Friday, June 13, 2008

A Tough Good bye


I landed in Honolulu two weeks ago, and so far, things have been pleasant. Between workouts and trips to the beach, I scurry about the hospital and the nearby Army installation trying to fulfill all of my in processing requirements before the start of official business on July 1st. That's the day that I become an intern, and start soaking up all of the joy residency has to offer.
Before I left Maryland, I made sure that I shared one last afternoon with Jamal. His 14th Birthday fell about 4 days before I boarded the plane, so an outing for lunch and a movie seemed like the perfect way to say good-bye and Happy Birthday at the same time. I picked him up from the school office (along with his report card) and we headed out to Arundel Mills Mall to get something to eat before catching the Iron Man matinee. I had already seen the movie, but I enjoyed it enough to see it again with him.
During the more dialog heavy parts of the film, my mind drifted a little more than it usually would. I had been concerned for weeks about Jamal's future as he entered a very critical four year period of his adolescence. Tensions between him and grandma had been on the rise, his grades were plummeting, and he had started skipping class more and more frequently. I searched for replacement mentors among the men in the medical school's under three classes, my parents had considered adopting him, and I had even thought about adopting him myself for about three seconds. In the end, none of these were viable options, and I was just going to have to leave him in Baltimore with the hope that he will eventually find his way. What upset me most, as we sat there in the theatre, was that I was unable to reach him in the way that I had hoped. Despite tutoring sessions, visits to his school, talks with his grandmother, and many heart to heart conversations about the importance of academics, Jamal had another report card full of F's for his third quarter.
Amid the previous months of turmoil, I had been learning a tough reality about poverty, and it's effects on young people. I was starting to see that I could not make Jamal want anything badly enough to actually lift a finger. More and more, I understood that mentorship is not an adequate substitute for parenthood. It was never my job to fix everything, I was there to be a friend, to show him that there are options, and to let him decide. I just couldn't understand why he didn't seem to be choosing the road towards opportunity.
Jamal, like me, loves superhero stories. So it occurred to me that I may be able to draw a parallel between his life and that of Tony Stark in one last attempt to drive my point home. As we were getting in the car after the movie, I told him that sometimes life can be like that cave which imprisoned Tony stark. In the movie, Iron Man is born through Mr. Stark's desperation to escape his murderous captors before they can finish him off. In true Marvel fashion, he waxes about a dozen of them as he breaks free of the cave and rockets to safety in the Afghan desert. Just like Tony Stark, I told him, we can harness everything available to us, education, employment, and innate talents to design our own escape vehicles. He seemed to understand the analogy, but I know it takes more than that to make him buy into something.
Before leaving the mall, we stopped by the bookstore and picked out an art book. He likes the Japanese animation style, Manga. So I allowed him to select one of the many instruction books on the topic as my present to him. I made him promise that he would not lend it to anybody else or destroy it. He has consistently lost or destroyed gifts that I've given him in the past. I had been working for months to teach him more responsible stewardship, with little improvement (he kept losing things). But since it was his birthday, I wasn't going to deny him a gift for the sake of one last lesson.

On the way home, I pressed him a little closer about his grades:
"Do you think it is important to get good grades?"
He replied that he did.
"Then why are you not making it happen? I know you're smart enough."
He said that he didn't know.
"Actually, you DO know. But maybe you don't want to tell me."

At the distance of a few weeks, I realize that I probably made a mistake in how I approached him. During my years as an army officer, as a grade school tutor, and as a medical student, I was always taught to ask a little more. To assume that something else might be going on, but I failed to do that, and just moved forward with the assumption that Jamal was not motivated enough to study and do his work. And that may be part of it, but I'm disappointed that I failed to find out why.
I emphasized again that he has the power to remove himself from his current situation, and that it's up to him to create a better life for himself. Finally, I painted a picture of his future on the path that he has started. I told of my childhood acquaintances, cousins, and friends who ignored their academic development at his age and who now have low paying jobs or none at all, have fathered children, and have nothing to contribute to society at large. At this point he became quiet, and glared out the window. It was obvious that he was angry and didn't really want to talk anymore. I kind of wished that I hadn't pushed so hard, and I tried to alleviate the tension. I told him that I did not intend to make him angry, I just want him to take things seriously because four years from now may be too late.
As we stepped into his grandmother's kitchen for the last time, I kissed her good bye and handed Jamal a letter that I had written for him days before. It contained what I considered important, but simple advice for his teen years, my contact information, and a plea for him to call or email if he needs to talk, has a question, wants help, etc. As I said my final good bye and hugged him, I could tell that he was crying, but had turned away so that I wouldn't see. He said 'bye' and I slipped out into the building's hallway and down to the sidewalk.
So what now? What happens to Jamal? Where does he go from here? It's just him and his 74 year old grandmother whose health deteriorates by the week. His father is still addicted to heroine, and his mother died of AIDS complications three years ago. I've tried to be a model of black success, and show him that his color doesn't have to be an obstacle to progress and success. But as I examine the situation from this side of things, I realize that maybe color wasn't what he saw as the greatest obstacle. Poverty, Baltimore, it's pathetic school system, loneliness, frustration and stifling boredom are swallowing him alive. And without relief of some of these things, it's going to be hard for him to change course. I wish there was more that I could do, but my life is about to get very complicated, and he's 5,000 miles away. I will continue to check on him, and share what I know as he grows towards adulthood. Thanks for sharing the Big Brother experience with me.