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True Change in Columbus Requires Commitment

  • by Natalia Temesgen
  • Aug 10, 2018
  • 6 min read

Natalia Temesgen attended multiple 2017 On the Table conversations and reflects on one of her conversations at Columbus State University.

Natalia Temesgen

I am an Assistant Professor of Creative Writing at Columbus State University. After the morning On the Table session, I headed to main campus to teach. After class and office hours, it was time for lunch and another On the Table event. This one would take place on campus in the outdoor pavilion at the new dormitory, Clearview Hall.

I arrived to find multiple picnic tables set with university catering: sandwiches, chips, and sodas. Kat Cannella, who I had seen that morning at Weracoba Park, was leading this session. She was representing Leadership Columbus and her goal in moderating was to get conversations going with people from all backgrounds. Now, though, the event was minutes away from starting and most of the tables were empty. Kat was a little concerned about turnout, but I reminded her that more people showed up to the morning session than expected. Give it another few minutes, I said, and the same outcome would likely happen here.

Sure enough, within another ten minutes far more seats at each table were occupied. There were CSU faculty, staff, students, and other community members with no direct affiliation to CSU. At my table, Kat moderated and a handful of us sat and ate with her. We began with introductions.

Abdul Fox, former NBA player and partner with Orange Theory fitness, was at the table to participate in a community conversation. He had only been living in Columbus for about a month, and wanted to get involved and connected to our residents.

Messiah Williams, a staff member at the Financial Aid Office, attended because she was a 1975 Columbus College alumna who was interested in the growth of the university and city at large. She recounted to us that back when she was an undergrad, “dorms” was a dirty word. People wanted to almost avoid any growth at the college and keep things local and contained. When she later found out from her sister that CSU had bought her apartment complex to turn into dorms, she was shocked and thrilled.

Abraham George, Chief Information Officer at UITS, was in attendance because he is already involved in the community and always looking for a better way to serve.

Philip Vongsavang, real estate professional, father of two, and CSU undergraduate, was attending because he was curious about the event and learning more about what is on people’s minds.

Kat asked us what we felt we could do better in our city. Abraham articulated that one of his prime concerns is the local K-12 demographic. He volunteers as a tutor on a weekly basis and observes that students are often very ill-prepared for academics and quite defeated before they really give themselves a good chance to succeed. How do we reach them? he posed to the group. Can we get people to commit to spend even a couple of hours a week to serve those kids?

I noticed myself recoil a bit at this question. I may not have been alone. It just seemed to me like a substantial commitment: a few hours every week? As a young mother of two young children with a full-time job and full plate of extracurriculars, that seemed like a big ask. I noted this reaction in myself; balance is important, but sacrifice for the good of the community is also important.

Messiah talked about her experience as a long-time Girl Scout Troop leader. Most of her scouts come from impoverished homes in South Columbus and she noticed that the biggest point of struggle seems to be the 8th grade. If you’re going to lose a young person, that’s the moment you’ll lose them. Abraham agreed.

We spent a few minutes lamenting the divides in the city. North Columbus and South Columbus are essentially two different cities, but because these racial and socioeconomic divides are as old as Columbus, we don’t generally prioritize making things change. Our city is full of resources, Kat added, but only if you know about them or have access to them. How do we get more people to know about what is out there for them?

We all shook our heads a bit. Things started to feel a little depressing, daunting, and it was easier to eat chips and sigh than try to come up with an answer to a question that has been plaguing our whole country for many generations.

Then, an older woman with a slightly frazzled look approached our table. We had already been talking for about a half hour. I wondered if she was lost. In fact, she knew just where she was. She was just running late.

We all met her: Eddream Lawrence. She was a retired educator and the mother of one of my English department faculty colleagues. Because I loved her daughter, I instantly loved her. Kat offered her food, but she only took a few chips. She hadn’t come to eat. She had come to share her story.

Eddream went to undergrad at Tuskegee University, then when into the National Teacher Corps. She taught students in New Orleans, then received her master’s degree at Xavier University. She remembers racism and sexism presenting hurdles for her everywhere she went, but she didn’t find herself discouraged enough to quit. When those societal ills closed doors, Eddream just found a window to climb through.

When she moved to Columbus, Georgia and settled into her career, she knew God was calling her to serve the families of incarcerated individuals. She taught many underprivileged students who were missing their fathers or mothers while they were in prison. She saw that those students needed another mentor in their lives, and she collaborated with like-minded individuals to form a group called Joy Behind Bars.

I perked up at the name. One of my church members participates in Joy Behind Bars. “Do you know Mary Margaret?” I asked Eddream. “Of course!” she said. I told her I’d wanted to participate in the women’s jail ministry, but hadn’t found the time. Eddream told us that we shouldn’t participate if we aren’t ready to dedicate the time. “Mentorship is a commitment. We cannot expect things to change overnight,” she told us gravely. She encouraged us to take that to heart with our own volunteer efforts, but to pass it along to our students as well. She hates to see young people fulfill minimal community service hours for school, then dump the project for good once they’ve met their quota.

“Modeling volunteerism to our children and peers is very important to the progress of our community,” she told us. We nodded in understanding.

Philip told us about his volunteer efforts at the Open Door Community House. Once, he served a taco dinner and the impoverished and homeless residents who ate it were ecstatic. “Thank God it’s not spaghetti dinner again!” they exclaimed. Philip told us that the past three evenings, three different groups had come to serve spaghetti dinner. He said it was a teaching moment: we can’t simply put in some effort and check a box. We must commit, communicate, and strategize. It isn’t an issue of money, but an issue of time and energy to do it right.

We all left the table full of lunch and inspired conversation. Nearly everyone exchanged contact information so that the dialogue we started could continue. I pulled Abdul and Eddream aside for a debrief.

Abdul grew up in Queens, New York in a low-income area. He remembers how tough it was for he and his friends growing up. He ended up “living the dream” by making it to the NBA, but in retrospect he doesn’t want kids to see him as a basketball star. He wants them to see him as a businessman or a world traveler, because these are the meaningful and realistic goals that our young people need to set for themselves.

As for participating in On the Table, Abdul said that he is leaving with a new appreciation for his commitment to time and the community. He feels he has to give back, though Columbus is not his hometown. He just wants to be a mentor and a role model, particularly for the African-American youth.

Eddream recalled how “stuck” Columbus was back in the late 60s, with racism affecting so much of daily life. She attended the event to hear different ideas on how our community can move forward together. “Can’t stay stagnant,” she told me, “especially when kids are perishing. The resources cannot stay at the top. They have to hit the bottom somewhere.”

Eddream didn’t know anyone at our table, but she walked away with multiple contacts. She was eager to learn the results after the University of Illinois at Chicago’s Institute for Policy and Civic Engagement (IPCE) work is done. She ended our brief dialogue with this: “Everybody impacts each other. It was meant for us to meet. We just got to figure out what else God wants us to do.”

 
 
 

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