Successful

For work, once a quarter, we have to write a "great story." Normally I think it's stupid because it's generally used to parade our successes as though it's never hard. But I wrote this one today, about last night, and for the first time I felt like it was a great story worth telling. Maybe because it's not about my success, it's about the success of those who deserve to be noticed.

In order to understand the triumph of the young men in the leadership program, it’s important to understand their oppression.

I developed the young men’s leadership program in reaction to an understanding of the environment. My community is largely comprised of single mothers and young grandmothers raising their children. There are virtually no positive male role models to be seen. During one session, we began talking about childhood- I asked who they looked up to as a kid. Out of the five who were there that day, one boy (one!) said that he looked up to his father, a father who was no longer around due to the confusion surrounding refugees and immigration status. Of the rest, two said the person they looked up to as a child is currently serving life in prison. One said the person he looked up to as a kid is now a gang leader. One could not think of a single male in his life that encouraged him (until his high school coach). Then there were the parents. I can’t count the times that parents came up to me, not knowing what to do with their boys. Big Brothers, Big Sisters currently has a three year waiting list for boys (it’s about two months for a girl). And there was nowhere else to go. So I started the leadership program.

The idea was that maybe, instead of trying to find people to invest in our community, we could raise up people to actually create sustainable change. Originally we thought it would be a sports and leadership program- with the sports aspect as an incentive. However, within the first two weeks, the boys requested that we not play sports when the leadership activity was finished (they all were in sports) so that we could more time on the leadership part. And so we proceeded. It was a 10 week program, during which we had the honor of some amazing and prestigious speakers, without whom it would have been nothing. We also had a twenty-something guy that came consistently and connected incredibly well with the young men. I owe all my gratitude to them.

The first 7 weeks were comprised of various speakers presenting on the different forms of leadership, but the last three weeks were a chance for them to put their new found skills into practice. Going back a bit, I want you to get a glimpse of how I have seen them treated, and maybe that will help explain why this is such a big deal.

These are good boys. I mean genuinely good. Not good in comparison to the other boys around them. Not good in light of the violence and poverty and images they see compelling them to act another way. Not good, for young, black, urban males. They are good in and of themselves; relative to anyone I dare you to set them against. I know this, because in the past year I have watched each of them show honesty, consistency, and responsibility in every aspect of their lives in the midst of the kinds of circumstances that would have made me, for one, fly off the handle. I can say with confidence that anyone who knew them would agree.

And yet, in spite of this, I have watched people- people who should know better- claim that they are incapable of, for example, playing basketball without it ending in a gang fight. Something went missing once- something which, statistically, is highly unlikely that anyone in their demographic would have any interest in, let alone that they are not thieves- and yet we were told that “you have to really watch those people. They steal things.” “Those people,” of course, referring to any young black men. This happened. It was the closest I was to violence in my career. I was told that I need extra security because if left alone with them they would probably rape me- yes, specifically told this- when I can confidently tell you I am at more danger from the mothers in the community than these particular young men. Heck, I would even go as far to say I am more danger from my coworkers than these boys. This my personal experience of hearing them labeled over and over as bad, worthless, dangerous, uncontrollable. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have assumptions placed on you about your ability to deal with authority, your work ethic, your morality every time you apply for a job, or shop in a store, or walk down the street. I hope and pray that if I ever have children, they do not have to experience going through life with the automatic assumption that they are evil, an assumption that- even with actions proving them contrary- they can never fully shake.


As I said, the last three weeks involved the use of appreciative inquiry to talk about their lives, the issues facing the community, and their role in changing the world around them. Then we used these thoughts and ideas and created a program. They decided that many of the problems that are caused are as a result of boredom- when you have no access to entertainment or positive activities, you become destructive. Then, by themselves, they designed a game night for the final outcome of the program. They worked with a budget to decide what food they wanted. They talked about how they would keep it safe and peaceful. They decided what ages should be allowed, how they would get parent permission, and passed out the permission slips. They talked about how to handle any situations that might arise. They decided what games they would have and who would bring them and how to make sure the wii didn’t get broken. All this they did while I sat at the table next to them reading (and eavesdropping) so that they would be forced to do it on their own.

When the day came, the boys came early to set up. Since they had decided they wanted to have a family style meal, they set each place. Long before the program was scheduled to begin, kids were banging on the doors like zombies trying to somehow magically push their way through the glass. So one of the boys went outside, told them if they continued to bang on the door that the night would be cancelled and shut it.

When it came time to let them in, one of the young men- a young man who, I might add, did not say more than three words the entire first 4 weeks of the program- walked outside with more confidence than I had ever seen in him, proceeded to line up the kids, explain the rules, and let them in one by one by calling their name off their permission slips.

