Corey (DT Lesson 4)

Corey walked with his social worker through the security line, checking the back pockets of his crisp new khaki's.  He wanted to make sure he left his pocketknife at home.  He knew what folks thought of young black teenagers and didn’t need more trouble coming to him.  Anyway, his worker went over all the things he didn't need to do or say in an airport and he didn't want to disappoint her, or land in jail.  He avoided the guard’s eyes until he walked through the metal detector, only looking at the gruff looking white guard to see if the man was surprised he wasn’t packing a gun.  He was going to get on a plane today and leave his grandma behind.  She was the only one ever kept him safe from hisself and his crazy parents. He couldn't believe he was standing there in some snazzy looking green Polo shirt ready to become a new man.  He wondered could somebody just dress different and be somebody else.  Guess he'd find out, that is, if he was sure he could go through with this whole adventure he got roped into. 

His social worker had to stay behind at the other side of the security check, so she waved goodbye to him.  She saw him for what he was but no one else could.  She knew what was goin’ through his mind.  He waved back and caught himself looked back twice more before reaching his departure gate.  He was bound for Kentucky.  Job Corps.  Ms. Jackson said it was a great opportunity and it would keep him off the streets. Plus, he was a smart kid.  She actually said that.  She was right, he guessed, but still.  Smarts in Kentucky ain't gonna protect his grandma in Alabama, were they? What if some dude robbed his grandma, or worse, while he was away.  She didn’t have anyone to help her out with him gone. 

He checked himself as he walked toward the gate, trying to make sure he kept his strutting to a minimum.  Gotta diffuse folks’ fears, he’d learned a long time ago.  He walked up to an empty chair but the elderly white woman with with her oxygen tank and shifty eyes said in an  out of breathy smoker's voice  "My husband ... right back..  so sorry... dear".  He saw her eyes dart toward the newspaper stand and back to his chin, not quite able to meet his eyes.  Yeah right. No old man over there.  He knew the score. 

He jumped when a lady with a high pitched funny accent got on a microphone and announced that his plane was going to be late coming in.  Terrific.  He scanned the rows for another empty seat and saw two seats to the right of a man with some kids.  He headed that way, walking like he belonged in these sweet clothes of his.  Sht. Not again.  The little balded man on the other side of that daddy was trying to cover the empty seats with a suitcase real quick like.  Yup.  Come on people, this rediculous.

Leaning on a column in the open space between several gates, he watched the crowd.  Nothing’s gonna change, he thought. Dress all up, get an education and a job and they still gonna treat me like this. Screw this. 

He whipped around and headed back toward the security check area, not at all watching the way he walked.  He fought tears as he wondered what his grandma would say if he sauntered back in the living room and said he was too chicken to go.  He stopped and leaned against the wall between coming and going, feet jumping in his new preppy loafers his grandma spent half her grocery money on.  He just stood there, his brain wrapping around this whole life of his.  He was getting a headache and thought his blood pressure done hit the roof, as his grandma always said when he was trouble or kept her worrying too late at night when he didn't get home at curfew. 

That’s when he saw Ms. Jackson standing at the window at Baggage Claim, arms crossed and watching him.  She was looking back and forth between him and the monitors to see if his plane had left yet, he guessed.  She waived cautious like, then shrugged her shoulders and lifted her eyebrows. Hands popped out like she’s weighing two stacks of paper or something.  He looked to the right at freedom then looked back to the left at the past.  He, too, was weighing something far greater than paper. He was weighing his choices.  For the first time in his life, he was thinking before he acted.  Maybe he did have a chance in hell of making it.  A smile crossed his lips and he waved back.  He hollered out before he realized it.  “Bye Ms. Jackson.  Plane’s late but I’m goin.  You tell grandma I’m gonna be on that plane.” 

She smiled a kind of closed mouth smile but then gave him a thumbs-up.  He thought she'd leave then but no, she just stood right there and watched, wiping her face a little bit.  He thought he saw a little something shiny on her cheek.  No white woman ever cried for him, he thought.  Things was changing.  He knew it like he knew his own name.




SWPoet

Names have been changed and the situation is what I would like to have occurred not what actually occurred.  There was a real social worker and a real teenage boy who loved his grandmother and who got to the airport to leave for the job corps.  Sadly, he chose not to get on the plane.  This  story is ... an alternate universe where choices can be tried out to see where they might have led.  I wish I could day it was a happy ending.  But he is alive and in another year, he will be free to make choices of his own again, out in the free world.

If this moves you, please check the video out at the link below.  I wish I could say this story was all true.  I think it was his intention to be good, to do better maybe, but reality is sometimes quite different.  With every choice in the wrong direction, the quality of the next few choices decrease.  (but it works in both direction, thank goodness).  Check this out:
http://www.ted.com/talks/bryan_stevenson_we_need_to_talk_about_an_injustice.html...