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.

Some Progress

Whenever I travel to Baltimore, it is not uncommon for me to park some distance away from the hospital to save money, and to take a short cut through the seedier parts in the interest of time. When I do venture away from what many might consider 'safe zones,' I typically come across young Baltimoreans who cause me much frustration and disappointment.
Often, I will encounter a group of teenagers trying (or maybe not) to look as menacing as possible while flaunting their thuggish gait. As our distance closes, I overhear the latest rap single being recited (sometimes in unison, but not always). Upon examining their faces, there is usually one or more among with a mouthful of gaudy jewelry. I imagine that my reaction is similar to what a physical trainer experiences when he sees a severely obese person inhaling a double quarter pounder with bacon.
Time and time again I am overcome with a desire to snatch one of them up by the throat and scream into the recesses of their minds, I want to force them to understand the nature of the world in which we live. I want to tell them that if they're not aggressively educating themselves, they can expect a future that will probably be a lot bleaker than anything they're living through right now. I want to instill the futility and emptiness of their elaborate ghetto gestures, rituals, and values. I want them to know that they have no business fathering a child as long they cherish ignorance and disorder. But of course, I always stop myself short of anything more than a head nod, and an occasional 'what's up.' I'm typically greeted with the same, but periodically, the young ruffians may shoot me a look of contempt, or ignore me all together.
In the beginning, I looked to Big Brothers Big Sisters as an avenue to reach young menin a meaningful way. Knowledge alone is unlikely to inspire the needed change. I knew that I could only be effective if I built rapport with Jamal and let him know that he meant more to me than some kind of project or endeavor of goodwill. Otherwise, I might come off as some lunatic on the sidewalk spitting random advice.
So after more than a year of building our relationship, I have intentionally hardened my warnings to Jamal over the past month or so (no I haven't grabbed him by the throat). I have slowly progressed from gentle encouragement to harsh admonition about his future. After all, he is almost fourteen. He has only four years to establish effective study habits and discipline if he is to educate himself after high school.
With more time off I have been able to share a few weekday afternoons with him working on his math homework (his weakest subject) and we are actually getting somewhere. I have been rather surprised how quickly he progressed in a single week. It seems to me that all this time, he has probably just needed someone to sit down with him, encourage him, and let him know that they care about his performance. As usual, I will not know exactly how much he's improving until the end of the quarter. But the smile on his grandmother's face the last time I stopped in let's me know that something must be getting better.

Stare down

A stand off between Louis and Jamal during a recent game of tag. Jamal still hasn't managed to catch him yet.

The Birds and the Bees

Teenage and unwed pregnancy in Baltimore is a pretty serious problem among African Americans. During my time on a maternity ward in a city hospital, I noticed that almost every Black woman that I cared for was both unmarried and was currently, or had been pregnant as a teenager. An analysis of birthrates in 2003 demonstrated that Baltimore City is consistently among the highest in the nation with teen pregnancy comprising 18% of all births. I see this as one of the greatest problems to progress among impoverished black communities.

Generation after generation is having children before they have the means to offer that child a life better than their own. If I had unlimited power and influence, I would first make sure that every hospital in America was outfitted with Xbox 360 consoles in their bathrooms. Number two, I would revoke reproductive privilege in some of the hardest hit areas, and re-instate it on a case by case basis. However, I am but a mere mortal, so I'll have to settle for making sure that my little brother, Jamal, understands exactly how important it is that he keep his weapon holstered.

When he spilled the story of his first cheek kiss with girlfriend, Bonquelda (only in Baltimore), he mentioned that 'positive' peer pressure had a lot to do with it. And as innocent an encounter as that was, it wasn't hard for me to imagine him taking things further in the years to come as his hormones rage, and his buddies cheer him on.

Me: So what do you know about serious things between boys and girls? (Trying to be as vague as possible)

Jamal: I know all about the birds and the bees.

Me: Well do you know why it is so important that you not have sex?

He had a few of the answers I was looking for. Jamal is aware of diseases and the unwanted consequences of a pregnancy at this age. There's a girl in his middle school class who is with child. But still, he casually mentioned that "a condom can take care of all that." As true as that is, I reminded him of the possibility of failure or misuse, and the likelihood that someone his age would not use one everytime.

I am an ardent advocate of abstinence, but I am not naive enough to think that someone who has not been properly indoctrinated will actually adopt that as their primary birth control method. Jamal's family does not have a strong tradition of marriage, and I am among the few married adults that he knows.

My parents started working on me and my brothers very early. I can remember being sat down for lessons about lust, irresponsibility, and consequences of Biblical proportions at the age of seven. There was some overkill at times, but their technique has been proven effective:

"..according to data from the National Longitudinal Survey of Youth, 1997 cohort, even after taking account of characteristics such as race/ethnicity, mother’s education, and family structure. Teenagers whose parents have strong religious beliefs, who have higher levels of attendance at religious services, who participate in more family religious activities, and whose parents are affiliated with a religious denomination are less likely to have sex before age 18 than are teens without these characteristics."

