GRIND

In the B@Work Studio in Westport CT

GRIND \`grind \  1. to give relentless immediate nutrition to your dream.

There's a half-moon circle, where cars line up and it extends, snaking on a two-way street.  Parents, nannies, and Uber drivers patiently wait their turn to get to the front entrance of the elementary school.  Slowly, one by one, cars pull up, doors open, and flying outcomes a kid, as if they were shot from a cannon, filled with unbounded energy eager to get into school.  

Somewhere along the line that zest and thirst knowledge evaporates in some children, you can see the brightness in their eyes dim.  I can look at my JHS school pictures and know exactly when my lights dimmed.   I felt the suffocating feeling of anger, shame, guilt, confusion, and what's more, there was no one to share those feelings with.  I was afraid to tell my parents what happened, because I thought they’d blame or wouldn't believe me. 

Internally I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t find the words to explain what I was experiencing, so I turned inward and kept the incident to myself.  I started doing just enough to get by I had thoughts of giving up altogether; I'd eventually drop out high school and considered getting my GED.  I thought I had it all figured out but that it wasn’t the best plan, so I return to high school.  

Mrs. Lewis didn't make the road back easy for me either-she was my guidance counselor; once she saw I was committed, she pulled a few strings with Mic and got me a job.  Mic aka Mr. Frank Mickens was the principal of Boy’s & Girls HS; we’d work side by side, he took me under his wing.  Mickens was a strong no-nonsense educated black man in a trench coat, who chomped on a cigar like Columbo and just like that the fire within me was rekindled.  

Up until that point in my life I’d never witness a black man speak truth to power, so forcefully and unapologetically.  “If you’d get me those damn metal detectors, I wouldn’t have search the kids before they entered my school.”  Those were the words I heard as I entered his office for my afternoon assignment, as I turned around to walk out he said stay-so I stayed.  Mic said: “If this was Midwood I’d have the metal detectors already.”  Midwood was a predominantly white neighborhood in Brooklyn. Mic was my mentor, a father figure, he was my real life Joe Clark. I remember what BGHS was like before I started working there because it was my alma mater. Working in such close proximity to this giant of a man, I had a front row seat to the greatest documentary on earth. Each day was an adventure, a new scene, he colored outside of the lines, Mickens poured his heart and soul into the students and he poured into my life everyday. I got to witness a strong compassionate fearless leader, who showed up everyday to conquer the day. Mic patrolled the perimeter of the building with a hammer in his hand during the height of the crack epidemic, I held his books and trailed behind like a walking sponge absorbing every lesson.

Mickens charged me with the responsibility designing the bulletin boards in the entire school, he understood the power of recognition and the power of pictures to motivate and instill a sense of pride in impressionable minds. BGHS was instagram before IG. “Student of The Month” “Most Improved Student of The Month” were a few of the categories transform BGHS. Watching Mr Frank Mickens GRIND, instilled a sense of confidence the belief that anything was possible; he taught me to never settle for the status quo. Mic helped to shape me into the man I am today, because of his example I had the confidence to launch BTW Podcast & RUNUTAINMENT Magazine