A good part of my work-year is spent scoring essays for one set of standardized tests or another and in doing so I see some pretty interesting stuff written by kids here and there around the country. Sometimes I see things though that really get to me, essays that for whatever reason really tug at my heart. I don’t know what reminded me of one of those essays now, since it was three or four months ago that I read it, but one in particular has been haunting me today.
The piece was written by what I have to assume is a black student, since he identified himself as such, going to school in an urban area somewhere. The essay was about a friend of his that had been shot and killed and how he was coping – or not coping – with it, and about a relative of his that was in prison for one reason or another. The thing is, it was a beautiful essay, poetic even in its structure and use of words with an opening paragraph or two that drew me into his life and his misery. The gist of it was pretty simple – life sucks, or maybe just that life is impossibly unfair – and though the subject matter was very unfamiliar to me – a white, suburban-bred, guy who has never lost anyone he knew to either the law or violence – it still spoke to me directly. For that matter, it even forced a tear to my eye. Or rather, enough tears that I had to leave the room and take a break.
Problem is, as amazing as the essay was, it was off-topic for the purposes of the examination and therefore did not receive credit.
I don’t know, for some reason today I’ve been thinking about that damned essay and what the broader implications of it to the world at large. Maybe it was that I saw something about Eminem on MTV and I got to thinking about how so many rappers are really quite creative and intelligent people, wonderful people even, except that they are driven by and embrace what I guess could be called a “thug” lifestyle. They, and by “they” I can think of the likes of Coolio and Snoop Dogg and several others that I have seen interviewed on one show or another or seen as guests on shows like Politically Incorrect, have great minds, both politically and artistically and yet they seemingly throw it away writing about gang wars, “bitches”, and themselves. They are so immersed in their gritty world that that is all they can write about, perhaps, or maybe it’s just that they know that such material sells better than other stuff would.
And it kills me to think that so many people are so entrenched in a world where the dirty underside of humanity – crime, hate, poverty – is so pervasive that they cannot escape it. Schooling becomes secondary to survival as does contemplation of the more profound aspects of life. Fear of death overcomes hope. Fear of being hated takes precedence over individuality. And the list goes on. And I am not talking about just the inner-city black kids, but rather everyone that lives in conditions that are less than comfortable, or at least do not provide a few key things like security, food, shelter, and the like.
How many people are left behind by our society and the fact that we do not care about those less better-off than ourselves? How many Einsteins, or Hemmingways, or Lincolns, or Platos, are left wasting their talent in games of mere survival instead of getting the education that they need in order to develop themselves to their full potential? I wonder sometimes if our technological prowess wouldn’t be vastly superior if we did care. I wonder if people wouldn’t be dying of cancer, if cars wouldn’t be driven on clean fuels, if computers wouldn’t be a thousand times faster today if we didn’t forget these poor kids whether they’re in downtown Detroit or in the middle of Appalachia or where ever and offer them an out or at least some sort of safe haven, or maybe even made it possible for their families to earn a decent living, whether or not they were educated themselves so as to not perpetuate the problem generation after generation after generation.
To see that a kid has ability, has potential that will more than likely never be realized – or at least has a better chance of being spilled with the blood of a drive-by shooting than being actualized – is disheartening to say the least. Especially when that potential is not even enough to garner enough credit on a test to pass, especially when that potential is forced aside by the cruel realities that too many are forced to survive in. How can a kid learn when their best friends’ death is first and foremost on their mind?
The piece was written by what I have to assume is a black student, since he identified himself as such, going to school in an urban area somewhere. The essay was about a friend of his that had been shot and killed and how he was coping – or not coping – with it, and about a relative of his that was in prison for one reason or another. The thing is, it was a beautiful essay, poetic even in its structure and use of words with an opening paragraph or two that drew me into his life and his misery. The gist of it was pretty simple – life sucks, or maybe just that life is impossibly unfair – and though the subject matter was very unfamiliar to me – a white, suburban-bred, guy who has never lost anyone he knew to either the law or violence – it still spoke to me directly. For that matter, it even forced a tear to my eye. Or rather, enough tears that I had to leave the room and take a break.
Problem is, as amazing as the essay was, it was off-topic for the purposes of the examination and therefore did not receive credit.
I don’t know, for some reason today I’ve been thinking about that damned essay and what the broader implications of it to the world at large. Maybe it was that I saw something about Eminem on MTV and I got to thinking about how so many rappers are really quite creative and intelligent people, wonderful people even, except that they are driven by and embrace what I guess could be called a “thug” lifestyle. They, and by “they” I can think of the likes of Coolio and Snoop Dogg and several others that I have seen interviewed on one show or another or seen as guests on shows like Politically Incorrect, have great minds, both politically and artistically and yet they seemingly throw it away writing about gang wars, “bitches”, and themselves. They are so immersed in their gritty world that that is all they can write about, perhaps, or maybe it’s just that they know that such material sells better than other stuff would.
And it kills me to think that so many people are so entrenched in a world where the dirty underside of humanity – crime, hate, poverty – is so pervasive that they cannot escape it. Schooling becomes secondary to survival as does contemplation of the more profound aspects of life. Fear of death overcomes hope. Fear of being hated takes precedence over individuality. And the list goes on. And I am not talking about just the inner-city black kids, but rather everyone that lives in conditions that are less than comfortable, or at least do not provide a few key things like security, food, shelter, and the like.
How many people are left behind by our society and the fact that we do not care about those less better-off than ourselves? How many Einsteins, or Hemmingways, or Lincolns, or Platos, are left wasting their talent in games of mere survival instead of getting the education that they need in order to develop themselves to their full potential? I wonder sometimes if our technological prowess wouldn’t be vastly superior if we did care. I wonder if people wouldn’t be dying of cancer, if cars wouldn’t be driven on clean fuels, if computers wouldn’t be a thousand times faster today if we didn’t forget these poor kids whether they’re in downtown Detroit or in the middle of Appalachia or where ever and offer them an out or at least some sort of safe haven, or maybe even made it possible for their families to earn a decent living, whether or not they were educated themselves so as to not perpetuate the problem generation after generation after generation.
To see that a kid has ability, has potential that will more than likely never be realized – or at least has a better chance of being spilled with the blood of a drive-by shooting than being actualized – is disheartening to say the least. Especially when that potential is not even enough to garner enough credit on a test to pass, especially when that potential is forced aside by the cruel realities that too many are forced to survive in. How can a kid learn when their best friends’ death is first and foremost on their mind?
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