Reflections of a Troubled Black Man (eBook)

Chapter 1

Confronting Anger and Rage

“Holding on to anger is like grasping hot coal
with the intent of throwing it at someone else;
you are the one who gets burned.”
Buddha

I am passionate about teaching ninth grade American History. My ninth grade students are full of life, and every day is quite an adventure. I love sharing laughs with my students when we occasionally get off-topic. My goal is to create a safe, loving atmosphere that nourishes learning and personal growth. I am adamant about using reading comprehension techniques such as Think-a-Louds, Reciprocal Teaching, and Think Pair share activities. I yearn for students to be eager about their engagement with the historical text to create a meaningful learning environment. I manage a fun but strict classroom. I don’t tolerate disrespectful behavior. If my male students are tardy, they must do push-ups before they are allowed in my room. I tend to let my female students slide because they rarely arrive late. When students use profanity, they must look up long multisyllabic words and alternative ways to speak without being offensive to the class. I am the king of my classroom. Because of this, my students love and respect me. If students go too far, I will not hesitate to raise my voice and let them know I will not tolerate disrespect.

One day, in the teachers’ lounge, I heard teachers share frightening stories about a new student named Leon. I learned Leon had been transferred directly from a juvenile detention facility. Likewise, students shared their stories about Leon’s intimidating presence and how he had bullied them out of their lunch money. One day, as I stood outside my classroom looking at an empty hallway, I saw one student strolling toward me. He had an intimidating gait, one as if he ruled the school. We lock eyes like two prizefighters. I kept my eyes on his face, never blinking nor looking in another direction. No words were exchanged, but my stance and facial expression sent a message—not today, not ever. Additionally, I wish you would try me if you want to; if you are froggy, then leap!

A week later, as I discussed the causes and consequences of World War I, the door flew open as if it had exploded! Suddenly, a figure with a ski mask ran into my room and stood before me! He shouted a variety of curse words while continually grabbing his private parts. As I watched and listened to this masked bandit, all kinds of thoughts exploded in my head, but I didn’t make a sound. The thirty students in my room stared at this person until he turned and rushed out the door. I gave a plastic smile, and then I felt a sudden rush and influx of pain. I bolted for the door, intoxicated by my rage. I stalked the intruder from behind as he jogged from the second floor down to the first. I crept closer to him in full fight mode! My mind was desperate, and my reckless head was spinning. I was in a daze. I watched as he pulled off his mask and pushed the door open.

Leon ran out of the building towards the Board of Education, a short distance away. I forcefully pushed the door open and furiously watched him skip away, happy as he could be. I knew he thought he had gotten the best of me. I dashed after him, thinking this kid had to pay for this! So, I ran full speed ahead in my dress shoes. My tie was flowing in the wind like a kite. He had no idea I was running straight toward him. I grabbed him. He yanked away from my grasp. We squared off in front of each other, fists ready to fight. He said, “Man, get out of here before I swing on you!” I didn’t respond. Reason came back into my conscience somewhere between his threats and my silence. I said, “What’s your problem, Leon, bursting into my class like you crazy?” He said, “I was just playing around. You have a lot of pretty girls in there!” I uttered, “My class is my kingdom, and I don’t like anyone messing with my kingdom! Next time, if you want to come in, knock on the door and ask!” “Okay,” he said. We gave each other a quick embrace, and he ran off.

As I stood directly across from the Board of Education, thoughts flooded my mind! You left your class, chased a student out of the building, and almost got into a fistfight! I hurried back into the building with the “I’m about to get fired” expression on my face. Entering the building, I ran upstairs to my classroom, realizing the period had ended. I begrudgingly walked to the principal’s office with my heart in total panic. I walked into the office, and the secretary said, “Hey, Morris, was that you outside the school by the Board?” I shook my head with a sheepish grin and said, “Of course not, Ms. Betty.”

A few days before that incident, the conflict mediation teacher, Kathy, invited me to attend a three-day workshop called NVC, or Nonviolent Communication, in Columbus, Ohio. Why would she give me this? I don’t need this, I thought. I threw the brochure into the recycle bin. Something told me I had to rethink my decision, especially after the Leon incident. Honestly, I knew I had an anger problem. Somehow, throughout my life, I had managed to address it without any tools. I walked into Kathy’s office and expressed interest in attending the conference. Her face lit up with excitement. She gave me booklets to read and a tape to listen to before the conference.

The conference introduced me to a world created by Dr. Marshall Rosenberg. Dr. Rosenberg developed the NVC process out of curiosity to understand what caused humans to be hostile toward each other. He wanted to create peaceful alternatives to violence on a personal, social, and political level. Dr. Rosenberg received his Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology and started using his technique to integrate schools in the 1960s. Rosenberg eventually created the Center for Nonviolent Communication, which focused on the art of Compassionate Communication. It contributed to a radical shift or transformation in thinking, speaking, and communicating between people from all walks of life in diverse circumstances. Certified trainers who organize workshops, practice groups, and retreats offer NVC training worldwide. The training provides the tools and skills to help prevent and resolve conflicts in families, schools, businesses, corporations, countries, etc. NVC helps us to focus on the feelings and needs we all have rather than thinking, speaking, and acting by using dehumanizing labels or other habitual patterns that can lead to violence. NVC equips people to engage in creative dialogue to rebuild relationships and make collective decisions for the well-being of all.

I attended Dr. Rosenberg’s training. His playful way of using his guitar and puppets to facilitate this communication process provoked my need to learn more about this man and his approach. He had this spiritual energy that engaged the audience. I loved his ability to role-play different conflict scenarios and use the language of feelings and needs to get to the root cause of the dilemma. It sparked a new flame within me. I left the three-day conference with a new outlook on life and a desire to dig deeper into this process.

Filled with new enthusiasm after returning from the NVC retreat, someone knocked on the door during my sixth-period History class. I opened it, and there stood Leon. He humbly asked, “May I come to your class this time.” I said, “Of course.” Leon quietly walked in and sat down. When we finished the history lesson, he joined our discussion about personal struggles and openly shared his story of pain. We became close after that day, often talking during lunch and competing against each other by racing in the hallways. The three-day NVC conference changed my approach to working with aggressive or defiant students. I continued reading books about Compassionate Communication and incorporated a little of the language into my classroom and personal life.

One day, to my delightful surprise, the mediation specialist asked me if I would be interested in attending an eight-day intensive retreat on NVC. It would take place in Seattle, Washington, during the summer. With a smile as wide as the Atlantic Ocean, I said, “Absolutely!” “Great,” she responded. “I will submit your name to the principal.”

As an educator, I saw African American youth’s suppressed anger and rage. Before becoming a teacher, I worked in a juvenile halfway house. I vividly remembered the explosions the young men displayed, from not getting extra snacks to not receiving visits from loved ones. I recall young men being slow to forgive and quick to lash out, attack staff, or destroy property when things did not go their way. Ironically, working in a juvenile setting prepared me to work in inner-city school districts. I noticed similar outbursts there. I got first-hand experience with this pent-up rage on a Friday after With my students threw a baby shower for the birth of my son.

With a smile of gratitude on my face, I gleefully stroll across the third floor, heading towards the staircase. To my surprise, a young man decides to walk with me. As we walk, spiraling down from the third to the second floor, we spark a conversation. As we got to the second-floor landing, two other students leaped out with fists of fury and began punching him. I grabbed one of the students and slung him towards the staircase, stumbling down the stairs behind him. I quickly jumped up and saw a few more young men attack the student as he tried to fight for his life. I tossed and pushed them off again and again.

As this melee continued, a ring of students surrounded this battle royale like a huge crowd watching gladiators in a...