I can see that the next generation of our family is reaping the benefits of this approach. My nephews and nieces are being born into stable homes where they will be very well provided for emotionally and financially.

Before putting the subject to rest, I told Jamal that abstinence is his best bet for many reasons. I tried to include his faith, and the potential heartache involved when young girls misinterpret a thrill-seeking boy's emotional investment. Some part of me doubts that any of that is really sticking. Puberty has begun, and reprogramming a young male with his eyes on the prize may be next to impossible.

Me: Just promise me that if you can't wait until marriage, you'll always use a condom

Jamal: okay

I'll be sure to revisit the issue.

"Report to the office immediately or you will be arrested"

That's what I heard being announced over the school intercom as I approached the Middle School's main office to pick up Jamal's report card Monday afternoon. Upon entering, I was treated to a snapshot of his school's administrative faculty in action. A uniformed Baltimore Police officer was reading off a list of children who had been spotted loitering in the hallway, while the secretary was announcing their names. The principal was beside them both barking her disapproval with their technique. Minutes later, the first of the delinquents started to appear at the doorway.

"Are they serious? Arrested?" I asked the lady helping me with the report card.
"Yes, they will be taken to Baltimore Juvenile detention until their parents or whoever picks them up."

I had visited the office once about a year ago and didn't notice so much chaos. I wonder what the deal was today.

As each of students arrived, the Principal began yelling at them individually, raising her voice even louder to drown out their objections. Occasionally, she would glare over her shoulder and give an unresponsive member of her faculty the same treatment. I was a little embarrassed for everyone involved. It was a bit reminiscent of an early basic training experience, but a lot meaner.

Anyway, after about 10 minutes, the office administrator produced Jamal's report card and printed it. "You know, he's one of the good ones. He just needs some help caring about his school work" she tells me.

I'll say. I was stunned when I saw that he is carrying a D minus average (61%) over the first two quarters and is failing 3 out of his 5 classes halfway through the current quarter. His worst grades were in math where he has received F's (55% and 57%) for the first two quarters. Grandma told me that he wasn't doing well, but I didn't expect it to be this bad. Only a year ago he had a 78% average for all of his classes. How is it that things have fallen so dramatically so quickly?

It sounds a bit presumptuous, but I have considered that my dwindling involvement with him this academic year may have played some role in it. Well, it was more than obvious that there is work to be done. I asked her if she would summon Jamal to the office before dismissal so that I could take him home with me. She very kindly cooperated and had him pulled from class.

When he strolled into the office, he didn't seem the least bit surprised to see me. He actually appeared a little bothered. I didn't understand why, but I probed him a bit once we got outside. After a little more prodding, and poking, I finally got him to tell me that he has a girlfriend he was expecting to meet after school. Can you believe that? And on top of that, he had given her a gift earlier in the day (by way of a mutual friend) and he had been looking forward to their walk home from school so that he could see her response. I offered to take him back, but he said he would just catch up with her later. As we drove to my house, he told me all about his young lady friend. He described the excitement of his first kiss (cheek), and how disappointed he was that he had not yet received a reciprocal peck. How cute. Eventually, we got into serious territory with the whole kissing and girlfriend issue. I'll tell you about that a bit later.

Rebellion

It's March! And the light at the end of the long, dark, and smelly sewage tunnel that has been my quest for the M.D. is brighter than ever. This month I am finishing my final course, Radiology. After that, I am free to do what I please until graduation in May. During this current month, my instructors have already made it clear that they only expect me to be present for about 2-3 hours daily. Never one to disappoint, I've managed to whittle that down to about and hour and a half on average . For the time being, I'm on easy street, and I have a lot of extra time on my hands. It's the perfect time to step things up a notch with Jamal since I'm departing shortly after graduation.

Since I have a bit more energy for the fight, I decided that once again, I would look into Jamal's grades. Around noon yesterday I gave Grandma a call to get permission to go to the middle school to pick up his report card. Before I could even get to that, she unleashed a half hour of grievances of her grandson's most recent behavior. He has been growing bolder, and more rebellious in recent months. As her health continues to fail, she is finding that he defies her more frequently on matters of school work, television, video games, and clandestine exploits with his buddies during school hours. She has also grown quite uncomfortable with his accelerated interest in females. As I listened, I tried my best to empathize with her, but I couldn't help but feel that some of it was probably a natural response to being young, under the influence of volatile hormones, and wanting to be one of the guys. I can't imagine what it must be like to live alone with a 72 year old disciplinarian when you're only 13.
Anyway, she's been through this before (she raised 10 children, and a few grandchildren) and feels as if she no longer has the energy to go through adolescence all over again with Jamal. She is open to moving him out of the house, and he has expressed a desire to leave, but all of the potential destinations would offer living conditions that are the same or worse than Grandma's. It's a difficult situation to say the least.

