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.

Keep it Moving

Jamal and I have been maintaining for the past few weeks mostly in the form of phone calls with the occaisional drop in. We even managed to squeeze in a trip to the bowling alley a couple of weeks back when there was a snow day that coincided with one of my days off.
Always eager to assess his progress, I've been pressuring his grandmother to get his second quarter report card which has been available for 8 weeks at this point. I could go up to the school and get it myself once again, but I feel like it's really not my job at this point. I need to help her become more involved in his academic development. She seems to knows that generally, it's a good thing to get good grades, but has showed little understanding of how important it is to monitor the grades on his report card instead of random graded papers that trickle into the house (which she says are improving lately). Is it harsh to think that she's woefully negligent for not having mastered the art of holding a child accountable for schoolwork after 8+ children and a few grandchildren? I don't think so. But I suppose if she had been successful with this thus far, Jamal may not have ever come to my attention.
Anyway, my 3 month surgery rotation ends this week, so there should be an opportunity for Jamal and I to share another outing. I'd like to get him out and moving since he uses his asthma as an excuse for him to do no physical activity whatsoever. Of course, he has no idea where his inhaler is, and has never experienced an emergency so I'm skeptical. But lucky for him, the emergency room just happens to be right next to the campus gym.

Positive Peer Pressure

Black Parents Seek to Raise Ambitions - Washington Post


I was excited to read about this group of parents from Virginia a few days ago. They have taken aim at the "crabs in a bucket" mentality that has been blamed as a major player in the black achievement gap. Not surprisingly, they have seen the attitudes and grades of their children improve as a result. I experienced a similar dynamic growing up as I followed the same set of motivated peers from elementary school to high school. I believe that the encouragement and competition that we shared among one another was part of what kept us from buying into alot of the anti-academic attitudes that were alarmingly popular among our fellow students. That and the threat of violence from our parents.

Six Months Later

Last week marked six months since Jamal and I first met. In celebration, our case manager from Big Brother Big Sister bombarded me with voicemail and email messages requesting that I give her my thoughts and complete a survey on the arrangement up to this point.
The case manager’s harassment turned out to be a good thing since it reminded me that we hadn’t hung out for some weeks. When given a choice between another museum and ice skating, Jamal decided on the ice rink. He found it awkward at first and asked me for a pointer every few laps as we coasted around the rink. Usually, he would shoot off half way through my explanation, eager to put it into practice. By the end of our two hour session he had become pretty difficult to catch when we had a one lap race. That was partly due to his tendency to intentionally weave around small children so that I would have to slow down or risk body checking one of them into the glass. We both enjoyed the afternoon, and he actually said that it was more fun than roller skating, which he does somewhat frequently.
As I look back on the past six months, my objectives for the mentorship, and Jamal’s development, I am pleased. I signed up for the program with the hope that I would get the chance to guide a young, black, pre-adolescent down a path that leads to a brighter future. And for the most part, I believe that Jamal is moving in that direction.
Socially, his grandmother’s rigid limitations have prevented him from falling into peer groups likely to encourage violent or destructive behaviors. So for the time being, I believe that he is more than capable of dealing with the negative peer pressure that is typical of his age group.
Academically, he seems to be trying harder, but I won’t have an objective measure of improvement until his 3rd quarter grades are released. He does seem responsive to my encouragement. He keeps me updated on what assignments he’s working on and as we were driving back from the ice rink, he brought up the topic of our goal of a 90% average for the coming quarter without prompting. It’s quite possible that it had more to do with him specifying which accessories I should include with the Gamecube console that I set as his incentive, than the grades themselves. But even if that is the case, he knows the goal and has made it clear that he intends to achieve it.
Most importantly, our relationship has become a genuine friendship. My fiancée claims that I wish I could be 11 for the rest of my life, which would make a 12 year old friend ideal. But the ability to use our friendship to influence Jamal’s perspective and decisions is perhaps its greatest benefit.

