Safety in Cities

This morning I was greeted by the news that it could rain today (although it had been earlier predicted to be a "sunny" day) and the first reports of the London bombings. Sad, I was; a little weary of riding the crosstown bus to East Harlem this morning, yes, I was that too (No, not because of the rain). Before I was forced to leave, I was reading the latest briefs, but I was apalled at some of the United States' reaction. OK, just one comment, really: something along the lines of "The reason London was a target is because the US has done such a fabulous job of homeland security." Malarky. I know there are plenty of illegal aliens who've recently crossed the Mexican border. I came back into New York through Canada two months ago, and nobody checked my passport or looked in the back of my truck. I was upset that someone here would use this incident overseas to create a false sense of America's security. But, I had to leave my analyzation of politics and media to go learn how to create a physically and emotionally safe learning environment.

Once upon the M96 heading into Central Park, I was greeted by four college Harlem RBI interns. They joked about their jobs and were annoyed and in disbelief when the police stopped the bus outside of Central Park. An officer boarded, walked through and then got off. "What good will that do?" they quipped. I wanted to talk to them about this, but I understood we were on a different plane and my comments would seem like a lecture. Luckily by the time I made it to training with the other teachers, we were ready to discuss the issues. Here there was no joking of the jobs. We were intent on discussing who did this, why they did and what this means. We teachers understood the gravity of the situation, the symbolism that this means as far as security in ALL major cities. Was it our age that made us more concerned? Was it the fact that we're all teachers and understand how small cracks (not to trivialize 37 deaths) mean bigger systemic problems? Either way, this was not something to be brushed off (in our opinions).

Training soon got underway, and my day ended with an all-staff softball game and pizza party. As I stood out on Harlem RBI's Field of Dreams, I began to truly realize the need and the beauty of the program. From the field, you could look up at the immediate buildings and know you were in the ghetto. Just beyond the immediate horizon, the signs of gentrification loomed. But right underneath me lay the greenest grass I've seen since I played in fields as a child. The benches are still perfectly flat and without warps. The fence is a bold painted black. The infield is kept raked and watered. This is what every inner-city child needs. A place to play. A place where they feel valued. A place where their parents can look out their window and know they're OK. A safe place within a city. Where things like racial divides, terrorists flashing signs and handguns and terrorists with bombs on buses are forgotten in the freshness of recently cut grass, laughter and cheering.