Missive from Baseball Season - Entrepreneur Generations

Baseball season started March 1, so blogging (which hasn't been very regular anyway) has taken more of a backseat. Last year was a great year for both the team and to be a coach, as my group of guys organized a massive fundraising effort to purchase a batting cage, which we successfully installed in an unused courtyard in our building. And the kids enjoyed, largely, a great season, winning some big games and, while falling short of a city championship, showcased much dedication throughout the year, cementing their legacy as the group who brought in the batting cage and will continue to visit when they have college breaks. I'm looking forward to what this season's team will do; they have named our GroupMe communication group "The Brotherhood" and many have been training for the season, independent of me, since October. The first three weeks of official practice have been some of the strongest I've ever seen (I've been head varsity coach for 13 years, and assistant coach the previous two years), with much credit to the athletes' readiness, and other credit to the phenomenal weather we have had in Maryland in early March this year; a couple of days, as temperatures neared 80 degrees, I was out on the field in shorts and a sleeveless shirt; for me, throwing 200 pitches of batting practice in the sun to a bunch of great kids is one of the greatest feelings in the world.


There's not only been no time for blogging, but there hasn't been a lot to say, to be honest. I have been unable to pay as much attention to Baltimore politics recently, and, while I think there are lots of interesting things happening in my 9th and 12th grade English classes, nothing has formulated in my mind as a blog post just yet. The 9th graders are working through Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's short story collection The Thing Around Your Neck, and using two of the stories to answer the question, "What is the danger of a single story?". The essay writing process has been fun to witness, as I have had many workshopping days, and I'm trying to see that each of my students embarks on a journey of what it means to answer that question, of how to support it, and how to write it all out. They're largely all at different spots in their journey -- some kids still don't quite get what a "single story" is and are re-watching Adichie's TED talk, while others feel good about their thesis and are delving into finding their evidence. I try to be a coach in the classroom, not giving them the answers, just giving them some pointers, trying to get them to ask themselves the questions they need to ask. My seniors, on the other hand, are largely batting a senioritis that perhaps has been buoyed by the week off because of snow, or maybe a couple of days off due to heaters being broken, or maybe the nice weather we've had in March. And when I say they're "battling" it, obviously it's more that I am the one battling it. Yesterday, one student asked if the copy of Americanah I had given her (through a grant from The Children's Bookstore) was just for pleasure reading, since clearly we wouldn't be doing anything in the last month of the school year before IB exam; the thought that we still had an entire 600-page novel to read and five weeks left of class was a surprise to her. I think they'll come around, though; Americanah has been a hit in each of the years I've taught it and we chose it for this senioritic spot in the school year for this very reason.

Adding coaching onto the teaching schedule fills up the days with good work, and when I arrive back at home, roughly 12 hours after I left, I still have lessons to plan the next day and papers to grade. But it's okay. The ten or eleven weeks of baseball season zoom by like a Baltimore dirt bike on North Avenue. I get exercise every day, which is good, as I've dropped 20 pounds since early February. Every day I get to yell a little, and be in the green grass and mud a little. And I've needed it. I've been so busy that I've not focused on some of the sad things that have happened lately, in chronological order: the death of my beloved feline companion of 15 years; the death of the author of the book that most changed my life; the freak drowning death of a friend on vacation in Grenada, whose smile lit up a room and my Facebook wall almost every day; the death of a wise and kind former student, of leukemia at the age of 25, who was always more concerned others than herself, including me, as I'd grown close to her since she graduated, and who risked and sacrificed her own life so she could bring her daughter, now not even a year old, to full term. Lots of sadness over the last six weeks, so, when I do slow down, for example, to see a great student production of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, as I did last week, everything floods out, and my eyes fill with tears that spill down my cheeks as I grin with unfettered joy, because life has been busy and rich, and because, cliched as it is, death and sadness makes us appreciate our lives and moments of joy even more. And, wow, the play was so good.

So, thank you, baseball season, and throwing batting practice, and masterful student productions, and kids struggling through and working with the writing process, and that feeling we get after exercise, and better health, for reminding me of the beauty and joy that propels us through those moments of pain that we all face. And thank you to those who make others' lives more rich by their presence, who come into our worlds and brighten them for a snapshot of time, adding value and love, making us better and hopefully inspiring us to do the same for others.

The following is a brief memory of a some great people who did just that for me, plus my cat:

The beautiful young woman you see above is Charisma Bush, and I learned more about faith, strength, and sacrifice from her than I'm sure she ever learned from me. I taught her (and her husband above, William, who battled brain cancer while in high school and was always an incredibly decent and friendly young man despite his battles) both in the 10th grade, and she was always a positive influence in class, always loved to read and write. She became an English major, something I was very proud of, and we stayed in close touch throughout the years; she visited my classroom and spoke to my current students multiple times, and was always the first to like my Facebook posts. I knew she was ill, but not as ill as she ended up being; she was always more concerned with other people, including me -- she was always checking on my health after my heart condition diagnosis -- but more importantly her beautiful daughter Eliana. She received her cancer diagnosis around the time she became pregnant, and carried her daughter to full term, against doctors' orders, because that's the sort of person she was: ever loving, ever brave, ever a fighter, ever faithful. Charisma was wise and kind, with a streak of feistiness in her that I loved, and I'll never forget her.

This is Neil Abraham, my friend who passed away suddenly while vacationing in Grenada, the victim of a rip tide while swimming. I didn't know him long, and we had only hung out a couple times, but he was one of those people who made you feel important, who was always smiling and saying insightful things about politics, about Baltimore. We became better friends as a result of Facebook, where we often talked politics; he was one of my favorite conversationalists on the medium. On the morning he passed away, he was discussing Donna Edwards' candidacy on my wall with me, a regular occurrence. When I vote in this primary and this general election, I'll definitely be thinking a lot about Neil.

My loyal 15-year companion, Tobey. At the time of his death, he weighed 4.9 lbs and was suffering from lymphoma. Tobey followed me around everywhere, let me cradle him in his arms, and was my loyal friend for my entire time in Baltimore until his recent and quick death. I miss him every day.

I love To Kill a Mockingbird, and in many ways it is a book that helped me learn how to teach and how to approach literature. Thank you, Harper Lee. Read my July 18 blog entry about Go Set a Watchman.

from Epiphany in Baltimore http://ift.tt/1ZdrI9G Missive from Baseball Season - Entrepreneur Generations

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