Introduction
Black males compose a little over 6 percent of the total U.S. population (McKinnon & Bennett, 2005). Literally millions of black males have achieved great things with their lives despite the challenges they've faced. Unfortunately, the media tend to focus on the minority of black men who have gotten into trouble with the law (for example) rather than the majority who are doing significant things with their lives and in their communities. My travels and experiences have demonstrated to me that black male success stories are far more common than many people may believe. These are the stories that must be sought out and told as frequently as possible to serve as examples for others.
As a public elementary school student in an urban school district in northern New Jersey in the late 1960s, I had few academic and social problems. I was an average student, not quite working to my potential, but nevertheless achieving the occasional As and Bs. I liked school, I liked my teachers, and I looked forward to going to school every day; I felt that it was a fun and worthwhile experience. I lived at home with my mother and maternal grandmother, but had an ongoing relationship with my father as well. All of my friends lived on my block, and all of our parents held us accountable for proper conduct while outside. Everyone in the neighborhood knew everyone else, which helped ensure that all of us did the right thing at all times.
When I entered high school, I was not prepared for the social dynamic that I encountered. As a young, inner-city black male, I felt enormous pressure to comply with the expected code of conduct for young black men as defined by my peers. Academic success became secondary and ultimately unimportant. My drive to succeed deteriorated to such a degree that my mother decided to move us to the suburbs, away from the distractions of the city.
This transition was a true culture shock. Instead of being part of the majority population, I was now instantly in the miniscule minority: I was one of only five black students in a high school of around 2,000. I learned very quickly that people in my new surroundings held certain assumptions. For example, because I was a tall black male, many of my peers thought that I had superior skills in basketball. Although I could hold my own and compete, I was by no means exceptional.
As a student, I unfortunately did not hold my own. I was not the student that I had the potential of becoming. Looking back on my experience now, it's clear that I never sensed any high expectation for me to be successful. Although I am aware that I had good teachers in elementary and high school, I cannot think of one who made a difference for me—one who met my classroom needs and inspired me to strive for excellence. My teachers didn't challenge me to excel academically, so I spent most of my energy on trying to adapt to my new environment and enhance my basketball skills. By comparison, my academic progress was of little importance. I did ultimately graduate, but I had to make up a lot of what I missed in junior college.
Finally, in college, I achieved academic excellence, ultimately graduatingsumma cum laude. This did not happen by chance, however: My public-speaking professor uttered three words to me that "turned on the light bulb," and I haven't looked back ever since. I had never given a speech before taking his class, and the prospect of doing so in front of my peers terrified me; being one of the few black students in the class only made matters worse. When it came time for me to give a speech, I told the professor that I couldn't do it. He told me that I had to, so I somehow found the courage to present one. When I was done, the professor said to me, "You speak well."
I had never heard this before. I was not aware of my potential as a public speaker, and therefore had not previously desired to speak publicly. As a result of what the professor said, I have been speaking publicly ever since.
The professor told me something about myself that I did not know. He inspired me, and as a result, I have been striving to be the best speaker that I can possibly be ever since he uttered those three words. To this day, I have no idea as to whether or not he was sincere, but that's not important. What is important is that I believed what he said and acted upon it. I believed that he saw something in me that I did not see in myself and took the time to let me know. Those three words that he uttered to me are what I credit for my success as a speaker over the past 22 years.
I was inspired anew when I entered graduate school. One of the courses I took required a great deal of writing. Once again, I was one of the few black male students in the class. When the professor handed back the first paper I had written—not only the first paper for the class, but the first I had written on the graduate level—he said to me, "You write well." Once again, I received three life-changing words from a significant figure. I initially expressed disbelief, but he insisted that I was a good writer. I had never heard this before; I did not know that I had any writing skills worth mentioning. Since hearing those three important words, I have gone on to write five books.
I once again heard three life-changing words in one of my leadership courses. One day, in front of the entire class, the professor said to me, "You're a leader." He didn't stop there, however. He proceeded to say, "You're not just an ordinary leader—you are a transformationalleader." Until that point in my life, I had never really viewed myself as a leader. I was still an elementary school teacher when I was taking the leadership course, but the professor sensed that my leadership qualities could help transform the school and possibly the district in which I worked. To this day, my leadership approach has been transformational. I am never satisfied with the status quo; I am always looking for ways to transform existing structures for the betterment of my students.
Teachers of black males have a responsibility to inspire them the way my professors inspired me. In my capacity as a principal, I announce to my students over the public address system every day that they are "most brilliant and most highly capable." I remind them that they are born with the potential to achieve excellence and greatness. I frequently say to educators that our roles are to motivate, educate, and empower—in that order. When we choose our words wisely and consider the power that words can have, we increase the probability that our students will achieve excellence. We must always remain mindful of the power and influence that we possess as educators, and we must use every opportunity that we have throughout the day to make our students aware of their greatness. If we fail to do this, the streets have a way of picking up the slack.
As you read this book, you'll notice that I ask a plethora of questions. I do this in an effort to get you to think deeply about what you are already doing and what adjustments you may need to make to your current practice. You will quickly find that you already possess the answers to many of the questions you have about meeting the classroom needs of black male students.
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