Progress Report

The Friday before Christmas I visited Jamal's school and had an impromptu conference with one of his teachers. Initially, I had only intended to pick up his first quarter report card which had been available for almost 6 weeks at this point. His Grandmother insisted that she was still unable to get it because of her physical limitations.
As I have said before, I am trying to motivate Jamal to achieve academically. And since he never gives me much more than "school is aiight" I needed his report card to assess his progress. Baltimore Schools have abadoned the "A,B,C" system for percentiles. Which makes GPAs easier to understand, and really makes more sense overall. Jamal's average for the first quarter was a 76.83. Most grades were 75 or 80, but he did have one, Language Arts, which was a 70%. I decided to go in and speak with that teacher so that I could determine what the problem was. Mr. B. told me that Jamal is in his advanced class, and one of the smartest students in class, but he is determined to do the minimum to get by. He doesn't do all of his homework and doesn't pay attention in class. Other commments on the report card indicated that he displayed the same attitude elsewhere. "Conduct limits learning" and "Disruptive and/or inattentive" described his behavior in two other classes.
Armed with this new information, I went to have a serious discussion with his Grandmother and explain what the grades meant. This was the first conversation that I had with her outside of Jamal's presence, and it revealed much more of his family circumstances, as well as his Grandmother's general approach to child rearing.
Most startling, was the fact that she stopped school in the 6th grade, raised 10 children, 4 of which are dead (AIDS, Alcoholism, or accidents) and 1-2 who are in prison. Two more of her children are living with AIDS or Alcoholism. Halfway through our conversation, she spoke in depth about how tightly she controls Jamal's exposure to the outside world. Minimal phone calls from friends, limited time outside the house. Then she turned around complained about how much he plays video games and lies to her about finishing his homework so that he can play more. She had absolutely no idea how he was performing in school other than "he's passing all of his classes." As important as I think it is to encourage achievement at his age, I realize that she is probably trying her best to prevent him from making the same mistakes as her children, and has completely neglected his academic development in the process.
Before I left, I offered Grandma some unsolicited advice. "Remove the television from his room, don't allow him to play video games or watch TV during the week, and demand his homework before he does anything else at night." She agreed that these were good ideas, but was hesitant to implement them just yet.
Three nights ago, Jamal and I got together to do a few drawings. He became frustrated with his artwork, and practically begged to play some internet games while I was still working on mine. It's disappointing to see a child his age commit so much of his energy to mindless video games and television, but I can empathize. If the child is not encouraged to pursue other activities, what else would you expect?
Regardless, I spoke with Jamal what I had learned during my visit to the school, and told him that I want him to shoot for 86% for 3rd quarter (2nd quarter is almost over). Before I dropped him off, I asked him if he understood why he should be working hard for his grades. "So I can get a good job" he replied. Good answer, now the challenge is to get him to behave as if he believes it.

Another Look at the Black Family

The article below was the latest addition to the Washington Post series "Being a Black Man." It covers most of the points that I made in my discussion about the demise of the American Black family a few months back, but follows a real life father to illustrate them. Although the author is careful to reserve judgement, I like that he raises the question of what a father can provide for a child when he has done little to educate himself, acquire meaningful employment, or establish a stable household.


The Washington Post- Dad, Redefined

An Idle Mind

My free time over the past weeks has been limited by my study and hospital schedule, and mostly dominated by what I have come to call ‘wedding planning ambushes’ set by my fiancée. Jamal and I have had more phone conversations than usual, a few failed attempts to link up, and some drop-ins here and there. Last Friday we finally caught a break, and I spent the evening watching a movie and slugging it out in our favorite Nintendo game.
As much as I enjoy video entertainment, I’ve slowly discovered over the past month that it is generally the extent of Jamal’s activities if he’s not in school. His grandmother is trying hard to provide for him, but she is falling very short of stimulating the young man’s mind. I believe this is at least partially due to the limitations that her health has imposed on her. Every time that I see her she is either laying on her bed watching television, or sitting downstairs devising a plan to get to her bed and television. She also seems to not take his education as seriously as I think that she should. His report card has been available for almost 4 weeks now, but she has not picked it up from the school and does not know how he performed.
As a ‘Big Brother’ I feel obligated to expand the young man’s mind, to take him places that he would not otherwise go. And although I have spent the past month doing things that Jamal enjoys, and that I loved at that age, I want to limit our time in front of the television in the future.
As Christmas approaches, I’ve given a lot of thought to what gift I want to get him. Since he still plays a 3rd generation video game console, and this holiday season marks the inauguration of the 5th generation, the games for his system are exceptionally cheap. But now that I have come to more fully understand his home environment, I feel like I cannot give him anything that would encourage another minute in front of the television. So, I’m basically going to violate everything that I learned about Christmas as a kid, and give him some books. My hope is that he will find them entertaining, and that they will activate his imagination and desire to read more books. So far I’m leaning towards The Chronicles of Narnia series, the Series of Unfortunate Events series, and some basic cartoon drawing books. Any other ideas for the 12 year old age range? Of course, in the back of my mind I keep imagining all of the creative things other than reading that I would have thought of to do with a book that I opened on Christmas morning at that age.

