it takes a village

Johnny passes by in his cap and gown as a flood of memories pass.  I recall snippets of hard conversations, small arguments, difficult basketball games and the late nights where I was editing his papers.  I thought of that first moment when he was a fourth grader in a tiny house with no air conditioning and he explained that it had been over a year since he was enrolled in school.  I thought about the phone call from jail, when he asked me for help.  I remembered the victory of his eighth grade promotion, when he pulled me aside and said it was further than any of his brothers had made it.  I thought about the summers when he volunteered and I watched the kid I mentor become a mentor to others. 

In many ways, he feels more like a little brother than a kid I tutor.  It's easy in a moment like this to take credit, to claim that his accomplish is somehow due to my influence.  Yet, it's not like that at all.  He's not a trophy or a line I can add to a resume (or vitae, to sound more arrogant).  The truth is that I have been flaky at times.  When he worked a job, I made very little effort to meet his new schedule.  Often, he would call me to ask for help rather than me calling him to offer it. 

More than that, I realize that there are so many people who helped him.  A whole team of people prayed for him daily.  Teachers spent hours counseling him and working with him on his writing. His older brother offered discipline and helped shelter him from some of the craziness of the drugs and the gangs that still surround his neighborhood and family. (To put it in perspective, a few years back, I have witnessed, firsthand, drivebys in his neighborhood) His small group leader tracked with him in the most difficult times and spoke truth into his life in the most pivotal moments. 

So, when I think of the "success stories," it's easy to write them off as the results of a few gifted people.  It's easy to look for a Freedom Writers style story and offer easy inspirational answers.  Yet, the reality is that, in most of the stories, there is rarely one main character.  There is a community pulling for someone and offering hope in the worst circumstances.

I hear pundits all the time giving simple answers to fix education in the inner-city.  They toss around words like "accountability" or "higher expectations."  But if Johnny's story is at all normative, the reality is our biggest need is not PLC or block scheduling or even more computers or more accurate textbooks.  What we need is more people who care.  We need more people praying, tutoring, mentoring, counseling and teaching.