Before I left for the school, I told her that I would take Jamal home with me and spend some time with him. It won't fix everything, but it might allow him to let off some steam. Her narrative on Jamal's rebellion kind of reminded me of my 5 month-old beagle, Louis. He has a way of acting out if he doesn't burn off his extra energy each day. He's chewed into walls, humped legs and arms, bit, ran in circles, and whined incessantly as a response to neglect. The two met a few weeks ago and really hit it off, so I thought it might be mutually beneficial to get them together again.

I was fortunate to have a number of lively conversations with Jamal (for a change), and even had the chance to counsel him on some major issues during the course of our afternoon and evening. I'll cover some of that in other posts over the next week.

Losing Ground

I saw a disturbing article in the New York times last week (I blog in slow motion), and felt compelled to bring it to the attention of anyone who might care. It comments on the findings of the Brookings institute's research regarding economic mobility in black and white families. Some of the most jarring statistics were those which demonstrated a downward trend among black families' economic success over the last generation.

"..almost half (45 percent) of black children whose parents were solidly middle class end up falling to the bottom of the income distribution, compared to only 16 percent of white children. Achieving middle-income status does not appear to protect black children from future economic adversity the same way it protects white children."

I have always taken a strong stance on black under achievement, some may even say that I am too harsh. But I find it difficult to interpret these statistics in a manner which does not implicate black parents in their own children's' failure. If we know that racism is a less potent inhibitor of academic and economic progress today than it was in the past, and the older generation is capable of attaining middle class status. Then it would only make sense that each generation should be doing better than the previous one. Black children losing academic and economic ground gained by their parents is an indication that parents are not instilling the discipline and work ethic that they relied on to achieve their own success. The Brookings Institute demonstrates that the major difference between white and black middle class families of equal income are lower black male incomes, and the high rate of single parenthood in the black family. In other words, the black family is unraveling. And despite middle class incomes in some families, money alone is not enough to ensure that children will remain on the straight and narrow. I've made it known in the past, that I don't believe that we as a people will ever reverse this negative trend, and I see this study as strong support of my beliefs. If a sizable portion of the legitimately successful among us are not passing it along to their children, then what does the future hold? I am confident that there will continue to be individual black children from all classes and family structures who will succeed (both with and without the help of mentors), but as a whole, I'm afraid that the downward spiral will claim far more than it allows to escape. Of course, I will never see this as a reason to stop reaching out to children in need.

Eighteen Months Later

The month of December was hectic, mostly because it was spent finishing out the last of my strenuous medical school rotations. Around the middle of the month, the Army posted the assignments for all of their medical students, and granted me the best birthday present I've ever received. I'm headed back to Hawaii for five years of Orthopedic Surgery training! It was my number one choice for location and specialty. As exciting as this is, it's sad that it will reduce my mentoring relationship with Jamal to occasional phone calls, and perhaps an annual visit. Of course, with the demands of residency and the possibility of children of my own just around the corner, it's likely that even if I spent the next few years in Baltimore, we would be seeing a lot less of each other.
Anyway, during the Christmas holiday, we did spend some time together. We went to the local ice rink one afternoon, and I stopped by his house another afternoon to hang out for a bit. Despite not skating since we went almost a year ago, he picked it right back up and was tearing around the track for the last hour of our session. During the outing, we inevitably came to the topic of his grades. The quarter ended in November, but there's still no report card for me to read. It's the same old game. Baltimore schools don't give report cards to the students, so it's up to Grandma to call and request it. I've been through this before. Last year only two report cards ever made it home, and I carried one of those directly from the school myself. Jamal tried to convince me that I shouldn't worry about it because he doesn't think that he made our goal of 85% in every class. When I ask why, he just tells me "I don't know."
I could get frustrated, but I've decided that it's a waste of energy. Jamal is probably never going to be motivated to do more than whatever gets him by in the classroom. I'm going to have to accept that. He is however, really picking up the pace on his development as an artist. He continues to do his lessons from The Art Institutes each month, and I've heard good things about his progress from the staff there. I ran into a few who were familiar with his work when I enrolled myself in the course last month. So I'll continue to push him in that direction.
As we've spent time together over the last year and a half, I've often wondered when (if ever) would be the right time to correct some of his spoken grammar. He tends to speak with the poverty-laced dialect that is typical of Baltimore's children and adults. About six months ago, I decided to give it a try. After all, if he's going to grow up to go to college or art school, and work in the professional world, he's going to have to get in the habit of speaking that language. What I found is when I told him that "there ain't no" should be phrased as "there aren't any" he actually counter-corrected me. He was convinced that it was me who had it backwards. After a few more attempts spread across weeks to months with similar responses or total silence (indicating a degree of frustration) I've pretty much abandoned all grammar correction. What sense does it really make for me to step in a few times a month, and try to instill speech that is more appropriate for mainstream America, but is completely foreign to him? As I've heard in the past, our speech reflects the way we're spoken to. Jamal's grandmother, his closest family member, speaks to him with the dialect of a southern sharecropper with a sixth grade education. Combine that with the inner city Baltimore speech of his peers, and you can see that there are no obvious solutions to adjust his speech. So what can you really do? Sure, it's a part of who he is, but I can't help but think of how many opportunities he may miss in the future because he is never taken seriously.