Family Building

Another month in the hospital, another chance to see Black American statistics come to life. I split the past 4 weeks between Obstetrics/Gynecology clinics and the Labor and Delivery floor of a Baltimore hospital. On average, I met about 4-5 pregnant or postpartum black women a day and either did a quick check up (if in the clinic) or assisted in the delivery of their child if they were on the labor and delivery floor. Although I will never voluntarily come near a gynecology clinic or a delivery ward again, I must admit that childbirth is one of the most beautiful things that I have ever witnessed. In case there was any confusion, that is despite the screaming, bleeding, and vomiting, not because of it. Unfortunately, I found that in many cases the deeper implications of birth often diminished my appreciation of new life. In the stillness that followed birth, I would often peer over at the newborn as he or she lay beneath the heating lamp and imagine their future. On many occasions, I lamented the child's unlikely prospects of enjoying a stable household, and a strong upbrining based on the little information that I had already gathered from her parents. Young, unmarried, and uneducated.
70 percent of black children are born to unmarried parents, and only 32 percent of black children have fathers in the home. These statistics echoed in my mind each time I greeted a black mother. Sadly, of the 70-80 women that I met over the past month, only 6 or 7 black mothers were married. Almost one third of them were either teenagers, or had been pregnant as teenagers. One statistic that I have not come across, maybe because it doesn't really matter, is how many black fathers are present when life begins. I was very surprised to see that in more than 50% of cases, the boyfriend (baby-daddy) was present for birth or an appointment. Unfortunately, current statistics predict that they won't be staying much longer.
My experiences over the last month supported the census and health department statistics that I have read many times before concerning a general decline in the stability of Black families. Stable, two-parent homes have positive correlations with good outcomes among children regardless of geography and race. In a perfect world, this fact alone would inspire everyone to carefully plan pregnancy and family building. But that is rarely seen among the poor blacks of Balitmore and many other cities in America. So what can we do to improve these children's lives despite these circumstances? For those that are capable, mentor a child in need or support someone who does. In the case of Big Brothers Big Sisters, mentors have been shown to make dramatic differences in the lives of young people. For those already mentoring, thank you, and feel free to share your experiences.

Shake 'N Bake

On Sunday, Jamal and I tried something a little different. I realized that I had come up with most of the ideas for our outings, so when he asked about going to the local skating rink for a free, ‘family skate’ session, I thought it would be a good idea. My fiancé decided to join us so that she could meet Jamal and spend the afternoon getting acquainted. Having visited local skating rinks in many suburban settings, I was interested to see what differences I would find in a ‘hood’ roller rink.
One of the first things that grabbed my attention was that the hood had actually named the local family fun center after America’s favorite home fried chicken, Shake and Bake. Fascinating. Then there was the thumping loud rap music that could be heard from the moment we entered the vestibule. It was so loud that the ticket booth lady and I had to repeat ourselves constantly while I bought the tickets. Why would anyone think it appropriate to blast Clipse, T.I. and Snoop for the 10 and under crowd? To my utter amazement, the DJ did not play a single R&B, Pop, or any form of non-rap tracks for the duration of the ‘family skate.’ He did however, play the edited versions so that the children were only treated to the first syllable of each profanity or innuendo. I was also surprised to see that the rink had employed not one, but two rink bouncers to man the doors between the ticket booth and the rink. How many guys does it take to tell the first graders not to cut line?
On a more positive note, I witnessed in person what could be described as rhythmic figure skating/skate dancing, but is officially known as Jam Skating. I’m sure that this has probably been around since the 80’s or before, and I have seen it in a number of music videos from the past few years, but never in an actual rink. Jam Skating was featured in that horrible movie, 'Roll Bounce' that made a brief stop in theatres on its way to DVD last year. Throughout the session, some of the older boys and the rink referees demonstrated some serious moves; spins, bounces, shakes, and glides and all with the rhythm of the tracks. They were quite a sight to behold. I have to admit, I felt really out of touch. I spent most of my formative years in the rink trying to run my brothers off the track, or just seeing how fast I could go with no regard for rhythm or coolness.
Jamal and I raced around the rink a whole bunch of times, playing cat and mouse, and weaving in and out of crowds. Periodically, I broke away to force my fiancé to venture away from the wall around the rink for a lap or so. After about 45 minutes, it became clear to me why I used to resort to trying to ram my brothers and friends into the walls. There’s not a whole lot to do other than go in circles over and over. But since Jamal was having a good time, I just kept rolling.
This outing really brought out Jamal’s thoughtful and caring side. He repeatedly offered to buy us lunch, and even offered to leave early when he noticed that I was getting tired. I normally wouldn't let him see me like that on an outing, but I had worked a 24 hour shift the day before. He also purchased some light up jewelry for us to use during the ‘lights out’ skate half way through the session. I didn’t take him up on the lunch, but gladly accepted my flashing ‘power ring.’ Even though it is already broken, probably never to flash again, I’m going to keep the ring as a souvenir. Maybe the two of us will share a laugh years down the road about flashing jewelry and our trip to the fried chicken skating rink.

