The Ideals of a Seventh Grade Boy

The Ideals of a Seventh Grade Boy by Yerimiah Evans

 

My seventh-grade civics teacher was named Ms. Lincoln. Teachers like her made me believe in an idealistic nation. We weren't perfect, far from it, in fact, but we tried to improve and be a little bit better every day. I loved her class because it made me feel proud to be an American. Ms. Lincoln would teach us about laws, U.S. history, Presidents, and my favorite unit, the amendments to the Constitution. The notion of a living document that can never truly be finished excited a younger me, and I memorized all 27 amendments with great pride. Outside of the classroom, I would boast my proficiency whenever I could. No matter what conversation I was having, I would find a way to talk about an amendment. My father and I could pass by the alcohol section in Publix, and I would explode into the thrilling narrative of organized crime brought on by the 18th, or how citizens living in D.C. couldn’t vote until the 23rd (that one fit into less conversations, but I found a way!). This pride soon turned into arrogance, however, and I would start rejecting any notions I hadn’t been taught in school. My seventh grade civics education inspired me, but did not paint the full picture. When I was told my grandmother did not go to an integrated school, I refuted the claim and lectured my father on Brown v. Board of Education. I was stubborn and refused to think of anything but perfect progress. The younger, naive me wanted to believe that then, and even now, we are a perfect nation, and a part of me still does. But the beliefs of a younger boy cannot carry an older one, and so I soon realized that a perfect nation does not appear out of thin air; it is fought for. The entire premise of an amendment is to right past wrongs and support a new future. A future inspired by the ideals of a younger boy, and fought for by an older one. To me, freedom is the promise I was told back then, the goal we strive towards every day, and the milestone of those willing to dream.

Long before my seventh-grade civics class, I was taught about the civil rights movement and the “major players” of the era. These players, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, and Rosa Parks, were held in high regard by all my early teachers as pioneers, fighters, and visionaries. They believed in a better way for their nation and for their people. But in a way, I never learned who they truly were. King was a reverend and orator. X was militant, and Parks was the woman who started a movement on a whim. History brushed over these people, took their works, and left the rest in the past. The promise I was told was that we were moving towards the future, and in that future, I do not want to live without respect for my past. I want that promise to include the strategic brilliance of Rosa Parks, and the organizing efforts and successes of the Montgomery Bus Boycott of legend. I want that promise to not study Malcolm X as a militant-monolith, but as someone who changed over time. And I need that promise to include the educational background of Dr. King. These leaders did not spark a movement because the mood struck them. They were educated, trained, and shaped by their environments to be leaders and visionaries. The younger boy didn’t know that. I didn’t know Dr. King attended an HBCU until high school. I did not know HBCUs were an option until high school. As we move away from the past, I want my future to include our Historically Black Colleges and Universities, and frame them not as a last resort to Black Americans seeking an education, but a real opportunity to embrace your true self and make a real impact in your community. In the same vein of Parks, FAMU students Wilhelmina Jakes and Carrie Patterson started their own successful bus boycott and won a battle in the fight for civil rights. Even today, when I visit the Florida Capitol, I take special care to visit the heritage walk just across the street and honor the gift they gave to their descendants, a promise of freedom and a mission to strive towards it in all they do.

Years after my seventh-grade civics class, I made the decision to honor that promise by pursuing an education in public policy and political science. I came into my first year at Florida A&M with that promise in mind and a spring in my step. The problem I immediately faced was a lack of direction. I was a man with a promise, but no purpose, no goal in mind. While an upperclassman introduced me to the world of grassroots organizing, I quickly noticed the younger man still there. Despite my efforts and arrogance, real lasting impact is hard to achieve. This lesson plunged me into the deepest despair of defeat. But the story was far from over, and that stubborn boy from long ago didn’t want to give up. A conversation with my mentor revealed to me a crucial truth: freedom is a constant battle we must wage, and a goal we strive towards every day. My goal soon sprouted into a purpose: I wanted to unite students across my community and empower them to be more active participants in politics. On January 14th, I donned a metaphorical suit of armor and founded Rise Tallahassee, with the mission to empower, educate, and inspire students to be more than they are, and live in the promise of our forebears to be the change we want to see. Through non-partisan civics education, I’ve seen a renaissance of political discussion on campus, and in doing so, I welcomed that younger boy to campus. I learned more about our history, and with Rise, I rose to the occasion and have started interacting with and teaching my fellow students about the very building and system our forebears were never meant to enter. But as we progress into the future, those restrictions decay into the past, and that milestone becomes closer and closer, because of our blood, sweat, and tears.

Decades after my seventh-grade civics class, I want our nation to be marked not by our past sorrows, but by our current successes. As Governor of the great state of Florida, I want to be a part of that brighter future here in the Sunshine State. My work here in Florida, however, is not self-contained; all across our nation, the leaders and visionaries of tomorrow are emerging. Students like myself are currently building a base of leaders and changemakers who are willing to move past stagnant progress and into the future we desire. The progress we are making is towards this very goal, a future of freedom marked by the leaders willing to dream it into reality. A future of freedom never known, and a future deserved.