You see what you did wrong?

As I've mentioned before, the mentoring relationship that I share with my 'little' Jamal, has a funny way of teaching me things sometimes. About 4 months ago, he completed a mail in art test from the Art Instruction Schools. Maybe you've seen one of their commercials on television if you found yourself with nothing to do in the middle of a weekday afternoon. I had seen one or two of the commericals over the years, but never paid much attention to them. When Jamal showed me his completed mail in test, I was deeply impressed with his performance, but somewhat skeptical that anything useful would come of it. About a month later, a representative from the Art Instruction Schools came to his home to speak with Grandma about enrolling him in their course. When he told me that it costs about $100 a month, I was pretty sure that the young man and his grandmother had been roped into some kind of scheme. It wasn't until I saw him two weeks ago to hang out that I realized how inaccurate my assumptions were. Every few weeks they send him an instruction booklet that walks him through the steps of a particular technique or series of topics and includes a sheet for him to mail in a submission for evaluation. I was very impressed with the quality of the booklet and the credentials of the instructors cited. And what's even better, is that I can see how much Jamal has already improved.
During our last outing, we went to the Medical School library (it has a lot of quiet rooms) and watched a Batman the Animated Series DVD to search for the perfect scene or character to draw. He has told me before that he sometimes feels intimidated by me when we draw together because my picture tends to turn out looking more like the model we're using. I often remind him that I'm more than twice his age, and that I expect him to be a lot better than me 15 years from now. On this particular session, he did something he hadn't yet done. About 1o minutes into our project, he stopped working on his picture, peered over at my sketch pad, and asked "You see what you did wrong with her face?" I was actually getting a little frustrated with my picture when he brought it up, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that he had properly identified the problem. I had formed the chin on my villainess (word?) incorrectly, and it was in turn throwing off the relationships between all of her facial features. I made the correction, and the sketch ended up a lot better because of it.
I have been a casual artist since I was about 7 years old. My abilities continue to grow with age, but I have been buying books and materials over the past year and a half in an effort to accelerate my growth a bit. After flipping through Jamal's Art Instruction School Books, and observing his progress, I've decided to send off for that mail in art test. I'm not sure I want to drop $100 a month, but they do have a scholarship program, so maybe I can get a discount.

"I don't know." "Nothing."

I realize that it's only fair to reveal that being a Big Brother isn't all smiles and high-fives. Sometimes hanging out with the kid can get a little annoying. For instance, Jamal has a habit of responding to questions about his day, school, or just about anything that I may ask him about with "I don't know" or "nothing." He has at times taken this to ridiculous extremes answering "I don't know" repeatedly if I ask him a series of questions which he very likely knows the answer to. I think of it as a game of "who's the dummy?" Me, for thinking that he really doesn't know the answer, or him for not knowing what happened on September 11th, 2001 (one of the questions I asked to begin a conversation about current events).
Last Saturday I made plans to spend my only day off in a span of eleven to take Jamal to out a 3-D movie at the Air and Space museum in D.C. For most of the trip down to the Metro Station, Jamal was very content to sit quietly and study the ridges on the cap of his soda bottle. When I tried to interrupt him with a question about school or even his leisure time around the house, he would respond with "nothing" or "I don't know." He has done this regularly since we met, but somehow I thought of it as shyness that would subside as our friendship grew. After about 10 minutes of this I was pretty irritated, but I did my best to hide it with a chuckle, and change of subject. Realizing that the only topic that would get more than a two or three word response out of him was video games, I broke down and asked him about his latest conquests. He was more than happy to tell me all about the best weapon to use against robot invaders and over sized monsters. Any attempts to change the subject were met with more of the same dull responses. You know, I wasn't exactly a master of conversation at the age of 13, but I did at least make an attempt to speak to an adult if he/she was showing some interest in my wellbeing. Except with my parents. But I saw them every day, so I feel like that's a little different.
Once we were at the metro station, I did succeed in getting Jamal to calculate the fare that we needed to pay to get to the Smithsonian stop on the Metro and back. He made a small miscalculation, but got the correct answer with a little coaching. The movie was very well narrated and filmed, and more than lived up to my expectations. Jamal's favorite part was a scene where rocks were being shot towards the audience during a rocket launch. The action played in full 3-D with loud stereo effects. The realism was impressive. He denies screaming like a frightened girl scout, but I have first hand knowledge to the contrary.
After the movie, we looked around the museum a little and headed out. Before getting back on the train, I thought it would be nice to look at something new. I took him by the Freer Art Gallery , to take in some cultural pieces from Asia. As we walked around we both noticed how empty the place was compared to the other museums and attractions we had been past. Within 5 minutes we realized why. It was the probably the most boring collection of displays that I could imagine being in one place. A PBS documentary on box factories would have been more exciting. We bounced. On our way back into the metro station, he decided to slip through the gate behind another patron so that he wouldn't have to use his metro card. He was so proud of himself when he told me about it. Of course, I realized that we were now going to encounter an error at our destination since it would appear as if he had teleported himself from Washington back to our station of origin. Once again, I was a little bothered, but I didn't say much other than "Don't do that again" in the most neutral tone that I could muster, and explained that not using your card to get through the gate constitutes theft. As expected, when we arrived at our destination the gate flashed a message "Please see the attendant." To set things straight quickly, I just moved him through with me and destroyed his card so that we wouldn't be stealing. All in all it was a good day, and I still have much love for the young man. But I 'm learning that despite wanting to do a good thing, I'm not immune to being irritated by his behavior at times. Maybe my expectations are too high. After all, I have established a relationship that makes me more of a buddy than an adult. Perhaps it's a good thing that he's relaxed enough to get on my nerves.

