WYPR News in Maryland
(2009-11-02)
Growing Up Baltimore-Overview
"They try to discourage me, because they be like, Michelle, you know, you're doing so good. You know, you're always getting 90s. You're just trying to be a teacher's pet.' Or, Oh, you think you're better than everyone else because you get good grades.' But I just want everyone to know that I work as hard as everybody else and everything that I have today, I did on my own. Nobody handed it to me, nobody helped me out. I did it because I wanted to and I was striving for it "
But not every kid is an exception. Not every one of them finds a way to push past the barriers. They face brutal headwinds: Statistics tell the tale:
Nearly a third of Baltimore's children live in poverty;
Estimates vary, but some put the city's high school graduation rate at between 34 and 29 percent. That's among the worst of any major city.
Last year, Baltimore police recorded more than 63-hundred juvenile arrests.
And in 2007, homicide was the leading cause of death for those aged 15 to 34.
Most young people in the city are not defined by these numbers - but too often we think they are, which creates yet another hurdle: stereotyping.
"We're all placed in one category, no matter how different we may act."
Rashard Epps is a senior at Heritage High School.
"Because we're black, we're all placed in this category that we're reckless and dangerous and we're not going anywhere. It just basically puts a whole halt on anything that you're trying to do for the future."
In the city's segregated past, young people were often shielded from discrimination by their parents and teachers. It's not possible to do the same with violence.
"Every day, I have a panicky feeling that something bad's going to happen."
Ginger Williams is caring for her teenage grandson.
"It's a scary, scary world out there. I say, Don't be coming home 10 minutes late from school because I'm ready to call 9-1-1. You don't have to deliberately put yourself in harm's way. That's the difference. And I don't know whether he has this nonchalance about, Well, if it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen.' I don't know."
The violence is not simply physical.
Kim Armstrong, whose 15-year-old son was murdered five years ago, says violent acts ripple through the community.
"Two hundred-plus murders-a-year, consecutively. Can you just imagine how many hurt people that is? How many hurt families, mothers, fathers, uncles, brothers, sisters, cousins?"
She says the pain spreads.
"When you look at our community, you see more people on heroin, crack cocaine, alcohol...Hurt people continue to hurt people. When you suppress pain, how can you feel somebody else's pain?"
"Because so many people around you are being shot, the grief of having that happen to you constantly, you need to prevent that."
Dr. Jacqueline Duval-Harvey is Baltimore's deputy Health Commissioner:
"...Particularly if the violence continues in your home, if it happens in your neighborhood, you're seeing it on television. At a certain point, your ability to say, You know what? That's a person. That's a human being, like me.' That, I think, doesn't come into play anymore. And, so, it becomes very easy for me to shoot you, or hurt you in some way. Or even rob you."
Baltimore City State's Attorney Patricia Jessamy spoke recently at a forum on youth violence at Coppin State University.
"I truly believe that our community is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. And if we don't address these needs, we'll have more violence, as it's played out as a result of the trauma that these young people have experienced."
Among the reasons for this violence and pain, family breakdowns are usually near the top of the list. Dr. Ray Winbush, the director of the Urban Studies Center at Morgan State University, says many families have been profoundly disabled by the crack epidemic.
"The parents of the crack generation, beginning in '81, are in their late 20s. And they are the first generation of African-Americans growing up experiencing a no-parent family or either a one-parent family. And we can see that in many of their children."
Committed men and women in social service agencies are helping these children. These professionals are put off only by lack of resources and the scope of the problems they confront.
Angela Conyers-Johnese is the juvenile justice director of the non-profit Advocates for Children and Youth. She says the city and state social service network must act more quickly.
"The system is broken. By the time you get to the Department of Juvenile Services, other systems have failed young people and families. And, so, that's one of the last opportunities to assess where there can be services put in place."
In a recent Health Department report on youth violence, Mayor Sheila Dixon agreed. It's extremely important, she said, to connect the service dots as early as possible to prevent the worst possible outcomes.
Assistant Baltimore City State's Attorney Janet Hankin prosecutes juvenile offenders.
"We, as a city, don't have the commitment of resources or the political will to put what's necessary into children "
Nor is there a place for them in the world of work. Often their preparation is poor. They haven't finished school. And in a down economy, explains Tony Wilson, a youth coordinator at the Rose Street Center, it's even rougher.
"If the economy don't change, if resources don't come by, it's sad to say, but a lot of em gonna be incarcerated for just trying to feed their families."
The city schools CEO Dr. Andres Alonzo says about 2,000 kids who are now enrolled in school have had some involvement with the criminal justice system.
Many of these kids drop out of school and they admit it was a big mistake. For them - mostly black and poor and under-educated - second chances are anything but guaranteed. That doesn't mean they've given up.
Take 17-year-old Leon Cooper. He dropped out of school and he can't find a job.
"I fill out applications, call 'em. But everywhere I fill out applications at, they're hiring. But they don't hire me."
But maybe he's found a lifeline. Alexis Nemers, a teacher at the Chesapeake Center for Youth Development, is helping him study for his G.E.D. Leon's not required to show up. There's no court order. But he's there every day. He knows he must be, if he's to have any hope of finding a job. The key for him may be Ms. Nemers, a person he trusts, a person who hasn't let him down. Many people we talked to said that kind of relationship is critical.
Most of the young people we talked are like Leon, determined to live honorably in a society that doesn't always honor them.
I'm Fraser Smith, reporting in Baltimore, for 88.1, WYPR © Copyright 2009, wypr
