My path down Educator’s Avenue has afforded me the opportunity to interact with a large number of male students, more I think think than their female counterparts. Many things have struck me about quite a few of those males.
While some were academically aware and purposed, and would spare no opportunity to get good grades, aim for higher learning, others simply seemed to have no real interest in the system of which they were a part and to which they were attached for a good number of years. Others manged to scrape through , performed admirably in sports, performing and visual arts yet seemed to seriously detest school, would go at lengths to disregard rules or were downright obnoxious to authority. Strange enough the very males when tackled one-on-one, displayed a much different attitude. I cherish the moments I had interacting with so many of those young men, even when we butted heads. What I learned was that many of them carried around huge loads of “Daddy Issues,” “Rejection,” “Feelings of inadequacy,” among other bits of baggage. Often, their issues were cloaked in the anger and frustration they displayed, poor performance, excellence or dexterity in their extra-curricula activities. I was careful to remember to treat them with dignity and respect they deserved as humans.
It is also not co-incidental that I have ten brothers each with his own distinct personality. Additionally, I am aunt to mostly nephews, the mother of two sons, wife and daughter to a dad who was beset by a range of issues, before he took his own life twenty-four years ago. Perhaps being surrounded by so many males impacted my affinity to my male students. I am not certain, but what I am clear about is that I always think about what can be done about the male, why they go down dark paths, remain trapped within themselves, fall away into those huge jagged cracks of society, live on the edge, become marginalised, alcoholics, beggars, homeless, perverts, abusers among other negatives.
I see those who stand tall as role-models, who are humane, Godly, caring and productive. But, but the rest, the “dregs of society,” my heart bleeds for them.
I am always so amazed at the large number of men who make up the homeless and vagrants among us. Why? Where are their families, what has become of their zeal and drive for wholesome living? And the alcoholics and, or, abusers, illiterates? Where did the screw loosen and was never tightened? What was their childhood like, their days as students, if indeed they had that opportunity?
A myriad of unanswered questions keep tumbling from my mind, remain huddled within my core. There’s an inward pain, even now, especially now in 2021 for my students who now appear easy target, as prime prey for becoming lost.
I cherish the main men in my life; my two Princes, my spouse. I hope for my brothers, nephews, my male students. May they be snatched from the abyss that threatens their sensibility.
I still hope for the men out there. Those lost, tired, savage, hurt, angry, sick, alone, mean men. May their graves turn into gardens and their vibes be peaceful. They are Humans!
Garden Conversations with Roze 