School Starts in the City

The Saturday of Labor Day weekend was a smoky haze of marijuana. Looking down the street at the rows of houses in my urban neighborhood, it seemed obvious that a local shipment had come in. There were clusters of folks in front of various homes, hanging out, laughing loudly, accompanied by the sickly sweet, distinctive smell of pot. I wondered if my kids could get high from breathing in the second hand smoke.

Sunday had the sounds of an active neighborhood enjoying a late summer day. Monday was Labor Day, and this time the smell of good ol' fashioned barbeque wafted down the street much of the day.

Monday night, though, and it was quiet. Quiet, quiet, quiet! I always wonder what makes some nights so active and some so silent and empty. Ours is a double-long street, so other than the roar of un-mufflered cars roaring down the street, there are times when it's peaceful.

But this Monday night, Labor Day night, was the night before school. Here in Michigan our first day of school is after Labor Day. And on this day, everybody buttoned up their partying habits, turned on their sober faces, and entered into the excitement of school. That night was quiet, with moms and grannies trying to convince their kids to go to bed two or three hours earlier than they had all summer.

I love the way my urban neighborhood takes children seriously. I love how all the adults, even the gang bangers, make a big deal about protecting kids. As an ethnic, cultural and economic minority in my neighborhood, protecting kids doesn't always happen in the way I think it should or in the way I'm used to understanding. But it's very clear to me that the parents and grandparents living on my street take their kids seriously. That first night before school...well, it might be the quietest night of the summer.

It's the same on Halloween. I'll never forget the first year I lived here during a Halloween. I was wondering what the drug dealers would do and if parents would work around the drug dealers. Instead, I was surprised to see that the drug dealers just disappeared that night. Not sure where they all went, but they were definitely not out. And I've noticed that every year since. Halloween is a kids' night. The unsavory characters get out of the way to make space for the kids of the neighborhood.

There are some things in my neighborhood that I don't want my kids exposed to. My 8- and 10-year old know pretty much all of the swear words now, and it's not from school, it's from home. And I worry about all the other things that every parent worries about. But here's what I do like: I like that my neighbors value kids. I like that everybody just seems to "get" that our future is in our children.

And so, here we are at the end of the first week of school. And I'm grateful. Grateful for my neighbors, for this place I get to raise my kids, and for the life lessons we get to talk about on a pretty regular basis. I'm grateful that my neighbors love kids too, and I'm grateful for this hopeful enthusiasm for our urban youth!