unanswered questions

His eyes are dark, perhaps darker than any I have ever seen. If the room is not well lit, it is nearly impossible to detect where his pupils end and the iris begins.

Those eyes could get my blood boiling in an instant, or inspire and breathe new life into my teaching methods for an entire school day. In his moments of feisty defiance, I saw my brother in this boy: oh so frustrating, yet impossible to not love him. And oh, how I loved him!
This third grader’s thirst for knowledge about planets and astronomy and math facts and presidential history was unquenchable. I like to think that on most days I stoked that fire and did not extinguish it, even if he was interrupting or a nuisance during lessons.

A sweet soul hides behind those eyes, his kindness evident everyday in the way he protects his younger sister, or the way he adores his mom, dad, and most days, his teacher – me. His huge heart is visible when he reaches out to our classmates who have been diagnosed with severe social disorders. He was one of many in my classroom, and quite the thorn in my side on some days, disruptive in class, at times full of attitude, his temper like a short fuse ready to ignite. But when this child is motivated and stimulated, an environment a good teacher would provide every day, he was the kind of pupil all teachers dream of: hungry for knowledge, eager to teach his peers, engaged in the lesson.

His eyes searched mine for answers that I did not have. Those darks eyes of his, inquisitive every single day, asked me unspoken questions frequently. Why are the odds stacked against me, the first of my family born in America? Why will I struggle to pay for college, and statistically unlikely to even get there? Why do one out of ten of my peers in my same financial situation graduate from high school? One out of 10?!

This child, with his huge heart and dark eyes and hungry brain, deserves exactly what my white, middle class brother and I had – great teachers, strong principals, and limitless opportunities as long as you’re willing to work for them. Yet statistically, my brown eyed boy is at a disadvantage because of his family’s ethnicity and income level. However, he’s at a KIPP school in Houston, and though they have their own list of challenges and trials, because he’s a KIPPster he’s above level in reading and math and on target to study space or pediatric medicine, his two dreams. But this over-achiever would also like to a soldier of some sort after college and he would “love to learn as much about the president’s as I can!” What does he want to do with his free time? Become a great mechanic so he can help his dad with his job.

He is one of dozens that have forever changed my outlook: education statistics have a face, and that face has very dark eyes asking me: Why am I not guaranteed free public education similar to the boy down the street, living in the house bigger than mine?

Why are the schools I must attend due to zoning laws failing me, yet they remain open? How will my best friend, who did not get into the KIPP lottery, learn about the solar system? “He doesn’t have a great teacher like you, Ms. Rob! They have not talked about the planets at all. She doesn’t even read out loud to them!”

These are questions we need to answer. Programs like Teach for America are on the frontlines, attempting to find solutions with their “whatever it takes” mindset and their dedicated, fired up teachers. I admittedly left the classroom after two years, and we need people who will stay much longer than that. But, we need to ensure that those who are in the classroom are the best instructional coaches possible, and I wasn’t sure that was me. I do know this: I love this brown eyed boy, and there are literally millions of him out there, waiting for answers.

When? When will our schools be equal?

Why? Why is the answer to many of our questions “no?” Why hasn’t this been fixed yet?

Where? Where are the solutions and the hopeful future we deserve?

How? How is it that a 10th grader in rural Mississippi is reading on a 4th grade level? How is she going to pursue life, liberty, or happiness?

We hear your questions, and organizations like TFA and charters and good politicians and active families are fighting for the answers you deserve. Until then, brown eyed boy, keep reaching for the stars. Study the planets with gusto, my friend. Your passion for knowledge is contagious, and I have full faith in you and your classmates. I am thankful to you, and your parents for letting me get to know you so closely. I am thankful to my school leader for the responsibilities I was given as your teacher. And perhaps most importantly, I am thankful to Teach for America for such a wonderful opportunity. Without the existence or support of that organization, I would not have had this experience, this time to learn about life, America’s students, and our education system. Brown eyed boy, keep reaching for the stars, and hopefully one day soon you won’t have to stretch further or work harder than the boy down the street. Keep reaching!