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®H«w5RESss53S®ss£a5SS2!®SH 2 cn NEWS INSIDE MOREHOUSE, APRIL/MAY 2009 Inside Morehouse is about the people who make up the Morehouse College communitv- To tell those stories, WE NEED YOU to send us your ideas, comments and thoughts, along with your news, information about your new books or publications and your commentary for sections like My Word. To send us your information, contact Inside Morehouse Editor Add Seymour Jr. at aseymour@morehouse.edu For more up-to-the minute information about academic departments, administration, athletics, registration, financial aid, as well as the people and places at Morehouse College, go to if www.morehouse.edu Inside MOREHOUSE Director of Public Relations Toni O'Neal Mosley tmosley@morehouse.edu Executive Editor Vickie G. Hampton vhampton@morehouse.edu Editor Add Seymour Jr. aseymour@morehouse.edu Calendar Editor Julie Pinkney Tongue jtongue@morehouse.edu Photographers Philip McCollum Jim Robinson Add Seymour Jr. Yusuf Davis Graphic Design Musick Design Web Services Hana Chelikowsky Kara Walker Inside Morehouse is published monthly during the academic year (with a combined November/ December issue) by Morehouse College, Office of Communications. Opinions expressed in Inside Morehouse are those of the authors, not necessarily of the College. MY WORD Children Suffer From Injustice By Unequal Schools BY JONATHAN WALL (Wall’s guest editorial appeared in the Atlanta Journal Constitution on April 20, 2009) Recently, I was a judge at Georgia Mathfest, an event where more than 5,000 kids engaged in mathematical activities, games and all-around fun. One of the main events was math-bate, a combination of math and debate in which teams were given scenarios and had to analyze and solve them mathematically. They also had to think critically about the various situations and apply reasoning and logic. Once they solved a scenario, they gave a presentation in front of me and a fellow Morehouse brother. While we scored them based on the correct ness of their math, most of the points derived from their ability to explain their reasoning and the gen eral fluidity of their presentation. What we witnessed in our many hours judging events was disheartening. Inequalities in education and the underlying factors are something that I’ve always been passionate about understanding. Going to predominantly white schools for grades k-8, and a predominantly black school for grades 9-12 helped me see more clearly the dividing line of educational quality. At Mathfest, I saw the overwhelming disparities that now plague America’s public schools. Of the 20 teams on each grade level, about 15 were completely Cau casian/Asian/Non African American, two or three were all African Ameri can. Only two or three were a mix. There were tremendous gaps in the speaking and reasoning ability of the African American groups. The Cau casian/Asian groups would stand in front of us with confidence and pride, using immense vocabularies consisting of words far beyond what I thought the average kid their age understood. The African American groups were significantly less prepared, get ting a majority of the problems wrong and having one or two stu dents do the talking while the others just stood there. Not because they didn’t want to speak, but because they didn’t know the information. Some even struggled to read the in structions. The intended fun of the event was not felt by these students. The mathbate was just another ex ercise in which they saw their Cau casian peers outperform and win. Being a judge, I had an obligation to fairness, impartiality and neu trality. I would search for reasons to give the African American groups a few extra points, so the scores would look respectable, but my searches came back empty. I didn’t quite re alize to the full extent what I was witnessing until the event was over and the winners had been crowned. I can’t even begin to describe the feelings and thoughts that raced through my heart and mind as I walked group after group to the podium to be awarded their first place plaques. Of the 40 individual winners, only three were black. And two were on the same team. It troubles me that America’s pub lic schools (and private, but that’s an other situation) are still unequal and lack not only diversity, but equality in the distribution of resources. Some try to blame it on the intellec tual capacity of the kids, but that is not the case. There is no reason for “There is no reason for there to be such a wide gap in the academic skill set of students...” there to be such a wide gap in the ac ademic skill-set of students in the same grade in the same state. Disproportionate education is injustice. Everything starts with a foundation, the roots if you will. Elementary/middle schools are the roots from which we sprout up dur ing high school, college and life. When a root isn’t getting the proper nutrients that it needs to grow, it shrivels. It may be harsh, but if we don’t make a change, this is what will continue to happen to generation after generation of our youth. There has got to be a better way. And we are all in charge of finding it. ■ Jonathan Wall wants to be a civil rights attorney. The Lesson in My Name BY MANSA BILAL MARK KING W e can learn a lot from a name. In the best of African traditions, a per son’s name tells you about her or his life journey and/or life purpose. My parents named me Mark Alexander King. Mark was a disciple of Jesus and thus a man of faith. For my family, though, Mark was also the son of “The Rifleman” (a 1960s television western). My father was an expert marksman in the Army. So, he is the “Rifleman” and I am his son. And Mark is Greek for “strong defender.” Alexander was a Greek ruler and empire builder. With my surname, King, we again find this connotation of a de fender of people or a conqueror. The best war a king can wage, though, is against his lower self. To neglect the internal war while rul ing over others invites any king to tyranny. Such is the calling of the names given to me by my parents. After I embraced Islam, I released one name and added two new ones. Again, following African traditions, I did not release my name entirely I added to it. Through this practice, African names tell the story of a person. So, my story continues with names from Islamic Africa. Mansa is the Mandinka word for “ruler” or “king.” Most of us have heard of the Mansa named Musa. On his pil grimage to Mecca, he gave away so much gold in charity that it hurt the Northeast African economy. This was just one Mansa who ruled Mali. Today Mali is rising again be cause of the Timbuktu papers. These priceless treasures give voice to the indigenous, literate Muslim scholars who lived in West Africa’s scholarship centers for nearly 1,000 years. Today, the inheritors of these manuscripts often live in impover ished conditions. Yet, analyses of the papers have already begun to connect African American non violence traditions to West African non-violence traditions. That is, they connect the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. ‘48 to the Mansa- supported scholars of West Africa’s Golden Age. Finally, there is Bilal, the name I ask friends to call me. Bilal lived in Arabia. However, he was from Habesha, which is part of modern- day Ethiopia. Bilal was one of the first residents of Mecca to embrace Islam. He did so despite being held in slavery, or perhaps because of it. The Islamic message on slavery features equity requirements. These include: feeding and clothing one’s slaves as one eats and dresses; help ing one’s slaves with their hard work, and freeing slaves as atone ment for sins. This requirement to humanize slavery was among the many elements of Islam that induced fear among the Meccans, who rejected the Islamic call to live righteous lives. Islam’s potential to establish a just society seemed a threat to their unbridled quest for political, eco nomic, and status superiority. Bilal embodied the political threat when, instead of obeying his owner’s command to whip a Muslim, he embraced the faith, too. Though he was tortured for his disobedience, a wealthy Muslim soon purchased Bilal and set him free. Bilal spent the rest of his life as a defender of justice and religious freedom. He also became the first muezzin, a person of great piety who calls the Muslims to prayer. I strive to have faith like Bilal did - against all odds. So, my ancient names tell stories that are quite relevant today. I made my name change legal after encoun tering bureaucratic troubles. The “separation of church and state” does not (and cannot) prevent our secular laws from regulating how spirituality is expressed. But, that is another chapter in the story of my name. ■ Mansa Bilal Mark King is an assistant professor of sociology.