When Elijah was a newborn, I was all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. After all, I felt on top of the world. I was finishing my last semester in college. I’d read to him my American Literature books for my English final exams, and big psychology books for my minor in psychology. It was a win-win situation, I thought. We read my books, and children’s books that were gifted to us early on in the pregnancy. I found that reading to my son, made us engage together and it also helped with spending quality time together as a family. It was great and I felt like we were off to a good start!
What woke me up last night at 3am was this thought: “how, in the face of so much pain, do we hold on to hope?” As I lay in bed, I couldn’t help but to think of the earthquake victims in Nepal and the community of Baltimore, rebelling against a long-corrupt system of police misconduct.
In an effort to build trust in the classroom, a 3rd grade teacher in Colorado asked her students to write notes about what they wished the teacher knew. She called the assignment, "I Wish My Teacher Knew." The teacher knew what she was facing with many of her students coming from low income households, or single parent famililes. But, when the students returned to class with their assignment done, she didn't expect many of the heartbreaking reponses she received.
Growing up, I was told that education was not something to be taken lightly. My parents reminded us that we were in fact “lucky” to have the opportunity to begin my educational career in the suburbs because of the Chapter 220 program. 30 years ago for my parents, it was a no-brainer to send us to a school 45 minutes away from home because they believed the suburban schools would yield the greatest return on their investment.