Baby Daddy

The best job I ever had was teaching middle school Language Arts in a predominantly Black school in Maryland. The reasons were many. I had a safe, professional environment to work in, and co-workers that I liked and respected. I had a wonderful Principal that gave me the support and autonomy that fueled my confidence and creativity. Most importantly, I had incredible relationships with my students and their parents. This was from 1999 to 2001, before “No Child Left Behind”. We did have standardized tests, (we called them “Functional Exams”) that were designed to ensure that students had the basic skills that would be required in high school, but they did not have the severe consequences for failure that today’s exams carry. 

My classes had three primary objectives. I expected my students to become better readers, writers, and listeners. The curriculum was my suggested path, but my creativity was my secret to reaching my students.

My students had the same homework assignment every day for the entire year. The assignment was written on the chalkboard and remained there for all to see for the entire year. My students were required to write an essay in a notebook explaining what they had learned that day. I made it clear to them and their parents that homework was 40% of their grade. They could not pass the class if they did not do it, and it would be hard for them to fail if they did. One day of each week was dedicated to students standing before the class and reading homework essays. The students would be graded on how well they read their essays and on how well they listened to others read.

The school did not have a computerized grading system so I bought one. I explained to my students that instead of me “giving” them a grade, they would actually “earn” their grade. The computer was going to do the math, and EVERY grade would count. Daily accountability was a foreign concept for my students, but one they would embrace quickly and benefit from in the future.

I checked each of my student’s grades every two weeks. I called the parent of every student that had a grade less than “C”. I would explain the reason the student was doing poorly, explain the grading system, and very quickly earn the respect, cooperation and loyalty of the parent. Usually, the problem was homework, and once the parent understood the assignment and its overall impact, it would cease to be a problem.

The power of relativity is vastly underrated when it comes to education. When I had to teach my students poetry, I knew that they would learn more by studying the words of Curtis Mayfield than Robert Frost, so we studied Curtis Mayfield. When we studied drama I let them write their own plays. I also would have a drama production for the entire school, with each student required to perform some role either onstage, backstage, or promotional.

I realized that some of my students were better readers than others, so to make sure that they could comprehend the assigned reading material, I would read critical passages to the class regularly. It seemed as if they enjoyed that as much as anything we did.

Most of my students were very successful in my classes. They passed the functional exams at a rate that exceeded 90%. They would often laugh about them when they were over, saying “we do that stuff every day”. I was very proud of them, and I felt a sense of accomplishment and self-worth that I will always cherish. One of my traditions was to have my students do meaningful work until the last minute of the last day of school. When the bell rang and they were dismissed, I would hug each of them before they left the classroom for the last time. When they were all gone I would sit at my desk and think about how much each of them had grown, how much each of them meant to me. I would think of their parents as well, and how they had trusted me to challenge their children to be better students and better people. 

That was the best job I ever had.

The first time my Principal approached me about being a Principal I told him I was not interested. I remember telling him that the reason I felt the way I did was because I got to fall in love 150 times every year. However, he was not a man that was easily dissuaded. He made me a member of the school’s “leadership team”, a group of teachers that he met with weekly to discuss the issues he was dealing with as a Principal. He had us create portfolios of our accomplishments, and lectured us about the importance of trained leaders in the field of education.

His winning argument for me was when he told me that he understood how my 150 kids were important to me every year, but if I was a Principal, I could have a similar impact on 1500 kids a year.

I had not realized or focused on how many Black students live in single parent homes until I became a high school Principal. The majority of my students did. The census bureau puts the number at 55% nationally. The American Community Survey puts the number at 70%. Reality is surely higher in some places, lower in others. Regardless, I will never forget the countless women that I have met with for reasons good and bad that were grappling with issues that would have been difficult for two parents, and damned near impossible for one.

So many times I have heard Black mothers look hopelessly in my eyes and simply say, “I just don’t know what to do”. So many times I have heard them say, “Can you help me?” I have seen anger, frustration, disappointment, confusion, shock and dismay. I have known mothers that have wanted and expected me to discipline, educate, and help to feed their children. Mothers that wanted me to help their children go to college, cut them some slack, or get them out of jail. I have had mothers that wanted me to pray with them, hold them, and dry their tears. 

There were so many mothers that wanted me to be their baby’s daddy.

It might be possible to do that for 150, but not 1500.

Curtis Mayfield once said, “I ain’t gonna point no fingers, and I don’t want nobody to point no fingers”. But the number of Black children in America living in poverty without the financial, emotional, and parental support of BOTH parents is a travesty and a tragedy. Married or not, every human being has a moral responsibility to take care of the children they bring into this world.

I understand why all of those mothers wanted their Principal to love, discipline, nurture, and support their children, but those things are in the job description for a father, not a Principal.