Back to School

School began last week for Jamal, and I gave him a call before he started to discuss the new school year.

"So what are your goals for this year?"

"To pass."

I almost hit the ceiling when he replied. After all, we had been through this too many times for him to still think that just passing is actually a respectable goal. I chuckled a bit, hesitated, and then repeated myself. Maybe he just didn't understand the question. It wasn't until he quickly said that his goal was "to get nineties in all of my classes" that I realized he was actually joking with me. Good, so he has heard me. Of course, he immediately asked about what kind of loot I was going to bless him with for such a great achievement. Yeah, I don't like it either, but I have to get him moving somehow. I told him to give me some ideas, and that DVDs and video games are off limits. For now he has settled on a remote controlled airplane. I think he was really impressed by the models he saw flying around during the afternoon that he spent with my father. I made sure that he understood that a lot of those planes were beyond my budget for the prize. On my trip back from Hawaii, I was briefly tempted by the flimsy plastic R/C airplanes offered in this month's SkyMall catalog, but I'm probably going to have to do better than that if Jamal actually rises to the occasion.

Before we ended, I pressed him for some details on his plan for the quarter.

"How are you going to get these great grades all of the sudden?"

A good response would take considerable insight into what has been going wrong, as well as an understanding of how excellent students get it done, so I was very curious as to what exactly he would have to say.

"I'm going to do my homework and pay attention in class"

Pretty basic stuff, but I guess it can make a big difference if you haven't tried it yet. I'll see what's up when the progress reports come out in 5 weeks.

A Young Mind Takes Flight

The Department of Defense was kind enough to sponsor me on an all expense paid trip to Honolulu for the month of August. Of course, I had to commit to long days of surgery and endless clinic hours in the Army Hospital there in exchange. They were kind enought to give me the weekends off to explore the island and and partake of all its recreational wonders. While I'm spending the weekends surfing, scuba diving, and hiking through wilderness, my father volunteered to pick up some of the slack with Jamal. A licensed pilot, and fanatical flight buff, he recently made another trip to the friendly skies above Prince George's County with Jamal in tow. His account of the weekend is below.

"...When I first mentioned it to him almost a year ago, he rejected the trip out of hand, showing no interest in flying around the county is a small aircraft, a Cessna 172 to be exact. But after we spent some time together, he actually seemed to warm up to the idea. We set the date, I reserved an aircraft at Freeway Airport for Saturday morning and it was a go.

All week, Jamal kept track of what the weather forecast. In fact, one day he called and asked me if we were going to fly if there was a thunderstorm. I assured him that if the weather was not nearly perfect – if we couldn’t see at least three miles in front of us, little wind, high clouds – that we probably would not go flying.

Then he asked an interesting question: If we don’t go flying Saturday morning, are you going to take me straight back home? At that point I realized that he actually enjoyed being around me. It was almost as if I had another son – except of course for the fact that he actually enjoyed being around me.

The weather was right on the edge Saturday morning. There was a broken layer of clouds at 1400 feet, and that meant we would not be taking a trip over the bay to have breakfast. Instead, we flew out to the practice area and fiddled around a little for about twenty minutes.

When we first took off, he was a little uncomfortable. And every time the plane shook, he was obviously startled. We got to listen to Air Traffic Control talk to a couple of heavies on approach to Baltimore Washington International, to Trooper 2 – a Maryland Highway Patrol Helicopter, and various general aviation aircraft like the one we were flying. He even got to listen to me as I participated in the air traffic exchanges. Interestingly, he said I sounded like a robot when I was talking to them.

We finished flying and had breakfast at one of the newer diners in the area. On the way back to the house – he had almost convinced me to return to the house and play video games – I stopped off at a hobby shop and looked around a bit.

That was when I saw the jet-propelled scale model of an F-4 Phantom. Jamal asked if the model could go as fast as the airplane we flew that morning. I arrogantly said “No.” After all, we were flying a real plane and our top speed was about 120 knots. It turned out that the radio controlled model had a top speed of 200 knots, real knots not scale ones.

