He had three teardrops outlined on his cheeks and five stars spread across his face like a constellation. He towered over me in a way that would be intimidating if I had met him anywhere else. But this was a classroom and he was a caring parent of one of my students who had come on his own initiative to see how his son was doing in my class. He was fresh out of prison and anxious to be a part of his kid’s life.
I called him on multiple occasions when his son was acting up in class. It’s not that his son is a “bad kid.” He’s just very talkative. And hyper. And goofy. And likes to play fight in class; and rap in class; and do anything except his work, really. So his dad came in twice to check on him and have a conversation about his behavior. As they say in school, “His dad don’t play.”
“I know he’s is smart,” He said one day in the cafeteria. “I was the same way. I had a full scholarship to college too–on academics, not sports. But my temper got me in trouble… I want my son to do better. I don’t want him to end up like I did.”
That stuck with me. In a school like this, there are so many parents who just don’t care and others who are just worn out. But this man was adamant about his son’s education. And poured out his pent-up hope on his future.
Shortly after that encounter, I was given the unfortunate news that he had died. I had a gut feeling that it was a violent death. The story ended up on the local news. He had been jumped by gang members and shot to death in a convenience store.
His son was out of school for 2 weeks. When he came back, he drew a teardrop on his cheek with a sharpie.
Bringing Out the God-Colors in the World 