Second chances

I love second chances. Every one deserves one of those precious moments. They are pure forms of grace, and it is never enough to receive or offer grace. Last week, I accompanied Jay (Jamil), a Sudanese student and his dad to a school meeting. The family who is originally from Sudan moved to our neighborhood only three weeks ago. The dad works as a factory worker and decided to move from down town Chicago, so that his son might get a better education opportunities in suburb Chicago.

"Mr. Gumma, I did not expect you to bring company with you," the tall, handsome, blue-eyed principal said referring to me. I smiled politely, nodded my head and introduced myself stating that I was asked by Mr. Gumma to attend this meeting so that we can all work together to help Jay at his school. The principal who did not seem interested in hearing my comments, handed a list of Jay's disruptive behaviors in the last three weeks to both of us. As I looked at the list, Jay missed several days of his school, got into an argument with a teacher and was suspended for a day or so. I continued reading the report but I was interrupted by the Principal deep voice.

"As you see Mr. Gumma, Jay seemed to have a self-control problem. He continued to display aggressive, disruptive,and disrespectful behaviors toward his fellow students and teachers inside and outside the class room," said the principal looking at Jay. Few moments of silence followed that statement, while all eyes were watching Jay, who was trying hard to avoid any kind of eye contact. Finally, the principal broke up the golden silence stating that Jay needs to learn a lesson about consequence, and then he threw a bomb shell in the room. "I think that Jay needs to be withdrawn from school Mr. Gumma. Please signed the withdrawal form," said the principal handing Mr. Gumma the form and a pen.

Till that point, I did not know what to make of the handsome principal. In a sense, he was a little emotionally distant which I did not like to say the least. However, as an intuitive person, I learned from previous experiences not to build my final judgment based on my gut feelings, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and decided to wait and hear further from him. But as he started talking about withdrawal, his words sounded very calculated, rehearsed and artificial. I could not understand why he chose the word "withdrawn" instead of "expelled". Apparently, the first indicates a voluntary action which is not the case here. Additionally, his reasons for expelling Jay were not convincing enough, knowing that the kid has only been three weeks in the new school.

I reminded the principle that Jay is actually is being expelled and not withdrawn from school, that he would like to stay and that he should be given a second chance. The principal who looked more annoyed that I am taking a part in this conversation, disagreed. "Expulsion is a strong word that I don't like to use. Please sign here Mr. Gumma, he said, handing Mr Gumma a withdrawal form and pen again. My mind was working fast. I knew that I had to say or do something but did not where to start. I turned to Mr. Gumma speaking to him in Arabic asking him to refuse to sign any document till we find out more about his legal and civil rights.

I turned my face back to the principal trying to use another approach. This time, I tried to shed a light on the humanistic experiential component of the problem. I told him that Jay could have been lonely, isolated and might need sometime to adjust to his new environment, besides it cab be difficult to a Black child to live and function well in a White dominant school. The Principal disagreed and the conversation went back and forth for the next two hours. Finally, we told the principal that no one is going to sign his withdrawal form and that we will be looking at other actions that we might be able to take against his school. Apparently, that approach seemed to work and the principal finally agreed on giving Jay a second chance.


I left the meeting with a foul mood. It was late and cold, a typical spring evening of Chicago unpredictable weather so I decided to drive back home. Rain drops started falling smoothly on my old black Altima giving it a second chance of looking good and descent. That night and I was holding my son looking at his sweet sleepy face. I could not help but to remember Jay's face. The contrast between the darkness of his skin and the brightness of his eyes added a splendid beauty to his innocent face. Words from an old song that we used to sing when I was little popped into my head:

God loves the little children, all the children of the world
Red or yellow, black or white they are precious in His sight
From every tribe and every race, they are covered by His grace
God loves the little children of the world

The words had a soothing impact on my soul. My eyes soften as I shed few tears remembering Jay, a little kid who does not want in this life more than to be loved and accepted by his dad, stepmom, teachers and his new friends. As I surrendered my eyes to sleep that night, the face of the principal with his judgmental attitude captured my mind. Feelings of anger, resentment and disappointment started to build up in my heart. My heart started bouncing and thoughts started racing again. "Judgmental, racist, rude were some words of many that raced into my little mind. As my mood was getting blue, a divine voice whispered softly in my ears" all of what the principal need is... a second chance." Shifaa