I knew at a young age in my city of Chicago that more bad things were happening than good, especially for me, an African American growing up in the '60s and '70s, living on the South Side. Given that, our teachers should have been our role models. Yet when held after class one day, my teacher told me, "To set you on the right path, I want you to strive to be . . . a custodian." I jumped up and said, "I don't want to be no janitor." He said, "Now, now, you're a 'N' and there's not a lot of opportunities for 'N's."
I ran to the Stump, the crumbling steps of an apartment building where I knew Mrs. Hannaberry would be, and I told her what my teacher had said. She hugged me and responded, "You are better than this, and you are going to do better. Let no one tell you different. The first thing you must do is believe in yourself. Do you believe?"
The Stump prepared me for my life-long journey. It shaped me to see a brighter future, realize I had a future. It all started at the Stump-my way out.
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