Contracted in the four pale walls of this unknown place, I find myself anxiously waiting to be someone, to be part of someone, and to believe in someone. It feels pointless, and even if everyone says that it is worthy, including the teacher, I still think that all that they have is the will, perhaps I do too, but there is something else missing. But I sit and wait; I wait for the kids, for their happy faces, full of hunger and desperation. Perhaps I feel the same way; even if I felt different (because I did) I am the same, the lack of true happiness behind my eyes, the fake, bogus smile packed of unsaid things, full of mystery and uncertainty. And this is the beginning of the journey, the journey that ended but that continues altogether. The notebook was the first step to our infiltration into their world; the object that resembles one’s identity, the obstacle to hiding your true feelings, the life behind the life. This was a good step, I thought, it doesn’t look that unworthy, this way the kids are going to be able to have something that is theirs, that no one, not even misery will ever detach from them. By the third week, their notebooks were packed of reflections, full of courage and potency. These kids were able to bring life into the paper; they displayed their sentiments and brought out their thoughts. This was genius. It was not so much about the notebook, but about how these kids are subject to freedom, how they seek freedom and go after it whenever they get the chance.And this is what we offered to the kids. The freedom that they lack at the school where teachers are diagnosing their performance at all times, where they’re tested on their intelligence and knowledge based on a three-hour test where they’re tortured until they realize that the material in the test is too complicated for them. This is not how it works with us. As soon as the kids enter the room, they realize that it’s different. They don’t understand what is different perhaps, but they do know that it is. Here, they are able to write about an entry on their notebooks, they could do as they wish with the entry, they’re not timed, graded or any other insane way of torturing kids. Then we may draw, paint, we do insightful things such as paintings that represent our feelings about other things etc… The kids are not used to exercises like this, where they can really speak for themselves and actually say things as they feel it, but they realized that this was the place to do this. At this point in my life, the development of my mind is at its highest point. The reflection on every subject brings true meaning to my actions, the analysis of these kids enhance my analytical thinking and I become an expert on educating these children on how to be free, on how to let their thoughts flow and be present at all times. This new world that I entered has ended, but not at all and this is because that stage of my life has ended in time, but my spirit is still attached to it, like the storyline that becomes one’s self. This storyline is that one that is not present but only because of other things, but it still remains as a lecture, the lecture that has changed my mind in many ways.The knowledge that I acquired from this experience is indescribable. I understand about the crucial segregation that still exists in today’s schools and how this racial segregation affects these kids on a regular basis. Not only the school, but the neighborhood as a whole is also subject to this segregation. This brings scarcity, poor advancement and deterioration of mind and spirit in all cases. This “black school” in this neighborhood has potential in regards to the students. Most of these kids are brilliant, they are smart and their only problem is the problem that the system creates itself. There is insecurity in them, there’s low self-esteem and this is only because those ridiculous standardized tests say so, only because the grades based on a spelling insurrection says so and this is not fair. The true knowledge and appreciation of things comes from the soul, from the will and hope and exists in one’s body. Without these, these kids are just wondering around, waiting to be mandated by teachers, subject to slavery and maltreating. My class was life heaven. My peers were exceptionally devoted to the class, as I was. This brought the potential of all of us together, our will united, and all of our good intentions to make the class feel like the best possible environment. This experience is now part of me, it is a new endeavor that I accomplished and that became part of me, it was one of many storylines that I play, and that even though it is physically over, the spiritual side of it is still a storyline that represents me.
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