In a case of pure serendipity, the worker-bee told us about the radio control club that flew out of PG County. I decided to take him (part of that exposure thing) and see what they were doing there.

As we pulled up to the field, I heard the unmistakable sound of a jet engine – a small jet engine – but a jet engine none the less. One of the enthusiasts was flying an RC Model that had a real jet engine in it.

It turns out the guy had spent over $5400 building the aircraft. We watched several other people fly their planes and once the jet fellow flew a second time, we left for home.

While we were driving from place to place, Jamal asked me to tell him the difference between a blimp and a hot air balloon. At that point I felt my fatherly impulses kicking in. As a result, when we finally got back to the house, I had him research the two (I also threw in the Zeppelin for good measure). An hour and a half later, with very little coaching from me, he explained the difference between a blimp, a hot air balloon, and a Zeppelin.

I think I made a little bit of progress with him. We didn’t play video games the entire time he was at my house. He had to stretch his brain, and he did something he had never done before (he did actually fly the plane for a moment). All in all, I think it was a good day. And more importantly, I think Jamal enjoyed himself and learned a lot about what it takes to succeed in life and perhaps even what the possibilities are for him. We should be seeing each other again in about a month."

I gave Jamal a call some days after the flight and he told me that he really enjoyed it. Despite being a little scared, he wants to go back up sometime soon.

Little Man

My little brother, Jamal, truly embodies his title. He's short. Very short, to the point that you want to give him a lolly pop and pat him on the head at first glance. It's only when you hear him speak that you believe that he's actually 13. Given his troubled infancy, and his diet of McDonald's 4-6 times a week, I became a little concerned that he might have some kind of chronic disease or nutrient deficiency retarding his growth. I asked him if he was on any medications or if he had seen the doctor recently, and he replied that he was perfectly healthy and had been to a doctor within the last year. Apparently, his grandmother was concerned about the same thing and had taken him in to get measured.

While studying for this exam that I'm taking tomorrow, I did run across a little tidbit on growth and development that inspired me to go ahead and measure Jamal myself when I stopped through Baltimore a few days ago. According to the CDC Growth chart, he's in the 25th percentile for height for his age (translated: he's shorter than 75% of boys his age). That fact alone does not indicate that there's actually anything wrong with him. That combined with the fact that his sister had a huge growth spurt in her mid teens convinced me that he's probably alright. Grandma says he has another appointment soon, turns out he's seen in the same clinic that I was working in a few weeks ago. Before I left, I apologized for bringing the whole thing up (now that I knew he was relatively normal), I was afraid that I might have embarrassed him. But he just shrugged and asked when I was coming by next. It seems as if even after living through a year of middle school (cesspool of adolescent cruelty), he is the least bothered by his stature. Good for him.

One Year Later

Last week marked the one year anniversary of my first meeting with Jamal and the beginning of our friendship. I'd love to say that he's grown 6 inches, earned straight A's, and started a successful non-profit under my tutelage, but that would be a slight exaggeration. Jamal is a good kid. He was quite bright and free of all signs of thuggishness before I met him, so I haven't exactly been fighting a battle to save him from the streets of Baltimore. His grandmother has established a solid moral compass in the child, but has left much work for me and others to do in getting him to realize his true potential and to sharpen his talents. That battle is far from over and will be ongoing into the next school year. There was a point when I had considered picking up a new 'little' and keeping loose contact with Jamal. But I suspect that I would probably just end up doing a marginal job with both, so I decided to focus on Jamal for as many years as our lives permit.

I'm pleased to have discovered a number of black authored "let's-stop-the-foolishness" blogs over the past year. They are great for generating and maintaining much needed discourse on the errant path that mainstream black culture seems to be taking as of late. Some of my favorites are listed to the right under the blogroll. But sometimes, I feel as if we have used these forums to echo back to one another our shared sentiments about the most offensive and destructive trends working their way through our community while the people who are a part of the problem skip over to the BET or The SOURCE web page. I started Reaching Young Minds so that I could push a few more of us to take things a step further, and get the message where it can make the most difference.. the children living under difficult circumstances in "high risk" neighborhoods. After all, they are the ones destined to become tomorrow's babies' daddies and criminals if something doesn't change.

It's easy to think that you don't have enough time to mentor a child, but after mentoring through my third year of medical school (huge time commitment), while planning a wedding, and shopping for and moving into a new home, I'd have to say that most people probably have time for it if they are willing to make the time. As long as you can stand being around someone else's child for more than an hour at a time, and you have an honest desire to make a difference, Big Brother Big Sister or a similar program is a great place to start.

