If not duty then investment

I imagine when I turn on my television later this morning, all the political pundits will be talking about the use of Ted Kennedy and of Michelle Obama's delivery at the Democratic Convention opening last night. Other than that irking mic takeover by the younger Obama daughter I thought Michelle did just fine - as we would expect from any professional communicator who no doubt had been coached and prodded within an inch of her life.

It was during her appearance as guest co-host on The View a few months ago that I first learned that her brother is Craig Robinson, coach of the Oregon State basketball team. Their mother must be proud. As the camera's kept panning to her last night, I couldn't imagine the emotions that must be threatening to overwhelm her as she watched her son and daughter play a role in history. I hope one of those emotions was pride. She deserves to be proud of her accomplishments as an example, mentor and driving force behind her children's success. She and her late husband - who worked even as he battled multiple sclerosis - no doubt made many sacrifices to send two children to Princeton.

Almost a lifetime ago I taught English Language and English Literature at an all-boys high school in Jamaica. I remember being stunned, then puzzled, then angered by the lack of parental involvement and support in the boys' education. Parents who had the means - and some who didn't - provided the latest hot shoe for their sons, but forgot to buy textbooks. PTA meetings were always scant and I didn't have one parent call or come to see me to discuss their child's progress. I would send notes home and never get a response. One student was suspended, served his suspension and returned to school with no appearance from a parent. (Needless to say I continued to have problems with that particular student.) My experiences were similar at my son's school. In a fairly large K-8 school (filled with affluent families and stay-at-home moms), PTA meetings could be held in a small corner of the media center because of the low turnout.

As parents we owe our children the best education we can provide, for as long as we can provide it and for as long as they want it. Our participation and an attitude of expectation is required in providing that quality education. Children should know that their parents and their village expect success from them. Our children's teachers should know it as well. We have to be partners in our children's education, particularly if we live in communities with financially strapped school districts, underperforming schools and burned out teachers. Our children's teachers should know who we are and should be in regular contact to plot our children's success. At home we should be looking over homework - even if we don't understand it - and providing the tools they need to perform at their best.

What are your priorities? A nicer car or tutoring for your child who is weak in math? Vacations or saving for college? Getting your child evaluated when you sense a problem or your desire that he seem normal? Our priorities must be our children to ensure their success.

I muse often about what my boys will be when they grow up. The older of my sons is an incessant talker so my husband and I joke that he most certainly will be a lawyer or politician. My younger son is a bit rebellious. We expect he will start his own band or cure cancer. Whatever we expect, we accept that it is our duty as their parents to give them everything they need to become successful adults. We are committed to sending them to the best schools we can, without regard to racial majority, religious affiliation or budget source. We buy them books, supplement their learning at home and expose them to as many cultural experiences and career possibilities as we can. At the moments when we cringe at the cost of something (like tuition for the school they will attend this fall), we remind ourselves that the better we educate them the nicer our nursing home will be.

Are we doing our part?

I remember reading a newspaper article some time ago. The article was a discussion of a phenomenon that West Indians have long noticed and give varied reasons for: children from the West Indies or of West Indian parentage often do better academically than American children. The line in the piece that sticks with me though, is a quote from a Jamaican parent who said "wi nuh come fi milk nuh cow, wi come fi drink di milk" in response to a question about West Indians' political inactivity in the school district.

The statement rings true I think for many of the West Indian Diaspora. For us, there is a disconnect between the place we work and pay mortgage, and the place we call home. "So when yu going home?" No one ever thinks that's a question about what time they're leaving work. Home for us conjures up pictures of Sangsters International Airport or the Harborview roundabout. We pore over paper and online versions of the Gleaner and the Observer and hope beyond hope that things get better before it's time for us to retire to Mandeville.

Since the early days of migration, people of the Caribbean have come ashore in the United States (and I suppose England) with one eye always turned towards home. We come, not for a better life here, but to be able to build a better life back home. Out patriotism never wanes. More Jamaicans know who Usain Bolt and Asafa Powell are than those who know Tyson Gaye or Allyson Felix.

I think that's fine; there is nothing wrong with identifying yourself as child of the rock. I think there is a problem with seeking to reap when we are not willing to affect our communities in a positive way. Try as you might, it's impossible not to leave an imprint, so what kind of imprint will it be?

Our disconnect from our adopted home is due in no small part to our inability to understand our neighbors. That misunderstanding often results in judgments that cause us to be viewed as arrogant. We don't understand why Black Americans still gripe about slavery. Many of us don't agree with affirmative action. We work hard, support our families. As my sons say, "we get what we get, and we don't get upset." Our experiences, our frame of reference is different. The fight is not ours, so we don't get involved.

One truth is that we owe it to ourselves to do our fair share of milking. After all, the milk has never been free. Another truth is that many of us will never make it home for more than a week of vacation. This will be our home. It will definitely be our children's. We need to do more than take up space. We shouldn't be living in predominantly West Indian neighborhoods where the political leadership is unaware of our unique concerns and frustrations. Our children shouldn't be filling the hallways of schools that don't teach West Indian Literature or talk about Henry Christophe at least during Black History Month.

Who is your commissioner? Who is your mayor? Who is your state representative? What budget challenges is your municipality facing? What problems are plaguing your town? Who have you told? Who have you written? Do you attend town hall meetings? Have you campaigned for a candidate you know will represent you? Those who are citizens, have you registered to vote?

I applaud my friend (I hope it's truthful to call him that) Marlon Hill who has been a strong voice on many topics that affect the South Florida community. He has been an outspoken and active supporter for presidential hopeful Barack Obama and the Democratic Party. Through his work with the Caribbean Bar Association, the Miami Light Project and other organizations he also serves the underserved. He is also fiercely patriotic towards his island home of Jamaica. One thing does not negate the other.

Even if you're sure that you will take your milk and go back to your little piece of the rock one day, still go on milking the cow for your fair share. You must, as my father says "water where you are fed."

Guess who's blogging

I truly believe that each of us has a story, an idea, a theory, a thought worth sharing with the world. I agree with Benjamin Franklin's advice "if you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten, either write things worth reading or do things worth the writing." Here's to Mr. Franklin. I hope here will be a place where people of various cultures, backgrounds, beliefs and opinions can tell me they disagree with my musings.

This will not be a political blog, though I may proffer some position on Obama, Biden or the local school district. Though I am indeed a wife and mother, this will not be a place to seek advice on mothering, coupon clipping or lifting stains from silk ties. (I think club soda works.) Communications is my choice of profession, but the field is filled with loquacious men and women who fill the internet with articles about best practices and case studies. I wont throw my hat into that ring. Instead, A Piece of My Mind will represent my entire frame of reference - 30-something professional woman; wife and mother; West Indian; far-flung from my conservative, christian upbringing.

I hope to share with others whose experiences make them as conflicted as I find myself sometimes. I promise not to be garrulous, but may not be riveting to all people all the time. Come back. Come often. Let's share.