FamilyEducation Blogs

August 21, 2009

"Don’t ever say that we don’t care."

In response to a remark made by one of the boys, a staff member, her voice filled with emotion, said, "You can call us rats, snitches, cops, informants, or even federal agents, but don't ever say that we don't care." [more]

August 20, 2009

“You calling me a liar?!”

I walked into the room angry because six of the boys did not come back to work after cashing their checks the other day. Now they were back.

I sat in a chair outside their semi-circle. A few of the boys tried to talk to me but I ignored them. "She’s mad," one of the boys said under his breath. I was glad they could see that I was upset.

In my head I was fussing, "Why do I continue to do this?" [more]

August 12, 2009

Suspicion . . .

The boys were very suspicious today. I am not sure what happened. They had many questions, all of which I have answered many times before.

One of the boys assumed I was a federal agent, because otherwise he couldn’t understand why I would take them out to dinner and give them a job. "She must be working for the feds." [more]

August 11, 2009

Free

I remember when I was released from the county jail. I passed through the door. I inhaled the air. I walked through the grass. I spread my arms, because I was finally free. [more]

November 13, 2008

Friendship

Listening to the cars drive over the wet pavement, I felt a little down today. I thought about friendship. I watched my boys. They have a unique connection with each other. I have even heard them say, “I love you,” to one another. But lately I’ve noticed that Aj hasn’t been with them. Aj is a good kid; all my boys are, in spite of what you may believe about gang members. Aj was still on the fringes. He hadn’t quite crossed the line; still in school, and occasionally making curfew. I have mixed feelings about not seeing him. [more]

November 12, 2008

.38 miles of life or death

In an effort to discover the kinds of services gang youth need, a local foundation facilitated a focus group with my boys. Sitting scattered in the chairs that the old church mothers sit in during the week to pray, the facilitators began to ask the boys questions like, “What can solve youth violence?” Although Mitch answered his cell phone the few times it rang, they were paying attention. They answered the question: “I don’t know. [more]

November 6, 2008

"I ain't sh*t"

Four of the young men that I work with came in for our weekly session. They sat scattered in a circle. I pulled a chair to the center of them. Did you all watch the elections? I heard muffled “no’s” and one “yes.” I asked, “What do you all think about a black man being the next president?” The room was silent until someone said, “I don’t know that man.” “Did you all follow the race?” I asked. “No, not really,” they said. I planned to have a serious conversation with them today about giving up gangbanging. [more]

October 6, 2008

Our strays

I was at a corporation the other day, sitting in its beautiful lobby waiting for my host. There were three women; one is sitting at the receptionist desk, two standing over the counter. I listened as they talked.

“My cat is lonely.” It sounded as if the receptionist had two cats and one of them died. She then mentioned a stray that lives behind her home. Another woman said, “I got a stray who was housebroken.” I pulled out my palm pilot because I had to write this down. For example, this: “Marco doesn’t like to be combed.” [more]

October 4, 2008

My boys

I sat in the parking lot of my church waiting for the boys. I told them to come an hour before the dinner was to start, because they are usually late. At 7:14 p.m. my phone rang: “Talia, we’re at Black’s crib, we on our way.” [more]