Summer Time

I am currently mid way through the first summer that I have spent exclusively in my hometown in almost 12 years. Although most of the time has been spent studying, and staring out the window when I should be studying, it has brought back a lot of good memories of summers past. We lived in a neighborhood full of children and friendly neighbors. So even when there was nothing special to do, there was always something to do. Exploration in the deep woods, riding bikes to forbidden locales, and playing outside until it was dark. Sadly, my 'little' isn't having that kind of summer.
I started to notice that he was inside everytime I called, but I was hesitant to believe that was the case all day everyday until I dropped in yesterday to see him. We spent most of the time talking about his latest pieces of art. I let him borrow a cartoon drawing book, and he's been hard at work trying to master some of the techniques. He asked me questions about different approaches to the cartoon human, and I showed him how to deal with hands and torsos, and clarified what the book was showing. All throughout this time I started asking about his daily activities for the past month. It turns out he IS actually staying in the house alone all day almost every day while his grandmother lays on the bed upstairs trying to stay cool. It's pretty sad, I had actually looked into some day programs before the summer started so we could prevent this sort of thing from happening. Obviously, I didn't find anything.

"So where are all of the other kids?"
They all moved away.

"How about your bike?"
It's broken.

"What about your cousins that I met that one time?"
They live too far away.

Quite sad, but since I'm very much in the books every day, living almost 40 minutes away, there's not a lot that I can do to improve his day to day right now. Makes me that much more pleased that I sprung him from Grandma's on the 4th of July a few weeks ago. We started the day with Go Karts at the local track, stopped by the cook out at my parent's house, and ended the day with a late showing of TRANSFORMERS. A great movie I must say. There's nothing quite as cool as seeing your old animated heroes on the big screen in live action. I was blown away by the fact that they used the same voice actor for Optimus Prime that they used 20 years ago on the cartoon. Jamal doesn't know much about the old show, but he really liked the movie and hung the poster up in his room.
I should have a week long break from all responsibility starting two weekends from now. That is, if I can get ready for this test in time. If I do, it will give me the chance to spend a lot of time with Jamal and possibly make this summer a little more memorable for him.

I'm Back

It's been a while, but I have an excuse this time, really. From the end of April until last week I had been living through a whirlwind of moving, getting part of the house renovated, getting married, and taking final exams to wrap up my third year. Quite hectic I have to say, but through it all I actually managed to keep up with Jamal from week to week.
The wedding was held in NY, near my Wife's hometown and on the campus of my undergraduate alma mater. I had a great time at the wedding, and as promised, my father picked Jamal up from Baltimore and kept him company during the event weekend and through the ceremony and reception. It was good to see him mingling with my friends and family, and generally having a good time. As weddings go, I didn't get to spend too much time with him individually, but I did follow up with him a week later. He approved of the festivities and said that he had enjoyed himself.
School ended about two weeks ago, and report cards were mailed home in the middle of last week. On a good note, he called me the day he received his report card to let me know how he did. Sadly, he told me that he passed as if he was unsure whether or not he was going to pull it out. Unfortunately, Jamal's grades have grown progressively worse with each passing quarter this year. That is particularly frustrating to me since we both sat down in December and set a goal of improving his academic performance.
Almost two months ago, I gave him a firm talking to about his progress report (all C's and D's), telling him that I knew he could do better, and trying to explain how important good grades are to his future. He acted as if he understood (and had even heard it before), but continued to ignore assignments, and play video games instead of studying until the grading period ended.
As I look back on my first year of mentorship, I would like to say that it was successful, but since my only truly objective measurement of success (grades) did not demonstrate this, it's hard to walk away with that impression. I realize that it's quite possible that the impact of my presence in his life may not be felt for many years. And I'm learning that instant gratification cannot be the nature of my motivation when it comes to our "therapeutic relationship." I must learn to deal with the fact that progress will be slow and at times invisible.
I've come to believe that raising a child to do well in school is part inspiration and part discipline. I think that how much of each is needed depends on the child. At this point, it's clear to me that Jamal needs a lot more discipline, which is something that I cannot (and will not) provide given my role as a Big Brother. Unfortunately, when it comes to school, his grandmother has demonstrated time and again that she either does not know how or simply will not give him the structure that he needs. So I feel as if I'm at a bit of an impasse with regards to getting him to achieve. At this point, I'm left to look forward to another year, and continue to work on developing his artistic talents, affirming his self worth, and helping him see beyond the stereotypes that surround him on a daily basis.

Trying to Keep up

In preparation for my quickly approaching marriage, I moved back to the suburban city that I grew up in. This, of course, puts Jamal and I at a huge disadvantage as far as spending time is concerned. Instead of running or driving a mile to his house, I will have to drive 40 minutes just to get there (if traffic is light). There's been so much chaos surrounding the move and the wedding preparations that I haven't seen him in about three weeks. He calls me weekly to ask if we can go somewhere and I feel terrible when I have to give him the same answer. I can tell that he's extremely bored, and I have no doubts that he's probably already called everyone on his grandmother's pre-approved visitation list before he gets to me each week. But it's still encouraging to know that he'll come to me for that sort of thing.
Since I can't visit, I've just settled for phone conversations, discussing school, his grandmother, cartoons, and inevitably, video games (it's the only topic that seems to get him interested on the phone). As of right now, I plan to bring him to the wedding. My father volunteered to transport and keep track of him while I take care of the final details and recite my vows. Hopefully, our wedding will be something that he remembers for a long time, and he will grow towards seeing marriage as positive and a normal thing to do.