Enough

Over the past week I read Juan Williams' cultural wake-up call, Enough: The Phony Leaders, Dead-End Movements, and Culture of Failure That Are Undermining Black America--and What We Can Do About It . Williams wrote this book in support of Bill Cosby's repeated assaults on the most destructive, and self-defeating behaviors that are rotting the core of contemporary Black Culture. Enough focuses on the defeatist, victim mentality which festers among poor blacks, and is encouraged by "Black Leaders" and popular culture. Williams takes special care to address the inevitable personal attacks and criticisms that are aimed at Cosby and any other Black person that insists personal responsibility and accountability are the only means to improved economic and social outcomes for African Americans. Although Mr. Williams' assessment can at times be overwhelming and depressing, I highly reccomend this book to anyone interested in a new approach fixing our communities. Click on the link below to read other reader's opinions on Enough.

Amazon.com Customer Reviews

Air and Space

On Saturday, Jamal and I decided on a day trip to the National Air and Space Museum as our first outing in many weeks. As a child, my parents hauled me and my brothers out to the National Mall for a day full of ‘culture’ on numerous occasions. I have to admit, I dreaded most of our trips down there. With the exception of the Air and Space museum, I usually found counting the number of steps until I made it back to the Metro station more exciting than most of the other museum exhibits. I’m not sure if the museums have improved exponentially since then, or if I was just a knucklehead, because now I enjoy them almost as much as an afternoon of cereal and video games. I split an entire day last summer between two museums and saw only a fraction of what I had intended to. So given my new found enthusiasm for the Smithsonian exhibits, I just knew that Jamal would have to love it too. Who wouldn’t be amazed to see retired space craft suspended from a vaulted ceiling? Apparently, Jamal wouldn’t.
Always a fan of space travel, I decided that it would be best to start our visit on the ‘space’ side of the museum. As we approached each capsule, module, or rocket, I went into what must have been painful detail about its technological and historical significance. I tried my best to put everything in perspective on a level that I thought he could understand and appreciate. Regardless, about and hour into our tour I knew that Jamal was bored. How could he be bored? This was great stuff. Even as a kid I could see that, I think.
Eager to prevent his boredom from slowing the pace of the day’s events, I decided we should head to another museum. On our way out, Jamal asked me if we could stop by an exhibit called ‘How Things Fly’. Turns out it’s a room full of about 25 physics experiments made for children. They featured visitor controlled devices that demonstrated the principles of air flow, pressure, friction, and flight. I couldn’t believe that I had almost missed this room altogether. We ended up staying for another hour and a half so that we could tinker with all of the different contraptions and had an absolute blast. The evening wound down with Pizza back at my parents’ house before we drove back to Baltimore. Despite my attempts to explore Jamal’s plan for achieving straight A’s this quarter, our return trip conversation quickly turned into a discussion about the Justice League’s roster of heroes and a comparison of their powers. He’s definitely motivated, but I think I’m going to have to wait for his report card before we can have any meaningful discussions. No sweat for right now though, we’ll get there.

Caught in the Struggle

I've been pretty busy in the hospital for the past month, and have seen very little of Jamal as a result. Thankfully, my current rotation ends in a week followed by a three day weekend. Typically, I'd rather discuss my dealings with Jamal and the lessons learned in my attempts to be the best mentor possible to him, but in light of my recent experiences, I will diverge just a bit.
For the past month I have been doing an internal medicine infectious disease rotation. In Baltimore, that translates to seeing HIV patients in various states of disrepair all day every day. Most of our cases are further complicated drug use, other STDs, and completely dysfunctional living arrangements. As my preceptor so eloquently put it, "To be seen on this service, you have to be a loser at life." So basically, the only patients that I have seen for the past three weeks are HIV positive, non-compliant, IV drug abusers. And of course 100% of them have been Black. Researching the topic of inner-city black poverty through books, blogs, etc. opened my eyes quite a bit. But joining the team that attempts to treat the most severely diseased, addicted, and desperate of the ghetto's casualties has been far more educational and painful. The patients that I have cared for over the past month embody the self-destructive tendencies that permeate and diminish Black American culture and I can hardly stand to watch any more.
In the course of caring for them, I often become curious about the indivual and what sent them so far in the wrong direction. The physician role allows for, and even encourages a high degree of privilege into the private lives of these patients. "How did you get HIV?" "How often do you use drugs?" "Which ones do you use?" "How many children do you have?" Of course, it's the response to that last question that weighs most heavily on me. I have come to believe that the greatest obstacles to success among poor blacks are parents who pass their failures onto the next generation, legacies of addiction, lawlessness, and miseducation where true success is a rare exception. I am skeptical about the chances of there ever being widespread reversal of these kinds of legacies, but I still believe individuals can make a difference. The past three weeks have been difficult, but I am strengthened in my resolve to make sure that Jamal and all the young men that I will mentor in the future are equipped with the knowledge and understanding to escape their parents' mistakes.