2 The Compass Tuesday, March 29. 1994
m
PhoUu bf Jamie Jordan
Ray Epps, Sc^homore
Garysburg, N.C.
We shouldnt need it because you should already
have a foreign language from high school. It should
be youf choice to lake tt.
Aitttiony Mason,
Sophomore
Henrteo, N.C.
We need It to broaden our hori
zons and to make us more adapt
able.
TalkofECSU:
What is your opinion of the University's plan to add
a foreign language requirement to the GE curriculum?
Wallace Gibbs, Junior
Hyde County, N.C.
! doni feel it’s necessary. We have
enough requirements as it is out here, ft
should be an elective.
Yvonne Blount, Junior
West New York, H. J.
With all the types of peofrfe we come
across we ne^ a foreign language but it
should not be required, tt should be up to
the Indivtdual.
Guest Column
Jamal's challenge: To feel loved, worthy
By Lavenia Dameron
Jamal, my best friend, is a young
black man who is on this quest for
truth and purpose. He is a typical
black male, bom into the hip-hop
generation, a young "gansta, who
wears his pants sagging. Jamal, 18,
lives in a predominantly black,
crime-ridden community in
Elizabeth City. Like many young
African-Americans, his personal
life reflects the ills of society.
Jamal remembers being spoiled
with everything except love when
he was a child. When he needed a
hug, he would get a hand full of
quarters for video games or candy.
A child cannot grow into a stable
person without feeling loved or
being taught how to love. He was
the last son out of nine children, all
over ten years older than he. His
mother found herself trapped in a
disfunctional cycle, raising her
children alone and doing whatever
it took to keep food on the table and
clothes on their backs. Sometimes
her choices weren't morally correct
but she survived the years without
having Jamal and his siblings
separated by the state. Most of
Jamal 's family history is a
mystery to him. He has heard from
friends of the family that his
father shot his mother several
times while she was pregnant with
him. He has never confirmed this
fact with his mother but the scars
that form a circle around her naval
add credence to this story.
Three of his sisters live with him
and his mother, along with their
nine children. They are unem
ployed, uninspired, and dependant
upon the Department of Social
Services. Their house is old but
comfortable, filled with the
laughter of children, the groans of
complaining mothers, and the sighs
of an old woman. There are no
fathers mentioned. No one is ever
encouraged or disciplined properly.
Growing up in this type of
environment has affected every
aspect of Jamal's life.
With so many people living in
one house, it is difficult to maintain
order in the middle of chaos. It is
difficult to make sure everyone is
wearing their own underwear,
sleeping on their side of the bed,
every single crumb is off the floor,
and that every sticky handprint is
wiped from the glass door that
swings back and forth in the wind.
Ironically, Jamal is a neat freak.
He never leaves the house until the
bed is made, the dishes are done, or
his clothes are put away.
Attending school in Pasquotank
county was no picnic for Jamal. He
never had one of those perfect
teachers you see on after-school
specials. He spent more time on in-
school-suspension than he did in
the classrooms, usually for
disruptive behavior. He remembers
dealing drugs to several of his
teachers. His hero was never
Superman, or the Lone Ranger.
Instead, he would hang around
"shot houses" listening to old men
talk about old wars and women.
Jamal has a great deal of
intelligence, survivor instincts and
the potential to be a strong black
man. Despite his background, he
wants what everyone else wants:
enough money to live a comfortable
life, a family, a house like or better
than his neighbors', to give his
children opportunities he never
had. He wants something out of
life, but he needs to believe in
himself. He needs to be loved, to be
admired, to feel appreciated,
needed and worthy.
My role in Jamal's life is simple. I
am his friend, his guide, his
teacher, his role model, and his
inspiration. I am the motivating
unit in the scenes of his life. I
respect him. I encourage him. I give
him those things he missed when
he was growing up. I give him the
confidence he needs to better
himself. I keep him away from the
street corners and the people who
doubt him. Because of my influence,
he wants to further his education,
to own his own business, his own
home. Once he was satisfied with
the cards that life had dealt him
but now he realizes that as a black
man he has a responsibility to
himself and to his race,to control
his environment instead of
allowing it to control him.
African-Americans who don't
acknowledge or take the time to
learn about their past will never
understand the reasons for black-
on-black crime, poverty,and
disillusioned youths. Now that
Jamal views the world differently,
maybe he will be viewed
differently. He is not a statistic, a
loser, or a failure. He has simply
been misunderstood.