junior, I’m outta here. I’ll be in touch.”
“Yeah babe, I’m gonna miss ya,” murmured Junior.
“Take care of your self man. Love ya! Les, nice meetin’ you.”
Deirdre saw that they were engrossed and very intent upon what they were doing. She opened the door. She shuddered as a sleek gray rat quickly made its way down the hall, and around the corner in the same direction she had to walk. Between the cold, the rat and the dismal hallway she could feel her determination slowly slipping away. If she could just make her legs move…this was like a bad dream…the monster was chasing her and she couldn’t run. She looked back into the room and saw Junior and Les nodding out. They sure looked like they felt no pain. That dope must be good…maybe one last time…this would be it…never again.
“Hey Junior… Junior!” Deirdre called loudly to him to wake him out of his stupor. “It is kinda cold out here. I think I could use a little something to warm me up…help me get ready for that long train ride.”
“Now you talkin’ baby…mmmn…dope sure is nice. Shit, if you want a real thrill, a last big ride, you need to pop that sucker right on in that vein. How ya doing Les?”
“It’s bangin’. Ooooweee, baby, you need to do like Junior say and fly to the moon girl…fly…fly…fly to the moon…uhmm…uhmm!”
She watched Junior and Les continue to nod out. She felt Jason and Mama weighing on her spirit…her baby boy’s laugh…his handsome face smiling up at her…Mama’s arms embracing her. She was going home. She was getting off this merry go round of destruction, forever. She looked at Les all bent over with blood running down his arm and Junior stretched out on the chair totally oblivious to his surroundings.
But Deirdre’s feet were rooted to the floor. She felt torn apart. Mama always did tell her that her spirit was willing, but her flesh was weak. Her body was shaking. She hesitated…she was really sick…there was no way she could make that long train ride to Newark…it was so cold outside…she could hear the wind wailing in the stairwell. One last high, absolutely her last…might not be so bad…help her on her way to Mama’s. You know, a goodbye taste. She’d never really shot no dope in her veins. Junior was always telling her it was the ultimate high…maybe this last time she’d go all the way…do it up right…why not? No longer lingering, she turned back into the room and quickly closed the door. She took off her coat and scarf. She hung them on the back of the door.
“Hey Junior! Wake up! You hear me man, I said wake up!”
“Huh? Mmmn…yeah. What’s happening, baby?” Junior said as he sat up on the chair.
“I’m gonna fly, Junior. I’m gonna do the thing…one for the road, love. I want you to do the honors…just a little something to help me home.” Deirdre stretched her arms out, and flapped them like a bird. “I wanna fly home. I’ve made up my mind, Junior. This is it! I’m going home.”
“Hey, no problem. You know I’m your man, Dee. Come sit down while I set you up.”
In a state of anticipation she watched Junior go through the ritual of preparing her dope. Just this one more time, then she was calling it quits with this life. She saw Junior draw her potion up into the dropper.
“Okay Dee, tie your arm up,” he said. “It makes the veins pop out better. Good. You sure got nice veins, baby. It makes hittin’ them a lot easier. Yeah! There it goes. Undo the tie.”
“Oooh…Junior…this…is…slammin…man…I…feel…a…rush…I…I…I…” Deirdre said haltingly, her speech slurred. She slumped to the floor. On setting darkness began to cloud her vision, filling her soul, pushing time aside, slowing it down, allowing her to mellow out in ecstasy. Her ears could hear. Junior was agitated about something. Was he shaking her? She felt no touch. She was in space. She was space.
“Dee, you alright? Hey Dee wake up baby. Dee come on girl wake up…don’t be freakin’ me out girl.” Deirdre couldn’t understand why he was hollering.
“Hey Les! Wake up man. Les! Les!” shouted Junior.
Deirdre wanted to say something but her tongue had disappeared. Her mouth was gone. Her mind struggled with a message. Junior you ain’t got to shout! I’m cool baby. I’m floating man…I’m floating…just wish I could see clearly…it’s cloudy …dark clouds…I can still hear you though…
“Les you gotta help me man! This girl done went and overdosed on me. Help me get her up and walk her around!”
Deirdre’s thoughts peeked in and out of the shadows of her mind. Junior, whatcha talking about? I ain’t overdosed nothing…you crazy…I gotta go to Jersey…gotta see Mama…gotta see Jason…I’m gonna change Junior…I’m gonna change…watch…you’ll see…
Junior was still sounding upset. “Les, come on and help me lift her!”
“Yeah, yeah!”
Together they lifted her limp body and tried to make her walk. There was no response. Her legs buckled under her weight. Darkness spinning like a cyclone moved towards her in an ominous fashion. Brief flashes of light penetrated the ensuing darkness…the men’s words weighed like stones on her heart…
“I don’t know Junior, she sure look funny. Look at her color!”
“Damn it man, help me walk her.” The fear was evident in Junior’s voice. “Don’t just stand there talking shit!”
“Walk hell man! The bitch don’t look right to me! I’m getting’ out of here.”
As Les let go of Deirdre’s arm, Junior dropped to his knees and held her close. In a daze he cradled Deirdre in his arms.
Disembodied voices…garbled, angry words…waning…
“Hey Junior, I’ll take the stuff with me, case somethin’ happen to the broad won’t be no implication on you.’
“Get the fuck outta here!” Junior bellowed. Quickly Les snatched up everything, grabbed his coat, and left.
The whirlpool of darkness encircled Deirdre. No more light…complete silence...just spinning…spinning…spinning into the vortex of turbulence…then falling into the chasm of existence…where there is no more resistance to the inevitability of reality…finally…arriving at that place in space where the beginning is the end, and the end is the beginning.