The night was perfect. Better than I could have done. The guys were fun, attentive, strong leaders. There was less yelling or misbehaving than I have ever, ever, seen at any of the many programs I did this year. If a problem began to arise, they took turns dealing with it calmly and respectfully. I had enormously high expectations of them, and they exceeded them all. But, as unbelievably proud of them as I was (and am) it was nothing compared to how proud of themselves they were. Having never had the experience of being trusted and encouraged, this was a break in a life of constant battling against prejudice to prove their inherent worth. I got the opportunity to take each of them aside that night to tell them how proud of them I am and to give them some of their rewards for having completed the program: a t-shirt, a framed certificate, and a personal recommendation letter (the savings bonds will come in shortly). One of the boys began to tear up when I told him about the letter of recommendation. He asked if he could make copies and use it for finding a job or if it was just for college. I told him to make as many copies as he wanted.

I think the really amazing thing about the night though, was watching how the other kids looked at the guys. At first they were shocked when they would ask me for another slice of pizza and I told them to ask the young men who were in charge. Less than 30 minutes into the game night, however, they started imitating them. This was especially true for the younger boys, who asked if they could help pass out food, wipe down tables, throw out trash or vacuum (the last of which would have been very inconvenient since the room was packed and games were being played).

Earlier that day I was worried if my year of service meant anything, if I had made any lasting impact at all. My impact was temporary, but the impact of these boys is incalculable. All of them are now talking about college, school work, careers. They see themselves as smart, capable role models. They know what it means to be a leader and they know that they are up to the challenge. I had the amazing opportunity to help them see themselves, maybe for the first time, as having vast potential. But all I really did was help them to see themselves for who they are.




tl;dr version: WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S TOO LONG?! READ IT FOOL.

curmudgeon

While I am a particular stickler for avoiding plagiarism at all costs, I am particularly fond of so many words that others have use.
Dear Kimi,
I found this thing that you said and I really liked:
Kimberly: hes a curmudgen
me: i find that word refreshing and adorable
Kimberly: except in his case its negative and smells of mothballs and pride
me: I imagine an ill-kept mustache and condescending eyebrowns
Kimberly: how about an ill kept beard, 5'4" and bald, and a disapproving head shake on constant repeat

job hunt and gather

It’s about that time again. Yes, that time when I must embark on the world’s single most frustrating experience. Job hunting.
Hyperbole?
Potentially. Because I mean, yes, I can think of several more frustrating experiences, such as having to get up every day and go to work in a place where you believed you would be in a challenging and rewarding position only to discover that your company possesses the same high-powered soul vacuum as any other. Or if you had a pet that tried to suffocate you in your sleep despite you having long, heart-felt talks about how that hurts your feelings and your lungs, or someone tapping you on the forehead when you mess up. Or something.
Maybe, but all I know is job hunting sucks. It sucks like a vortex, like a black hole. And here I am having to do it. Again.

For those of you who have not recently embarked on the task of job hunting, the following are the stages one in its midst is likely to experience:

Procrastination (part one): In which the applicant finds numerous reasons to not begin the job hunting process, including (but not limited to), I’ll wait until the economy turns around, I’m still needed here, It’s too early to start, I really want to get my teeth flossing under control before I commit to something new, My internet mysteriously went out when I hit the box with a baseball bat, I suddenly have the urge to start theater and need a financially stable day job to support my passion, and (most commonly) I’ll start just as soon as I am not cowering in the corner out of fear.

Excitement: In which the applicant sees the world as full of possibilities. Move across the world? Why, yes, I can! Use all the skills and education I have ever gained in an integrated way? Oh definitely! Find a high-paying, stimulating, socially just job with incredible benefits, ideal coworkers, and perfect hours? Yes! I can have that too!
Incidentally, it is at this stage that everything wrong with the current place comes into harsh contrast. Thoughts such as how bad the hours are, how much paperwork there is, or how your coworkers refuse to call you Sir Awesometon are more and more apparent as you drudge through you work day.

Note: no actually job searching or applying occurs in this phase.

Over-Confidence: This is the stage that I, personally, get stuck in for a large portion of the search. The longer this lasts, the harder the fall (see Rejection: parts one and two). This is the stage in which the applicant becomes convinced that they are capable of all things, and that the employer will recognize the massive untapped potential within the applicant. This stage has led me to apply for things such as –and again, not limited to- UN Secretary General, Senior Economic Analyst, CEO positions, various positions requiring advanced degrees in economics, physics, history, psychology, social work or upwards of 15 years experience and (most recently) Senior Multi-Function Financial Analyst for Lockheed Martin. This is not a joke. I have a real problem

Procrastination (part two): This occurs because the applicant has convinced themselves that they are fully qualified for all the ridiculous jobs that any rational person could see that they are not. As a result, the applicants see no validity in continuing to apply for “lesser” and “nonideal” jobs because, obviously, they are going to get that one incredible job that they-they and nobody else- applied for.

