Confessions: 1987 "I Can't Read?" by Sir Ervin Williams III

       When I was 5 years old, I confessed to the world, "I wanted to be Lawyer." I wanted to help people and I had the gift of gab, so I figured, "this would be easy." Well, when I realized how much reading I had to do, I became apprehensive about my decision. When I turned 7, and in the second grade, I was one of the students, who were pulled out of class to go to the "Reading Specialist” also known as, “The Resource Room.” My teachers assumed, "I couldn't read, because I didn't like reading aloud." (This was in the '80s, so we weren't as well equipped to deal with highly intelligent student's, who weren't being challenged in academia). Neither were they trying to find the adequate tools to support these students. When you’re poor and in a disenfranchised community, funding often jumped over your school systems. Our teachers, faculty, and staff were extremely frustrated with our lack of resources; however, they made us love coming to school every day. My school, Lowell Elementary had convinced my mother that I needed these courses to help move me through the educational system. My mother, wanting the best for her only son, so she agreed and allowed me to enter the courses.

Now, I’m in the “Resource Classroom” looking Mrs. Williams in her eyes. Pretending that I like being in this room, because of the candy sitting on her desk. This, “candy” was given to the students who participated willingly in the lessons provided. Mrs. Williams was a well put together older woman, who had a scarf to match every single one of her, “Business Skirt Suits.” She would drape these scarfs around her shoulders diagonally, wear big frame red glasses, and smelled of Elizabeth Taylor’s, “White Diamond”. She didn’t tolerate slacking in her classroom, and she often reminded us who was in charge, with a swat from her garden ruler or a pinch on your arm. Although this may seem cruel now, it wasn’t then. As well as Mrs. Williams didn’t use her, “Authority to whip us” often.

I sat still for about two months, with pinched arms; watching students go to sleep, some licking glue off their hands, while others moved exactly the way Mrs. Williams wanted them too. They received high praise and candy during lessons. I received bruised arms and a special seat in the corner. Here I am, alone and knowing I’m not supposed to be here. “Why do they think I can’t read?” I mean, I just won the writing competition in the school. My story and pictures were displayed in the hallways, with a badge that said “1st Place”. My principal had just celebrated me with my own private, “Ice Cream Party”, but here I am sitting with the “special ones.”

Well, I was fed up. I was tired of sitting in the corner and tired of rubbing pinched arms. The day came when Mrs. Williams decided she was going to teach me a lesson. We were reading, and when we got to the longest passage in our book, she called upon me to read aloud. She made the statement, “Ervin it’s your turn to read. I know you’re not going to do it, but it’s your turn.” Little did she know today, I was going to read and shut her condescending ass the hell up. I grabbed my book, stood up from my desk and retorted, “Where are we?” I knew exactly where we were in the book, I just wanted to hear her, “tone of disappointment” She stood up from her desk, marched over to my private Island in the corner, pointed her red fingernail in my face, then to the book. She screamed, “We’re right here! I’m tired of you, if you don’t want to read, then why are you here?” I was seething, I rolled my eyes at her, tilted my head to the side, and preceded to read. Not only did I read, but I also read well. Her eyes widen, eyebrows lifted and face twitched. She was pissed. Here I am sitting in her class for two months, refusing to read and I could, read? “So you’re smart, is what you’re telling me?” She gleamed over her big red glasses that looked like “Sally Jessy Raphael” to me. “Well I know I’m not dumb.” “Touche” She whispered as she walked away. “What the hell is Touche?” I wondered. “We’re going to have to reassess you, Mr. Williams. Hmmph?” Mrs. Williams flung her scarf around her shoulders and sat at her desk staring at me. She gave the glare of, “pleasant surprise and disappointment.”

I lowered my eyes, sunk down in my seat and looked at my desk, and thought to myself, “Got her ass!” I continued drawing characters in my workbook and watched everyone else suffer through her lesson. I was over her and them, by this time. Later that afternoon, when I got out of school I had to run errands with my mother. My mother would make me read the newspaper, “out loud” (as she stated) to her while she drove around St. Louis. This was her personal test with me. She wanted to see if what they said about her son, was indeed true? She ended our ride with, "your ass reading perfectly fine to me." However, I think the damage had been done. I convinced myself, that I wasn't a “good reader” because I was pulled out of the class from the smart children. I told myself, I can't be a Lawyer, because Lawyers have to read and apparently, "I didn't do that well."

So at the age of fifteen, I gave up on my dreams of becoming a Lawyer. You have to be, “smart” to pursue that career, right? I spent almost ten years redefining that moment and myself. I never believed, “I wasn’t smart.” I just believed, “I wasn’t smart enough.” That was the part I had to forgive within myself and I did. That period had snatched my voice, my innocence and my ability to dream past my circumstances. Every time I attempted to create, my own narrative, it was a challenge. I clawed and fought through insecurities to regain and collect all of the broken pieces of me. I succeeded! However, many of my other friends, in that same class, at the same school, did not.

Years later, the Lord blessed me to be a Certified English Teacher, 5th – 12th grade. I am a published Author, Playwright, Poet, Writer, Educator, Actor, Public Speaker, Mentor & Director. I honestly do nothing, but read and write for a living. I made a promise to myself, as an Educator, I would never do to students, what has been done to me. As a Black Boy, from the City of St. Louis, Missouri and growing up poor and destitute; there aren’t many options for you in the world. If you can’t dribble a basketball or throw a football, you better be able to do manual labor or hit the streets. The intellectual, black child, that’s a boy and growing up in the ’80s, your options were few and far in between. I’m saying all of this to say, “You can’t let anyone define who you are, you have to define yourself.” Step out of the illusion of, “who you think you’re supposed to be” and go do what you were put on this earth to do. Whatever it may be, it’s your duty to pursue your dreams.

Please understand, “unmotivated children, give unmotivated results and become unmotivated adults.” Where would I be, had I believed the narrative that was placed on me? How further would I be in life, if I didn’t spend ten years questioning my intelligence? Questioning my worth? Questioning my talents? Questioning my circumstances? We (Adults in society) have to pour into these children. We have to see the future for them when they can’t see it for themselves. We have to cultivate and nourish the “Unchallenged Intellectual Child” just as much as the “Problem Child”. We can’t afford another black child to believe they are less than, because educators are unequipped or overwhelmed. Parents are stressed and living in low economic situations, or too busy trying to provide for their families. We have to remind our children, “They are perfect in their imperfection.” “A’s” in a classroom, test scores, economic stability nor behaviors, define intelligence. If we seek change in the world, we must start with our children. They are the beautiful abundance we have been waiting for. Do not mislead them in our guidance. Do NOT devalue them in their beliefs. DO NOT hold them accountable, for our transgressions. Black Children, deserve a chance to become all of the beautiful things they’ve imagined.

Best Regards,

Sir Ervin Williams III

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This book will help you and your family counter what’s going on with your Black son. Jawanza Kunjufu breaks down the system of education as well as how it affects your child. Kunjufu, was one of the first people to make a connection between, Urban Education, Special Education and School to Prison Pipeline System.