Junior continued to sit quietly in the shabby hotel room holding her in his arms. Every now and then in a hushed tone he would call out to her.“Dee baby, wake up.”

Addiction (Teetee's corner)

Today I was traveling on the go road minding my business when I see Addiction in the far distance. She’s dippin’, noddin’, spacin’, racin’, scratchin’ the day away like she don’t have a care in the world but I know different. When she snaps outta the zone she gotta deal with that gorilla she got on her back. You heard of a monkey on the back? Well sista got a gorilla on her that gotta be fed. She’ll beg, borrow, or steal your money, my money, her baby’s daddy's money…even her own mama’s money…it don’t matter.

I think of all them children whose lives ain’t nothin’ but a tapestry woven with strands of issues…daddy incarcerated, mama strung out, hearts aching for love…and the strands stretch into an angry existence then join up with them swirlin’, twirlin’, demons that saturate the stratosphere shootin’ darts into the hearts of unsuspecting children who plummet into the depths of darkness spiraling downward into pandemonium to become mere specters in their race with destiny.

In the meantime the big bosses sit on they high horses mulling over high fillutin' words...whatcha call 'em?... rubrics and rigor...(that sound like death to me)...totally ignoring the real deal of the streets cloggin' up the lines of young minds...or better yet...may be the big bosses just don't care!!!

Diary of an Inner City Teacher II

My name is Tamam Tracy Moncur and I 'm a 6th grade math teacher in the Newark Public School system. I’ve lived in Newark, NJ for thirty seven years…longer than I've lived anywhere else. I’m originally from California…born and raised there for the first eighteen years of my life. On a ferry boat ride to San Francisco during one of my visits back, a lady told me that you can take the girl out of California but you can’t take California out of the girl. My formative years were spent in the Bay Area. I grew up in Oakland, Berkeley, and a couple of years in San Francisco. I attended middle school and high school in Berkeley. Berkeley took me, molded me, stamped me radical and then shipped me to the east coast. I’ve lived here ever since.

I wrote a book entitled “Diary of an Inner City Teacher”. I said in that book and I reiterate it now; the educational hierarchy still remains oblivious to the reality of the social issues clogging the lines to the minds of the American youth. These words are simply magnified in the inner city.

At one time in my career I was enrolled in a masters course at Montclair State University and we were assigned a book to read filled with essays dealing with public education. One essay in particular grabbed my fancy. It was written by a Rutgers professor and basically stated that the public education system is inherently designed to maintain the class status. In other words if you’re in the economically deprived class, the working class, so called middle class, up to that 3% that controls the American wealth that will be your economic destiny. There will be some exceptions but for the most part the masses will remain right where they are, and of course the word mass is not part of that 3% club.

Question: How does this premise shape the reality of inner city teachers?

Happiness is... (poem)

Happiness is
A suspended moment in time
Caught up on a moonbeam
Shimmering over the ocean forming a pathway of escape
From the reality of what is…

Happiness is
The orange, the pink, and the red hues
Of a never failing sunrise
Stretching forth in peace and solitude across the horizon
Heralding a new day…

Happiness is
A child’s excitement
Captured in capsules of love
And released into space racing with the wind
Creating and generating a new well being…

Happiness is
Enchantment lighting dark places
Sparking the imagination
To bloom into a field of wildflowers
Allowing fantasy to run free

Happiness is
The heart of mankind beating the drum of unity
Seeking the pulse of a people
With voices lifted in harmony
Singing the song of difference…
…

The Go Road (poem)

On the go road lights speeding into darkness
Disappear into the abyss of time
Only to find yesterday
Neatly filed in its place in space

On the go road
Memories fly by
Ecstatically leaping
Alternately weeping
Drowned in sounds
Bumping thumping
Crashing clanging
Exploding into an eclectic energy
This disperses regurgitated fantasies

On the go road
Straight ahead is the way
Following the gyrations of the vibrations
Focusing on the one
Until the day is done
And the sun has sunk
Beneath the funky beat of the street
Pump it! Pump it! Pump it!

On the go road
Triumphs intermingle with frustration
To form a volatile cocktail
Sending the recipient
Reeling into the atmosphere
Only to reappear and renew the cycle
Incessantly seeking a new and diverse discovery
To leave footprints of remembrance