Personal & Authentic. Thomas C Murray

Foreword

      “Son, I love you, and I believe in you,” were the words he said that I’ll never forget. In my entire life, this was my very first encounter of a personal and authentic moment with a male who truly cared for and believed in me. Those words were spoken by Mr. DeMarco Mitchell, who, at twenty-three years old, was my eighth-grade math teacher and basketball coach.

      I was born to a sixteen-year-old single mother, and we lived in a two-bedroom home on the eastside of Atlanta. It was located in one of the roughest places in America, and that home was where fourteen of us lived. This was a household and environment filled with drugs, gangs, and violence. As a child, one night each week, I’d have the opportunity to sleep in the bed. Most nights, I’d sleep on the floor. Each morning, I’d stand at the bus stop before school and shake out my bookbag to make sure no mice or rats had made their way into it during the night.

      I didn’t want to become a statistic. I wanted to break a generational curse on my family, one where nobody had ever been to college. Since I was seven years old, I wanted to play in the NFL so my mom and family would never have to miss another meal.

      Growing up as I did, the most dangerous part of it all was that low expectations and failure was normal and acceptable. It was a way of life for those I lived with, many of whom are still in and out of prison, and those who lived in our part of the city. Life gave me every excuse not to succeed, but I was blessed to have had a teacher who refused to give up on me, even with my circumstances.

      Every night, my cousin and I would go out to the street and race light pole to light pole wearing no shoes. I knew achieving my dreams meant that I had to put in the work, and I was determined to make it happen. I remember this one night, standing on the corner in my neighborhood surrounded by drug dealers, and that same teacher, the one who wouldn’t stop believing in me, pulled up and said, “Inky, you’re better than this.” Although I wasn’t engaging in any illegal activity, he knew the danger I was in—not only personally but also my dreams, goals, aspirations, beliefs, and potential—just by being present.

      As my coach and mentor, he proceeded to speak to me as if we were in the midst of one of our basketball games. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Here’s how we’re going to beat this. I’m going to pick you up every morning before school and play you in a game of one-on-one basketball. Then we will study and learn Proverbs until you graduate high school.” To be honest, I thought our game plan would last probably a year, maybe less. But I was wrong. My teacher showed up, picked me up for school, day after day, and poured into me. He did whatever it took to support me. He believed in me.

      I’ll never forget the day the principal approached him in our gymnasium and said, “I heard you’ve been talking about the Proverbs with Inky.” Mr. Mitchell said, “Yes, sir, I have.” The principal reminded him of the separation of church and state and said that he could lose his job if it continued. Mr. Mitchell replied, saying he would just have to get fired then because my life was worth it. I remember walking home from school that day thinking that if my teacher was willing to put the way he provides for his wife and kids on the line for me, I had to make him proud, give him my best, and not let him down.

      Needless to say, he didn’t get fired. He did whatever was needed to help me. To this day, Mr. DeMarco Mitchell is still my mentor. It’s been nine years since he walked my wife down the aisle at our wedding. He will always be the man in my eyes who showed he cared more about me than he did about my grades, test scores, and sports. He wanted me to know and understand what personal and authentic love and connection looks and feels like. He would often tell me, “My press in life is to VALUE you more than I value what I believe about you.” As a teacher, his impact on my life, and the lives of others, has now been passed on to the next generation.

      I’m a firm believer that things don’t happen to you. They happen for you. The funny thing about my injury was that my life found new meaning and new purpose. Instead of the injury serving as a curse, it has served as a blessing. It’s an opportunity. You see, my arm may be paralyzed, but my heart