Sometimes I ignore the shuttle stop and walk to school instead. I head down the hill of my street and under the freeway overpass that marks the separation between Mt. Vernon and East Baltimore.
On the left is a jail with tall brick walls topped with barbed wire. A few men in jump suits walk out of the building, single file, pushing laundry carts. They disappear through a door and are gone. A middle-aged man on the sidewalk stumbles as he tries to maintain balance. He stares at the ground, wide eyed, as if he has no idea where he is or why. He is tripping on something strong and he doesn't even notice as I walk by.
An old lady stands at the bus stop in a turquoise dress suit with a hot pink cowboy hat. I smile and she stares straight ahead. On the left is a tree-lined field where young mothers push their babies in strollers and boys play football. I pass the Old Town Flava Barber Shop on the right and a large group of men sitting at the edge of the field. They are always there, no matter the time of day. Around the corner there is a street of homes that has been blocked off to cars. A tiny girl in braids sits on her gray stone stoop, lollipop in hand. A young man with quick eyes stands on the corner and points at the ground repeatedly. I think he is working with a drug dealer and I walk faster. He moves away when he sees me and I imagine what it would be like to be an undercover cop. (Scary, I decide.)
Pieces of paper litter the sidewalk and a plastic bag floats by and lands in the gutter, deflated. I pass a church and a few old women exit the front doors. They wear wide-brimmed hats and flowered dresses over their short bodies, and they smile as I pass. An older man in a hat and vest sits on a bench in the shade and smokes a cigarette. I smile and he says, "Have a nice day, baby."
I come upon a school where a group of young boys play basketball on a court with chain link walls and trash piled in the corners. Little ones run and scream on the playground, dressed in yellow and maroon school uniforms and hair twisted in ties all over their heads. A boy, standing at the top of the slide, waves and yells, "Hi!" I wave back. He waves again, so I wave again. I wonder if he has parents who love him and whether he will go to college. Suddenly, a helicopter appears overhead and I look to see if it belongs to the police or the hospital.
I cross the intersection and the neighborhood changes. The noise picks up and more and more people are about. A security guard sits in a booth, looking up and down the street as nothing interesting happens. Large buildings appear on either side of me, their names taken from old men with lots of money. People in suits and scrubs walk past a street vendor selling candy and soda. Important people walk quickly by because they have important things to be doing.
After just 20 minutes, I arrive at my building. I put on my badge and walk through the glass doors. I sit through lectures about HIV/AIDS, health equality and community participation. We talk about reaching the marginalized and saving lives. Then we pack up our bags and go home, walking right past the woman with HIV and the addict in the corner, all the while dreaming about when we will be able to put our knowledge to practice.
On the left is a jail with tall brick walls topped with barbed wire. A few men in jump suits walk out of the building, single file, pushing laundry carts. They disappear through a door and are gone. A middle-aged man on the sidewalk stumbles as he tries to maintain balance. He stares at the ground, wide eyed, as if he has no idea where he is or why. He is tripping on something strong and he doesn't even notice as I walk by.
An old lady stands at the bus stop in a turquoise dress suit with a hot pink cowboy hat. I smile and she stares straight ahead. On the left is a tree-lined field where young mothers push their babies in strollers and boys play football. I pass the Old Town Flava Barber Shop on the right and a large group of men sitting at the edge of the field. They are always there, no matter the time of day. Around the corner there is a street of homes that has been blocked off to cars. A tiny girl in braids sits on her gray stone stoop, lollipop in hand. A young man with quick eyes stands on the corner and points at the ground repeatedly. I think he is working with a drug dealer and I walk faster. He moves away when he sees me and I imagine what it would be like to be an undercover cop. (Scary, I decide.)
Pieces of paper litter the sidewalk and a plastic bag floats by and lands in the gutter, deflated. I pass a church and a few old women exit the front doors. They wear wide-brimmed hats and flowered dresses over their short bodies, and they smile as I pass. An older man in a hat and vest sits on a bench in the shade and smokes a cigarette. I smile and he says, "Have a nice day, baby."
I come upon a school where a group of young boys play basketball on a court with chain link walls and trash piled in the corners. Little ones run and scream on the playground, dressed in yellow and maroon school uniforms and hair twisted in ties all over their heads. A boy, standing at the top of the slide, waves and yells, "Hi!" I wave back. He waves again, so I wave again. I wonder if he has parents who love him and whether he will go to college. Suddenly, a helicopter appears overhead and I look to see if it belongs to the police or the hospital.
I cross the intersection and the neighborhood changes. The noise picks up and more and more people are about. A security guard sits in a booth, looking up and down the street as nothing interesting happens. Large buildings appear on either side of me, their names taken from old men with lots of money. People in suits and scrubs walk past a street vendor selling candy and soda. Important people walk quickly by because they have important things to be doing.
After just 20 minutes, I arrive at my building. I put on my badge and walk through the glass doors. I sit through lectures about HIV/AIDS, health equality and community participation. We talk about reaching the marginalized and saving lives. Then we pack up our bags and go home, walking right past the woman with HIV and the addict in the corner, all the while dreaming about when we will be able to put our knowledge to practice.
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1 comment:
so true. so very true.
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