Roshawne Mackey walked into the Jordan Downs community center clutching a pink pamphlet from a funeral over the weekend, her face like stone.
Her niece had been 11 — a diabetic who wasn't given her insulin shots. The dozen or so women in the parenting class listened as Mackey described how the little girl used to make backpacks out of cereal boxes, how she'd adored Hello Kitty. Mackey's expression remained stoic, but tears slid from her eyes.
Within minutes, most of the other women were crying too. Across from Mackey, Veronica Hale put her head down on the scratched laminate table and wept for her 4-month-old girl, who had recently died in her sleep. Another woman spoke of her two sons, killed years before in separate murders. Jamie Drear thought of her boy — still alive, but locked in a state mental hospital for an assault committed during a schizophrenic episode.
Their teacher, Sydnia McMillan, silently passed out tissues.
A retired elementary school principal in her late 50s, she'd been hired to give parenting tips to mothers at the rundown housing project because of her expertise in education. With a master's degree, a comfortable home in Inglewood and a close-knit family of high-achieving children, she inhabited a different world.
How could she hope to help these women? Only four months into the job, she felt overwhelmed by the unplanned pregnancies and meager job skills, the violence, disease and unnecessary death. In her first weeks of work, she met three mothers who had lost more than one son to murder.
Staring at her sobbing students, she had an idea. "Today we're going to talk about the process of grief and loss," the teacher said.
I too have lost a child, she said softly. Like you, I know what it's like to feel sorrow so heavy I can't imagine rising from bed in the morning.
Often over the next eight months, the women in her class would think back to the lesson she offered that day, as they set about trying to change their lives.
::
McMillan is among about two dozen teachers, social workers and others who descended upon Jordan Downs last March as part of an unprecedented campaign to transform the Watts project from a long-standing hub of violence and poverty into a safe and appealing community that can draw in wealthier residents.
The plan, which will depend heavily on millions of dollars in still-uncertain federal funding, calls for replacing the shabby buildings with condominiums, apartments, fresh lawns and gardens.
McMillan's job is to help prepare the way.
Her class for English-speaking mothers meets every Monday morning, sometimes with more than 10 women gathered around the table, sometimes with as few as three. Like McMillan, all of her students are African American. Some have lived in Jordan all their lives.
On paper, the curriculum is standard stuff: instruction on the importance of family rituals and early literacy, advice on getting kids to eat their vegetables and heed the rules. In reality, the lessons often veer into edgier territory.
A conversation on conflict resolution, for instance, morphed into a back-and-forth over a 24-year-old woman's brawl with her boyfriend's new girlfriend — in front of their kids.
The young woman had come to class with a black eye and a profane new tattoo across her knuckles, boasting of her toughness.
"Have you learned anything in this class that will help you?" McMillan asked.
The woman nodded. "I can walk away."
She paused a moment.
Anda sedang membaca artikel tentang
Class on parenting becomes a journey through loss, grief and hope
Dengan url
http://usiamudahan.blogspot.com/2013/03/class-on-parenting-becomes-journey.html
Anda boleh menyebar luaskannya atau mengcopy paste-nya
Class on parenting becomes a journey through loss, grief and hope
namun jangan lupa untuk meletakkan link
Class on parenting becomes a journey through loss, grief and hope
sebagai sumbernya
0 komentar:
Posting Komentar