Some photographs are never clear; we can only guess or interpret the grainy images before us. In the picture above, I’m standing in front of a classroom bulletin board, circa 1990. I stood before a classroom full of troubled teenage girls housed in a facility called Northwest near Wyoming and Feinkel in Detroit. One of my most memorable moments had to be the day after the Pistons won their first or second NBA basketball championship—as I approached Monte Vista, the dead-end side street where I usually parked my car—I had to dodge broken glass and newsstands thrown into the middle of the road. My sleepy students informed me of the celebratory gunshots they heard all night long.
Another time, before I knew any better, I stopped to grab breakfast at the McDonald’s on Wyoming. After telling a prostitute in the parking lot that I wasn’t interested in what she had to offer, I went into the restaurant and placed my order. As I sat down in a booth, the prostitute reappeared, sliding in next to me. I threatened to get the manager; so in a last ditch effort, she told me she was a crack addict and needed some money to feed her children. I simply replied, “You’ll have to find it elsewhere.”
Yet another memorable moment had to be the ongoing use of an outdated textbook on Health and Hygiene. I’d have my students take turns reading the pages outloud, only stopping to interpret the silly cartoon messages peppered throughout each chapter. “Teisha, please read the bubble above the character,” I said. The other students objected, mainly because Teisha wasn’t pregnant like the rest of them. “I’d be glad to,” Teisha proudly responded, and then in a loud retaliatory voice she said, “Quit your urgin’ be a virgin.”
Lastly, I notice from the hazy image, the word “Happy” in the upper right hand corner of the picture. In an attempt to get my students to feel better about themselves, I had them decorate the bulletin board. Of course, the central figure happens to be a baby, sandwiched between Roger Rabbit and a duckling.
This was my first teaching job and I never did stick around long enough to see whether any of these girls succeeded in life. On a sadder note, the Detroit Free Press has been covering a torture case involving a Tamika Williams, 30, and her adopted twin girls. Could this be the 13-year old Tamika that once sat in my classroom? And if so, what triggered her to use her children as human ashtrays?
9 comments:
I love old photos just cos the of the memories that they hold.
I hadn't heard of the Tamika Women but I have now and I have no words.
Jim, that's really sad. A difficult environment to work in, for those girls to live in, day in day out. And children repeating the cycle. We hear of stories about people who grew up in dead-end places and yet make a difference for themselves. What sets them apart, do you think?
I love the picture -- it's really evocative and sad. As for child abuse, there are no words for some of the things that go on.
R: probably luck as much as anything else (a la Woody Allen).
Not quite the same McD's I first ate at as a kid ;) (comsic wavelengths?)
Is prison education any cheerier?
Three cheers and a drink at some happy hour -- and happy MLK weekend (which I hope you get off) Love the photo, too.
'E
R: probably luck as much as anything else (a la Woody Allen).
Not quite the same McD's I first ate at as a kid ;) (comsic wavelengths?)
Is prison education any cheerier?
Three cheers and a drink at some happy hour -- and happy MLK weekend (which I hope you get off) Love the photo, too.
'E
JR I saw crack babies being born at Grace Northwest not far from where you had breakfast. I often wondered what would become of them, and often wonder now if they are not the same students we are trying to teach. Sad post. Nice picture. The fuzzyness defines the time.MW
We have heard of that Tamika woman even here in Vancouver. It's unbelievably awful. How do people get to be like that?
Josie
“Quit your urgin’ be a virgin.”
Now that's a catchy phrase that's bound to inspire abstinence.
After listening to the horror stories from a friend who works in an urban elementary school, I've come to the conclusion that troubled children come from troubled parents. It's hard to turn troubled youth into adults who value humanity when they themselves were never valued by their parents.
I fully agree with the above comments. It is to bad that these kids end up like their parents or ex-parents. I wouldn't want to live in that neighborhood unless there really was HOPE. Drive thrus are the way to go.... --Bro, Ron
Post a Comment