Читать книгу Driven Class America - Cory Psy.D. Ash - Страница 4

Fall of 1998 arrived and I was in Atlanta, GA attending DeVry University for undergrad. I was studying Computer Information Systems. It was a three year program at the time the dot com bubble was inflating. The nation was witnessing the fastest creation of wealth ever seen, largely due to the use of the internet. All the people in my class were pumped. We would be done quick enough to dive into this new job market and capitalize on technology.

On the first day of class in orientation session the instructor told us, “count off 1 – 4.” And we did, each student numbering themselves 1, 2, 3, or 4. Then he said, “Look 1 out of 4 of you will finish. Some will cry, slack, quit, or simply not measure up. Which will you be?” He did not know what it took for me to get here, so obviously he was talking to the weaklings in the class.

Sitting in that classroom after going through all I had, Erica and I were expecting a son that December. I did not have myself together at the time, but I knew, just as I had on my graduation day that failure was not an option. My parents although not judgmental did not encourage abortion and would not tolerate a son, who was a derelict dad. Making a baby was irresponsible enough not actively raising him is another issue.

So I had to continue to beat the odds. I had to find a job and finish undergrad, otherwise I would be condemned to the statistics of never earning enough to provide for my new family. I worked for one semester, and then my first son was born December 14, 1998.

Now I worked Monday through Friday, went to class Monday through Friday, and drove an one ½ hour back to Columbus on the weekends to see my son. One semester passed, and then the next came and went. Finally, I was exhausted. My heart and head were in the right place but my priorities were screwed up. My marijuana habit began to bear on me.

During finals in that third semester instead of studying, I was smoking and clubbing with my friends. Like all my courses before I knew I could just cram and get it done. I thought I would "Forrest Gump" my way through it but that’s when I got shot in the butt. See I had anticipated studying, but I had overlooked completing the research paper. Fair enough I crammed then I began writing the research paper. I wrote and printed several copies until my printer ran out of ink. I though great now I have to drive 10 miles through construction zones and weekend traffic to Stone Mountain for ink.

Well, I had made the drive to Wal - ly World and found the right ink. Even so, not before I realized that I did not have my money to buy it. I made a terrible decision to steal; it was compounded when I got caught. I spent several hours in jail. I remember feeling like such a failure. I was not just a failure for getting caught, but I had now been marked by the system, finger prints, mug shot, and rap sheet, etc. We all know that young black men don’t beat wrap sheets regardless of the type of mistake. It was worse than a high interest credit card. The air was sucked out of my sails by my own hand and poor decision.

Now “the man” would have legitimate reason to be discriminate. So even if I managed to finish my degree, I could never get a good job; this would be my albatross. I hung my head in failure and shame that semester needless to say I did not pass any of my courses. I had given up and given in. I turned my focus to trying to raise my son and placed my education on simmer. I dropped out and moved back to Columbus.