See, as I got older, I started to have this unlawful feeling in my belly, like I was doing something that I wasn't supposed to be doing; taking something that wasn't mine; receiving a gift, but with someone else's name on it. All these amazing things that I was being exposed to and experiencing, I felt I wasn't really supposed to have. I wasn't supposed to have a library, fully equipped athletic facilities, or safe fields to play in. I wasn't supposed to have theatre departments with seasonal plays and concerts --digital, visual, performing arts. I wasn't supposed to have fully resourced biology or chemistry labs,school buses that brought me door-to-door, freshly prepared school lunches or even air conditioning.These are things my kids don't get.

  You see, as I got older, while I was grateful for this amazing opportunity that I was being given, there was this ever-present pang of: But what about everyone else? There are thousands of other kids just like me,who deserve this, too. Why doesn't everyone get this? Why is a high-quality education only exclusive to the rich?

  It was like I had some sort of survivor's remorse. All of my neighborhood friends were experiencing an educational train wreck that I was saved from through a bus ride. I was like an educational Moses screaming, "Let my people go ... to high-quality schools!"


  I'd seen firsthand how the other half was being treated and educated. I'd seen the educational promised land, and I could not for the life of me justify the disparity.

  I now teach in the very same school system from which I sought refuge. I know firsthand the tools that were given to me as a student, and now as a teacher, I don't have access to those same tools to give my students. There have been countless nights when I've cried in frustration, anger and sorrow, because I can't teach my kids the way that I was taught, because I don't have access to the same resources or tools that were used to teach me. My kids deserve so much better.