Urban students hear they can go anywhere — but also that they’re going nowhere

One of my bright and gifted students last year taught me a great lesson on what it means to be a product of the rough and tumble streets of Columbus. On the outside, Marcos looked just like his peers. He struggled to keep his pants up and wore gold in his teeth and dreads in his hair. He hung with the same boys he grew up with in a rough neighborhood down the street from our school. From the outside, Marcos would appear to his teachers as yet another kid they needed to rescue from the prophecies of the streets.

But on the inside, Marcos was truly gifted. A little red flag on his records signified such. He was marked as above average in middle school, and as he reached upper level high school classes, he was forced to face a situation that challenged him to the very core.

Marco and kids like him fight a battle between what the streets define him as and what a school identifies him as and hopes he will become.

I watched the battle unfold before my eyes in Dual Enrollment English 101. Marcos and his classmates were handpicked to take a college-leveled course while still high school students. This program, with free college credit, is a remarkable opportunity for many of our students.

Marco sat totally engaged in class. He added wisdom and a profound perspective to our discussions that impressed not only his classmates, but me as well. In my classroom, he showed intelligence, mutual respect and a strong work ethic.

But when the bell rang and he entered the hallways, he became a different person. His vocabulary shifted, his intellect became hidden, and his mannerisms digressed.

One day in class, he received a bit of feedback that did not parallel his expectations of what he felt he deserved on the assignment. He erupted in an uncharacteristic rant that made me cower. His disruption forced me to have a conversation with him out in the hallway, a situation I rarely encounter in upper level courses.

But there I was, face to face with a different Marcos.

After his torrent of emotions and disdain, he finally allowed me to open the lines of a proper dialogue. We chatted for a good little while, out there in the hallway. And Marcos became quite transparent.

The words that came out of his mouth were the words that have shaped generation after generation. It was a neighborhood’s vocabulary that does not include words such as college, opportunity, potential, success. He spoke to me with defiance but also defeatism. He was choosing his peers over his potential.

He was displaying the ultimate example of peer pressure. In his tight circle of friends, it wasn’t cool to be smart. Being in my class was marring his reputation, and the pressure finally made him snap in frustration.

Do you know how hard it is to raise your positive voice above the many negatives ones a child hears in his head? Can you imagine how difficult it is to introduce the unfamiliar concept of accomplishment to a child who is constantly surrounded by misfortune?

I left him in the hallway to retrieve his assignment. I read the feedback out loud to him, and then I asked, “What are you hearing in these comments?” His reply: “That I’m not supposed to be in this class. That I can’t do this work.” This was my opportunity to speak the truth to this young man.

With all the calm authority I could muster, I explained to Marcos the differences between the voices. On his paper was the voice of constructive guidance to assist him in reaching success. In his head were familiar, yet tainted voices that spoke not to his potential but to his situations and limitations. And so I asked, “What voice are you going to listen to, Marcos?” We both re-entered the classroom, and Marcos squeaked through English 101.

Last week was the first week of a new school year. I saw Marcos huddled in a group of his rowdy neighborhood buddies. His schedule is different this year, and I wish I could say he chose the voice of guidance, but he did not. He chose the voice of familiarity.

So now we as a community have the same decision to make that I as a teacher have to make almost every day. How do we respond to the overwhelming odds stacked against us? How do we make a dent in the mentality of large sections of our community? How do we introduce achievement to those unfamiliar with it? As teachers tend to do, I reckon we just keep speaking the truth as loudly as we can in the hopes that somebody listens.

This story was originally published August 16, 2016 at 3:31 PM with the headline "Urban students hear they can go anywhere — but also that they’re going nowhere."