new perspectives and points of view

In case you were unaware, I am currently a tutor to a fabulous girl in the DC 3rd Ward located in the heart of Columbia Heights. She is a beautiful black young woman that is a sophomore in a DC high school. She is full of life and energy and spunk - I love talking to her, even though I sometimes feel so uncool and out of touch with teenagers.

Initially I had some serious worries about relating to a young inner city black woman. Even more I was worried that she would not relate to me, would not see me as a woman that could understand her. You know the whole image of "YOU DON'T KNOW ME" was a big possibility in my mind. I felt like I would be able to connect with her if she would be willing to work on it with me, but doubt surfaced in my mind often and I thought that maybe I was being naive to think that I would be able to relate to her. Perhaps I have seen way too many movies like Dangerous Minds ... I was picturing myself as Michelle Pfiffer with Coolio's "Gangsta's Paradise" going through my head ...

"been spending most their lives, living in the gangsta's paradise
keep spending most our lives, living in the gangsta's paradise

they say I gotta learn, but nobody's here to teach me
if they can't understand it, how can they reach me
I guess they can't, I guess they won't
I guess they front, that's why I know my life is out of luck, fool"

How could I reach her? The coordinators were very optimistic and are extremely supportive and didn't seem worried about it at all. Probably because they were keeping something else in mind, something that binds us all, something that knows no racial or socioeconomic boundaries - the love our Saviour Jesus Christ has for each and every one of us. This love is shared through His gospel and through the organization of the Church. We share our faith - the gospel and a knowledge that Christ was our Redeemer. Once I remembered that my heart was calmed ... I knew that all was going to be ok even if it was a bit of a struggle.

I was pretty sure that this was going to work out well when I saw how vocal and strong she was. She had a voice and views (a girl after my own heart) - I love a strong woman. And then I knew that it was meant to be when we sat down the first day and we talked about the classes she is taking. English and World History! Could it be anymore perfect? I think not. With this affirmation that she and I were meant to be spending Wednesday nights pouring over sophomore text books - I was suddenly aware of just how grateful I was for these subjects. Scattered through out the basement rooms of the church some tutors were going over algebra and geometry - I CAN'T DO THAT! Once again I acknowledge the blessings I am receiving, even if it seems small or silly - no math this semester is a blessing for me. I will be in some real trouble if math class is on the schedule for next semester - which I am sure it is. So I am going to be happy for the now!

Of course, some Wednesday nights are more productive than others ... that's the nature of teenagers and high school and substitute teachers. But every week we learn a little bit more and most importantly we laugh together. My favorite part of learning with her is when she helps me see a new point of view when we stop only reading the words on the page and start talking in more depth. Like the look of disbelief she had on her face when I explained a little bit about plate-tectonics while reading about Japan and it's many volcanoes and its vulnerability to earthquakes. Telling her stories about how different earthquakes move and what they feel like when they happened in California when I was a kid. I am seeing things I have experienced and have learned about in a whole new way!

She teaches me sooo much more than that though! This last Wednesday was particularly insightful. We were reading a chapter of her world history text book and answering the three questions at the end. The chapter was on the practice of slavery. The Atlantic Slave Trade into the Americas as well as the practice of slavery within the continent of Africa. We compared and contrasted the institutions and customs attached to slavery in both situations. As we read about the increase of slavery as a result of the rise of Islam in North Western Africa and to Muslim beliefs in subjecting criminals and prisoners of war to slavery, I saw this look of bewilderment and sadness and confusion on her face. "Why are black people making each other ..." she started to say. I could see her sensor herself in my presence - as if to say "Only white people make black people slaves" ... we used the terms European and African in our proceeding conversation in order to distance ourselves from the sins of our fathers.

I tried to help her understand that slavery happened in various forms in all cultures of the world and that it was an evil plague of human nature ... people have been subjugating others for all of time unfortunately. The criteria and the confines of slavery change in time and space, but it has reared its ugly head for almost the entire existence of man. We talked about why slavery was so wrong and hurtful and how the concept of human rights was something new to this world - the idea that individuals had innate rights as human beings has not always been formulated or accepted. I could see in her face the struggle to understand and I could see that she was guarded on the subject - a black young woman discussing slavery with her single white female tutor. So we addressed the questions at hand and contrasted the practice of slavery in Africa and in the Americas. I learned so much! I learned of the very different forms that slavery took between Africa and the Americas. I saw the emotion and confusion tied to a practice that neither one of us had been around to witness or be apart of. I felt the divide between her and I for being on opposite "sides" of history.

But thankfully the night did not end on that note. In a way that only the optimism of youth can do, she shook off the past once the homework was completed. In true teenage girl fashion, she read me a love poem she wrote for English class, we giggled like girls do, and we practiced signing our names in her notebook.