All posts by Colette S. Coleman

 
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Finding the Belongers

Life in Tortola.


Either I’m a masochist, or I enjoy sleeping sitting up on twelve-hour trans-Pacific flights. On a visit to Tortola to ring in 2010, I realize that I have been running away from bitter, northeastern American winters to beaches on the other side of the world while warm paradise was just a short four and a half hours away.

Despite this proximity, Tortola seems like a world away. One of the small British Virgin Islands in the Caribbean Sea, it has one traffic light, chickens running around freely, and the slow island vibe I desperately crave after hustling through New York City’s rat race. Even language is spoken slower in Tortola. Who can be bothered with verbs or tenses? As I settled into the sun-and-sea lifestyle, I quickly realize I can’t.

I come to visit my cousin Branson, who is actually a belonger. “Belonger” is the word used to describe citizens of Tortola. Branson’s mom is American and his dad is British, but they happened to be living there when he was born. He is blond and blue-eyed and has spent many years living in other parts of the world, so he’s not your typical Tolan (as the locals are called).

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Two of Colette Coleman's students in Yogyakarta try to win the tallest free-standing paper tower contest using only tape and ten sheets of paper.
Yogyakarta, Indonesia
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From the Inner City to Indonesia

Best of In The Fray 2009. Teaching has its rewards, challenges everywhere.


Screams of “$@$^%&*!,” “*&$#@,” and “#$%@^$%,” sirens piercing, fire alarms sounding, reggaeton blaring, and fists banging were all common sounds in the Cheetos-littered halls of Johnnie L. Cochran Jr. Middle School in inner-city Los Angeles, California. The school houses roughly 2,000 students nearly exclusively of Latino and African American backgrounds and from extremely low-income families. It had been named Mount Vernon Middle School after George Washington’s estate that included farms worked by a few hundred African-descended slaves. But in 2006, the school changed its name in memory of its alum, the attorney who defended O.J. Simpson during his murder trial with his “If (the glove) doesn’t fit, you must acquit” catchphrase.

By then, Cochran’s debate team had long disappeared from the school, along with other extracurricular activities. Cochran the school is under-resourced and failing, primarily focusing on keeping the peace and secondarily on raising test scores and receiving funding.

When I first arrived there, I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach and palpable fear. The campus was empty, but the school’s dilapidated state, graffiti, and omnipresent gates and bars worried me. Was this a school or a juvenile detention center, I wondered. Veteran teachers referred to the students as “little terrorists,” or worse, by four-letter names. They warned me and my other fresh-faced newbie colleagues not to smile for the first six months or expect anything from the little “$#@&s” since they were, after all, terrorists. Not surprisingly, after getting such advice, I questioned my decision to join Teach For America, and I tried to get accustomed to my queasiness at Cochran.

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