I remember what I want to be when I grow up

I just finished watching reruns of A Different World. In one episode, grown-up, flip-glassess-less, professor Dwayne Wayne mentors two court ordered youth participating in a five-day diversion program. Most of the show centered around Dwayne's efforts to talk these two young males off the ledge of hopelessness. In their exchanges, the youth spewed some unfortunately common commentary, reflecting die-for-my-hood and kill-you-dead-with-no-remorse mentalities. In Dwayne's presentation, however, there was a sense of compassion that made it feel as if this wasn't just his on-screen role. I was drawn in by the authenticity of his acting because I felt like he was truly affected by the fact that life had hardened the innocence of these young boys, asphyxiating their capacities to dream, making them believe that there was nothing to live for, and everything worth dying for. This scene took me back for several reasons: 1) the two boys happened to be Kriss Kross from my childhood, pants-backwards, "Jump-Jump" days and 2) they reminded me of the teens who brought me here. I felt myself in Dwayne's character, like it was my responsibility to make a difference; from Dwayne Wayne, I felt strongly that he was committed to making his message live beyond the tv screen. The scene transported me back to my days working in the high school, running groups with members of gangs and having heart-to-hearts with youth who'd been exposed to various dimensions of trauma and pain. I remembered that a commitment to healing was important to me. I remembered the young faces that often flooded with tears when finally trusting in our relationship and seeing our exchanges as opportunities to release. In my job, there were many barriers, just like when Dwayne and Whitley showed up at the home of one of the youth to try and partner with the parent; they were met with vigilant resistance, and had a first-hand encounter with what appeared to reflect part of the source of a social transmission of rage and pain. As the father of the youth reached into his shirt, insinuating that he was making an effort to reach for a gun and ward off the intrusion of these "outsiders", I was reminded of why I want my work to be meaningful to the parent-adolescent dyad, to support efforts to uncover keys to understanding and promoting healing in this pair, and to strengthen the capacity of the Black family to serve as a resource for African-American teens. I was cognizant of my position on the couch watching all of this unfold on the screen. At this time of the year, I'm in an interesting position. With Comprehensive Exams and Dissertation proposal looming, there's much to do academically. I checked my bills lately, and there's much to do financially also. The balance of this student position and the reality of the importance of the "work" makes it so that sometimes I need to really figure out how to use my energy. Watching today's episode sparks my drive for being on the front lines, but also encourages me to push through this program to get the opportunity to make a difference through research and community development. As I begin work on my proposal, today's tv watching definitely helped me think through some of my ideas, but challenged me to think about my commitment. Last year in one of my classes I created the possibility of ensuring that all adolescents have an adult to turn to for guidance, structure, safety, to be heard, and to experience love. How is who I am and what I do each day truly a reflection of my possibility? If it's not, what do I do right now to begin living into who I am?