Academic Depression

It's 12am and I've been writing since 10am this morning. I've been spending the last couple of weeks attempting to write for at least 4-5 hours a day including weekends. I've been working on my content chapter which is focusing on reviewing the literature on gender, masculinity, Black masculinity, Black male schooling, Black middle-class male schooling (there is none) and defining class. The last concept has been the toughest so far. I've been asking people through casual conversations how they define class (social class that is). It's amazing how across the board people are in their definitions. They talk about class in terms of style, manners and of culture. "Oh, he has class because he drives a..." or "Class is just where you rank in social status." To be honest, you'd be hard pressed to find any singular definition, at least in terms of general discourse. I decided to define class structure, and particularly the middle-class, in terms of their relation, within the labor market, to the means of production. I realize that this is very Marxist/Weberian but all things considered, this seemed to be the best option. I'm still second guessing a bit, worried about the role of race in class determination.

But anyway, to address the title of this blog, "Academic Depression", as I continue to read and digest the literature on the plight of Black men and Black male education, and as a Black male myself, I can't help but to see myself in the literature. As I read the different ethnographic accounts of Black boys' experiences in schools I am always able to reflect on my own experiences, pointing out teachers and events that could have, or possibly did, negatively impact my educational opportunities. The social statistics on Black males is dismal reporting on increased incarceration, early death, unemployment, etc. The educational statistics are just as daunting and pretty much reflect the larger state of the Black male problem. Underachievement in school, high drop-out, overrepresentation in special education programs, low college enrollment are just a few. I begin to reflect on how for every 1 of me, there were probably 5-10 other bruhs at my school that didn't have the same academic success and social opportunities that I have had. I read the statistics but what's worse is that I know the guys who comprise the numbers. They are the guys who my father, who was a parole agent, would tell me were coming through his office. They are the guys I played football and ran track with. 

I know consuming this literature is supposed to be empowering, and obviously what I am learning will inevitably be used to idealize new solutions to these problems, but it can be kind of depressing. I'm basically reading stories of men who could have easily been me if that substitute teacher had reported me for throwing the chair at her. That one event could have been the defining moment in a negative trajectory of my life. Instead of sitting in my "ivory tower" writing in academia, I could literally be sitting in a gray cell, writing letters to my family. It's depressing because essentially these stories are about me.