Baltimore Sun

Last Sunday felt like an afternoon out of my own childhood. It was the warmest it's been in Baltimore this year, and I thought it would be a great day for Jamal and I to get together. When I called over to his grandmother's house, he told me that he was doing... that's right.. "nothing." Well I couldn't imagine why any able-bodied child should be inside the house on a day like that so we made plans for me to drop by.
Instead of driving, I decided to run to his house (it's only a mile and a half) so that I could squeeze some exercise out of afternoon as well. On the way over, I realized that I had seen very little of his neighborhood up to this point since we spent most of our afternoons going out. This gave me a great idea for how we could spend the afternoon. Once I arrived, we set off for his favorite places to go. We zig-zagged through about 5 blocks, running most of the way between each play area that he frequents. Most of them were just your standard jungle gym, basketball court, and swing set arrangements. We played on, and climbed over everything we could find, and raced each other up and down a few side walks (I had to give him a few meters head start). I even managed to get him to do push-ups with me. In a few places, he showed me his favorite daredevil stunts. I had to stop him in mid-demonstration of his most dangerous one because I was having visions of me carrying his limp body back to his Grandmother and explaining why I let him break his neck right in front of me. I was very impressed and pleasantly surprised by my little brother's fitness level, agility, and foot speed. Particularly since he seems to enjoy giving me the impression that he's very inactive and lazy.
After ripping and running, we returned to Grandma's house to get a drink. As of late, I've become very anti-video gaming with my little brother, hoping that I can direct his interests towards more productive pass times. But since we did spend the day outdoors, I thought I could make a small concession before I took off for home. I probably shouldn't have bothered though, because it was just more of the same embarrassment with me getting blasted game after game of Smash Brothers while he laughed. As I was heading out, he handed me one of two walkie-talkies that he was recently given by his father. Apparently, Dad shows up rather sporadically, bearing gifts for the young man. He wanted me to take it with me so that we could talk whenever we want, without having to use the telephones. It didn't look like it had a range of more than 1 mile, but on the run back to my apartment, I radioed back to him each block so we could determine it's true range. Turns out they're good for about 8 blocks. Not too bad, but it looks like we're still going to have to use the telephone.

Young Men in Baltimore Stepping Up

Teaching Teenagers to Live Strong- Baltimore Sun


I ran across this article the other day in the Baltimore Sun and thought I would share it with those who had not. This is another good example of insightful adults using the peer relationship to build cohesion and positive work ethic rather than oppose it. Kudos to these young men and their mentors.

Small Lessons

Most days whenever I call my little brother and ask him what he's doing, he tells me "nothing." By that, I thought he meant nothing in particular. But Sunday afternoon I saw that he really means ABSOLUTELY nothing. When I scooped little man up, he was playing around with an almost empty bottle of Krazy glue. He told me that he had been gluing his fingers together and then separating them for the past day or so, and that he had purchased the bottle for that sole purpose. Fascinating. Well at least he's not sniffing it I thought to myself. I didn't see a need to intervene until I noticed that he was chewing the residue off of his fingers. "Alright, take your fingers our of your mouth."

Whoa, where did that come from?

Frightened by how much I sounded like my father, I realized that I would have to approach this delicately. As a big brother, it's my responsibility to promote good decision making without coming off as a surrogate parent, or too bossy. Once we made it to my apartment, I set him up with some soap and a sink full of water, and asked him to scrub the glue off. The whole ordeal wasn't really that big of a deal, but given that he "likes the taste of it" and that glue fumes are damaging teenage brains all over America, I thought that I should make it clear that recreational exposure to Krazy glue is a bad idea.






We started the afternoon watching all of the action scenes from 2003's THE HULK. In the interest of staying awake, we skipped all of the dialogue and just soaked up the car tossing, tank smashing action. Afterwards, he asked for some help drawing more realistic superhero figures and faces. An avid fan of comic book art myself, I used one of my books to walk him through some step by step directions. Jamal is a very good cartoon artist, but he's finding it difficult to take the human form to the next level (as most people do at that age).
Throughout the course of our impromptu lesson he grew more frustrated with his drawing and wanted to quit and do something else. I insisted that he finish his picture, and helped him make adjustments until he was more satisfied with it. I felt that it was important for me to push him a little bit, and show him the value of sticking it out. Once again, I tried my best to do this without irritating the young man or being too authoritative. In the end, he seemed pleased with his drawing, and went home with copies of some of the book's pages so that he could practice on his own.
I know that Jamal has potential for great things artistically and academically. Although I cannot instill the discipline he'll need to maximize his abilities, I hope that I have inspired him and taught him some of the things that he will need along the way.