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Mr. Washington
One day in 11th grade, I
went into a classroom to wait for a friend of mine. When I went into the
room, the teacher, Mr. Washington, suddenly appeared and asked me to go
to the board to write something, to work something out.
I told him that I couldn’t do it. And he said, “Why not?”
I said, “Because I’m not
one of your students.”
He said, “It doesn’t matter.
Go to the board anyhow.”
I said, “I can’t do that.”
He said, “Why not?”
And I paused because I was
somewhat embarrassed. I said, “Because I’m Educable Mentally
Retarded.”
He came from behind his
desk and he looked at me and he said, “Don’t ever say
that again. Someone’s opinion of you does not have to
become your reality.”
It was a very liberating
moment for me. On one hand, I was humiliated because
the other students laughed at me. They knew that I was
in Special Education. But on the other hand, I was liberated
because he began to bring to my attention that I did
not have to live within the context of what another person’s view of me
was.
And so Mr. Washington became
my mentor. Prior to this
experience, I had failed twice in school. I was identified
as
Educable Mentally Retarded in the fifth grade, was put
back from the fifth grade into the fourth grade, and
failed again, when I was in the eighth grade. So this
person made a dramatic difference in my life.
I always say that he operates
in the consciousness of
Goethe, who said, “Look at a man the way that he is, he
only becomes worse. But look at him as if he were what
he could be, and then he becomes what he should be.” Like Calvin Lloyd,
Mr. Washington believed that “Nobody rises to low expectations.” This
man always gave students the feeling that he had high expectations for
them and we strove, all of the students strove, to live up to what those
expectations were. One day, when I was still a junior, I heard him giving
a
speech to some graduating seniors. He said to them, “You
have greatness within you. You have something special. If just one of
you can get a glimpse of a larger vision of yourself, of who you really
are, of what it is you bring to the planet, of your specialness, then in
a historical context, the world will never e the same again. You can make
your parents proud. You can make your school proud. You can make your community
proud. You can touch millions of people’s lives.” He was talking
to the seniors, but it seemed like that speech was for me.
I remember when they gave
him a standing ovation.
Afterwards, I caught up to him in the parking lot and
I said,
“Mr. Washington, do you remember me? I was in the auditorium
when you were talking to the seniors.”
He said, “What were you
doing there? You are a junior.”
I said, “I know. But that
speech you were giving, I heard
your voice coming through the auditorium doors. That speech
was for me, Sir. You said they had greatness within them. I was in that
auditorium. Is there greatness within me, Sir?”
He said, “Yes, Mr. Brown.”
“But what about the fact
that I failed English and math and history, and I’m going to have to go
to summer school. What about that, Sir? I’m slower than most kids. I’m
not as smart as my brother or my sister who’s going to the University of
Miami.”
“It doesn’t matter. It just
means that you have to work
harder. Your grades don’t determine who you are or what
you can produce in your life.”
“I want to buy my mother
a home.”
“It’s possible, Mr. Brown.
You can do that.” And he turned to walk away again.
“Mr. Washington?”
“What do you want now?”
“Uh, I’m the one, Sir. You
remember me, remember my name. One day you’re gonna hear it. I’m gonna
make you proud. I’m the ne, Sir.”
School was a real struggle
for me. I was passed from one grade to another because I was not
a bad kid. I was a nice kid; I was a fun kid. I made people laugh. I was
polite. I was
respectful. So teachers would pass me on, which was not
helpful to me. But Mr. Washington made demands on me. He made me accountable.
But he enabled me to believe that I could handle it, that I could do it.
He became my instructor
my senior year, even though I was Special Education. Normally, Special
Ed students don’t take Speech and Drama, but they made special provisions
for me to be with him. The principal realized the kind of bonding that
had taken place and the impact that he’d made on me because I had begun
to do well academically. For the first time in my life I made the honor
roll. I wanted to travel on a trip with the drama department and you had
to be on the honor roll in order to make the trip out of town. That was
a miracle for me!
Mr. Washington restructured
my own picture of who I am. He gave me a larger vision of myself, beyond
my mental conditioning and my circumstances.
Years later, I produced
five specials that appeared on
public television. I had some friends call him when my
program, “You Deserve,” was on the educational television channel in
Miami. I was sitting by the phone waiting when he called me in Detroit.
He said,
“May I speak to Mr. Brown, please?”
“Who’s calling?”
“You know who’s calling.”
“Oh, Mr. Washington, it’s
you.”
“You were the one, weren’t
you?”
“Yes, Sir, I was.”
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