An Erudite Epistolary

Dearest Beloveds,

I am beginning an entirely new blog... but I will not abandon this one. It is appropriate since I feel like the past year I've survived a baptism of fire and I am embarking on the rest of my journey fully changed. It is a new beginning because my life has change tremendously in the past year, and knowing the scorpion metaphor that I fully employ in this blog... transformational growth is pain, but resiliency is the major benefit. Take hold because the journey has not been easy, but at last I am finding respite in the cathartic method of writing.

 

The new blog is an extension of The Perpetual Erudite, which I founded to explore intellectual catharsis, expressive transformation and utilize at random moments of muse.
Erudite Epistolary is a blog solely for the purpose of emotional catharsis. After yet another difficult year (of professional and academic stressors) tragedy struck in a most unimaginable way. My world shattered upon the death of my Grandmother, My Queen.

It is difficult to articulate the tremendous grief and loss I have experienced this year alone. But with this platform, I am doing what I do best, I am expressing my emotions through writing. Like all things in life, my feelings and response to losing both of my grandmothers in a short period of time, is a transformative and ongoing experience. This blog, albeit 7 months after burying them both, will cover the emotional journey, spiritual discovery and cathartic process that is rendered from tragedy.


The past year was tough for my entire family because we lost 3 matriarchs; both of my grandmothers and one grandmother in law. Being from an extensive Trinidadian family, I must explain that despite having relatives spread across the globe, the way in which we were brought up is close knit spanning several generations. So my parents and their siblings and respective spouses are finding this grief compounded in triplicate.

In the years prior to this I watched my dad and his siblings suffer through anticipatory grief that wore down to the last bitter days of Mama's life. A fierce woman, who was once a beacon of faith, elegance and strength slowly eroded in front of her children until she finally gave into the light that took her husband a few years earlier. My uncle also lost his mother in law under a similar conditions, witnessing the deterioration of yet another beloved woman. The only solace I found from attending my first ever funeral was through my faith and family. Mama had a beautiful Catholic service (actually several) which brought me tremendous peace and acceptance of her passing. I was able to spend time in Trinidad with family in the days after her funeral, something that I didn't realize would aid in the healing process.

Soon after we laid Mama to rest, we were devastated to relive the process with Nanny, my maternal grandmother. It was absolutely unexpected, and while I will not go into the details of her physical passing, I will say that her exquisite life impacted mine beyond what I could ever express and that will remain the focus of this blog.

I adored and worshiped my maternal grandmother, My Queen as I lovingly referred to her.
Words cannot express how deeply pained I am at the loss of both women weeks of each other, but Nanny's death wounded me so deeply that I am unable to grieve in a healthy way or sometimes even comprehend that she is actually gone. I feel like a piece of me died with her. I do not think I could ever begin to articulate how truly devastated I am because to me I did not lose my grandmother but I lost my mother. She raised me, she loved me and she taught me to become a person who will not fear a life without her. The cruel irony of the universe was that her funeral was held this year on Mother's Day.

But within this fog of sadness, I have unearthed a wonderful gift. I feel tremendous gratitude for having her for 30 incredible years. I feel lost and a lack of closure from a chaotic and traumatic sendoff (more in another blog post), but mostly I feel like I can survive this fog of sadness because the faith I have in seeing Nanny again is as strong as the love will always have for her and as strong as the woman she taught me to be.

The difference between PE and EE is that the latter's upcoming posts will mostly be written in an Epistolary style, which literary buffs will know is the letter format. I realize they will be rhetorical and conversational in structure, but I am speaking to my grandmother in the commentary as if she were with me. In my mind and my heart she is listening, but for me to extract these feelings in such a format is healing.
I hope you read along and enjoy my posts.

Blessings Amidst Frustration: An Educator's Anecdote

Sometimes we forget why God has led us on our respective journeys, and we can find ourselves lamenting on our decisions, our struggles and doubting the path before us. But I have learned that there are messages in the mundane, everyday moments. There are instances were we overlook the gratitude for the simple things that serve as reminders as to what set us on the path un the first pace.
This was a BIG reminder, had to share... ‪#‎anecdote‬ ‪#‎student‬ ‪#‎teachers‬‪#‎blessings‬ ‪#‎college‬

...4 weeks into the semester, 10 mins into class, a man walked in and handed one of my students a stack of textbooks. I never saw that man before, he came in discreetly & respectfully, then left while I continued my lecture. Student guests are not permitted, but I figured he was from the bookstore or something.

This kid is a typical DC student, tattoos on his face, needs quite a bit of scaffolding to be able to function on the college level, one who matriculated trough the flawed urban school system. Now he is in a remedial course I teach and he is interning on a political campaign this semester.  This student is quite articulate, soft spoken and engaged in learning. It often bothers me at how easy it could be for someone not accustomed to working with young black students to stereotype this young man based on his outward appearance. He sits at the front, furiously taking notes and asking questions, aways on time and chats with me after class... (the next class is always waiting for us to finish because all my students want to stay back and talk about the reading/lesson etc!)

After that class the student came up to me so he could apologize for the interruption.  He explained that was his former high school Principal who just bought all the books for him since he could not afford to but textbooks this semester. The school staff, teachers and Principal made a collection and purchased his books. He said they told him to come to them if he ever needed anything, because they are determined to see him through college completion. Could you imagine, a family of faculty, admin and staff in a struggling urban school gathering funds for this student, and probably more like him who cannot afford the basic things that most college kids take for granted. 

while we talked I told him to write (not email) a thank you note and he said "thanks for that idea, a written thank you card is so classy just like you!!" I KNOW awww :')

In our profession, particularly in the data driven, standardized testing culture of late... it is easy to forget that educators do so much more for kids than 'teach.' We serve as mentors, examples, motivators, counselors, leaders and most importantly family. I could go through various times where I was astounded by the circumstances, experiences and stories of my urban students. It is partially a miracle that they make it out of the city, nevertheless to college. 

When I was an urban HS teacher I always kept snacks, cup of noodles, power bars because I knew some kids could not buy the 35 cent lunch, and were probably going home to no food either. I would listen to students talk about their lives (death, violence, poverty), and dealing with things the average American has not been through by luck or fate or zip code. Sure there are countless diamonds that need polishing, but urban kids are the rocks than never make it out of the mine. 

I've never had a school system fail me, never witnessed my friends get shot, never buried a child or teenager, never witnessed the myriad of violence and dysfunction that causes so many kids to get lost in the system, die in the street, or not be able matriculate to college. I never was a teen statistic, never needed help with retention, remediation, financial aid or any of the resources students of this demographic need. 

Being an educator is not enough for these kids. It is not enough that they just 'make it to college.'
This is one young man out of thousands in this city, this year, this semester, who has made it to University, yet still has obstacles in his path to success and would probably have many more in his way. Retention would be a miracle. I truly pray that he, my former students and the countless like him current in this system not only graduate but become flourishing citizens. 

Despite my frustration with this Doctorate, I am constantly reminded that it will be worth all the tears, struggles, expense, sacrifices etc. I am truly grateful for my team (supportive family and friends) and for moments like the one I described that keep me grounded and push me through to the next phase of success. 

Thanks for reading!!!