Rejection (part one):
Dear Applicant;
Thank you for your interest in our company. After reviewing your application it is clear that you are either delusional or on drugs to have applied to a position so out of your league. For your sake we hope you applied on accident or because you lost a bet. Although we generally would not even dignify something this ludicrous with a response, in this case we are obligated to notify you that your application has been used in our company newsletter in the “Laughs” section as a way to boost morale. Please do not contact us with any further questions,

Thank you and best of luck,
Management


Under Confidence: A reaction to Rejection in which the applicant feels convinced they are nothing, have no education, experience, or ability to perform at a level above a two year old child. Applicants model this emotion by, in turn, acting like a two year old child. Indicative of this phase is the tendency to cry, pout, complain loudly to anyone who can hear, complain quietly to pets and/or stuffed animals, call parents to complain and demand sympathy, lie on the floor in a melodramatic heap.
Note: No actually job searching or applying occurs in this phase.

Desperation: In which the applicant applies to everything they can find, including those jobs not in their field, or for which they are vastly overqualified.

Procrastination (part three): During which all endeavors seem equally interesting, that is to say all are equally more interesting than job searching. This includes catching up on emails and phone calls, deep cleaning, cooking elaborate dinners, exercising, and friendship bracelet making.

Interviewing: As a result of the Desperation phase, the applicant has managed to apply for and receive an interview in various placements. The goal of this phase is to flirt enough that the interviewers like you, but not so much that they feel you will be a competitive force in the cut-throat office flirting sector.

Rejection (part two): In which the applicant discovers someone has better interview flirting skills.

Dear Applicant,
We loved you. You were perfect and amazing. It’s not you, really, it’s us. We’re just looking for something a little different right now, you know? And, well, we met someone and just hit it off really well
I’ll always have you in my heart,
The Management

The Tease:“We will keep your application on file”

Victory (?): Finally, too exhausted and jaded to enjoy it, the applicant receives an offer, decides that nothing better is likely to come along, and accepts. Subsequently, applicant blows entire first pay check on things they have promised themselves they would buy when they “finally had money.” As a result, the newly employed job searcher cannot afford to feed themselves and live off rice for the following two weeks.

a trivia game

(played with 9 year olds)

What country do we live in?
-Ohio!
No, what country
-(different kid) Ohio!
That's still not the answer.
-(yet a third kid) Ohio!
That's a state. What country do we live in?
-Alabama?
Noooo
-(smug kid, waiting as he sees his peers be wrong, says with condescension) Columbus
What? No. That's a city
South America!
That's a continent. What country do we live in?
Ohio?

this is a true story.

Absurd

I just want to throw this out there:
Someone got stabbed in my community over a fight about a firefly
yeah, a firefly. as in lightening bug

I mean, a firefly?

A FIREFLY for goodness sake

how does catching lightening bugs escalate to a stabbing?
I do not know.

absurd.

there was a shooting while I was at work

gang wars. maybe twenty shots fired between three guys as they ran all the way across the complex, including the playground which, by a miracle of God, was clear of the 40-50 kids that are normally swarming it at that time. Nobody was hurt.

But I don't want to talk it. I want to talk about something else.

I want to make it clear that I get all the arguments for capitalism and the capitalist-like mentality that is applied to social issues- if you cannot change on your own, why should the government intervene. I really, really do.

It's probably the hardest part of my job, balancing these voices in my mind saying that people have personal responsibility with the ones that say they are also victims of a very real, very flawed system; a system I can help undermine a little if I love people enough. Maybe I can help a few people, or one neighbourhood, change for the better. Maybe I can't, or I can but it's not worth the cost. Maybe I can if I can just believe that it's worth it, that there is a point.

Perhaps it's true that capitalism, like chaos, is the natural way of things, that to which all things fall in the absence of socially constructed order. Maybe, like death and disease, it is inevitable that people suffer because of a fallen system.

I do not believe, however, that this means we shouldn't fight against them, or that it's right.

I am not an idealist by naiveté. I am an idealist by choice.

And I believe that in the end the greatest argument for hope is that without it, we don't stand a chance.

tl;dr version: this got a little political, I'm sorry

I have like 4 posts half finished. Instead I'm doing this.

"I figured out what I want to make a poster about nonviolence say: 'real men don't fight or sag'"
"I don't care if you sag. I just don't want you to fight."
"Really? because in my school there are signs all around that have that slogan."
"Yeah, I really don't care, as long as you can walk or run without them falling down and I can't see your underwear."
"It doesn't make me bad?"
"As far as I'm concerned, your choices and actions make you bad, not what you wear."
*stunned silence, then:
"I have to tell... everybody."