Most of you know that I'm a harsh critic of the traditional school. And sitting in the stands as the father of a Black Male Valedictorian, I let out a sigh of relief. Not joy... relief.
Seventeen years ago, I quit a 6-figure job to stay at home with my son. I felt immense fear of raising a son in a culture that seemed poisonous to Black boys. Having mentored several, I felt I had little choice. I knew the stats. My son was going to buck the trends.
I potty trained him and taught how to read (at the same time). I became a Tiger mom before realizing the lunacy of that form of parenting.
Most said I was too hard on him. Maybe.
He cooks, grocery shops, does laundry, and dishes. He is respectful, strong, loves the Lord, and was cutting grass at age 7.
Maybe I was too hard… or maybe I was one of the only who saw ABSOLUTE GREATNESS in him.
I had to fight low expectations from all sides: media, schools, even my closest family and friends. I had to cast a higher vision for him. The isolation I felt was tremendous.
I have never praised my son for his grades. Only effort and character. He is surrounded by those who do the opposite. This is why I hate grades. It only measures that which does not matter.
So I am conflicted about the praise heaped on him as Valedictorian and I have many regrets as a Dad.
But I am relieved.
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