| From Jane and Finch to Ivy League
Andre Wilkins knows life at the intersection of Jane and Finch in northwest Toronto. He's heard the gunfire. He knows what it means to live in a place divided, where venturing to the "wrong" housing complex or crossing the street can earn you a beat down or worse. He's even been caught up in the ripple effect of crime and suspicion and been questioned by police for nothing more than being young, male and black. But later this summer, Andre Wilkins will be leaving that behind, at least for now. The 6-foot-5 20-year-old will be enrolling at one of the most prestigious schools in North America as an eagerly anticipated addition to the basketball program at Cornell University. His plan is to earn a degree in developmental sociology, embark on a career in teaching or social work and come right back home to help others find their path.
I don't blame the (middle-class) parents
Is it all the fault of the middle classes? I ask because some of the language used in the debate over disadvantaged kids has a faintly accusatory tone to it (Yes, guilty). Or perhaps the term "middle-class" has been used for so long as a term of abuse that it is impossible to read it any more without hearing the echo of a sneer. The middle classes read to their children. They teach them to count. They tell them about shapes and colours and the world. I don’t think anybody is complaining about that, yet. But they also use public services – health visitors, doctors, Sure Start children’s centres – and if you listen to public sector workers for more than a few minutes, you will hear protests about that. A mother’s likelihood of seeing a health visitor after giving birth actually decreases with her income; the people who most need help are those most likely to be left behind.
He vows not to repeat dad's mistake
When George Johnson Sr. visits his children's school for career day, he asks the kids how many live with their fathers. Only a few hands go up. Probing further, he finds out that many girls look forward to becoming mothers, but typically few expect to get married. "My mother told me these men aren't no good," one girl told him. That's when Johnson explains earnestly that his job is to combat the mindset that fathers are optional. He works for Eagle Wings, a drug and alcohol intervention and prevention program aimed at fathers. Johnson, a 52-year-old single dad, strives to exemplify what he preaches. He remembers the awkwardness after his divorce, when he got custody of his two youngest children in 1999. He soon learned son George didn't like beans or eggs and had to come up with some passable meals "so we could eat as a family." He taught himself to do Shamyra's hair, curling three braids on top of her head into his favorite style which he calls "the flower." "While you're raising a child, you're not only a teacher, you're also a student," he reflected.
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