Meet me in St. Louis!: Over the River

Let's talk about East St. Louis.

For those of you who don't know, East St. Louis lies directly across the Mississippi from St. Louis, MO. Since I have been here, I have heard this city referred to as “the hood,” “the ghetto,” and “a real sketch place.” Out of the total population (roughly 30,000, or something like that), 48.6% of those under the age of 18 and 25.2% of those 65 and older are living below the poverty line. Nearly a third of its families live on less than $7,500 a year; 75 percent of its population lives on welfare of some form.

The city definitely feels cut off from everything else, as if it is its own little world. Its streets offer views of shabby, run-down establishments like fried chicken joints, auto mechanic shops, and hair-braiding salons. There are various mini-marts, but no actual grocery store. There are a couple scattered Baptist churches as well as some crumbling clubs next to vacant lots. I've heard of the selection of strip clubs and erotic bars, but I have yet to see where they are located. The views of demolished brick buildings and unused lots are bleak. There are gang tags spray painted across abandoned concrete buildings and when it rains, water and sewage flood the streets. Looking west over the river you can see the layered skyline of downtown St. Louis with the shining white Arch standing out for emphasis. It looks closer than it really is, which is almost a slap in the face to people who feel trapped in this segregated city. The Eams Bridge from the Landing over the river to the East Side is like a bridge between two different planets where each side views the other inhabitants as some kind of alien. The metro cars are always packed in the mornings as I ride to work, but by the time they hit East St. Louis, I am the only one left.

East St. Louis is plagued by extreme cases of White Flight. The city is surrounded by suburban white areas, which make the contrasting demographics painfully stark.

At Vincent Gray, I am still getting to know many of my students' backgrounds. Some grew up in East St. Louis, some moved here with their relatives, some were were with their mothers, fleeing abusive fathers. One girl relocated here after her home was taken by hurricane Katrina. My students are all African American. They all dropped out or were kicked out of the public high schools and ended up at Vincent Gray. Some because of apathy, some because of drugs, some because of violent behavior, arrests, pregnancies, etc. It is always different, but always kind of the same. Most students are between the ages of 17 and 20, but a few are my age. Some are even older. I have three girl students who are pregnant. One just had a baby girl a week ago. Her mother had no clue that she was pregnant. I would guess that about three fourths of my students have kids. A few have night jobs and constantly fall asleep in class. A few have been in and out of jail. One of my smartest and more diligent students is currently under house arrest. His hearing is in early September and he is looking at 21 years incarceration. I don't know what he did, but it is very hard for me to see him slowly lose interest in writing and friends and life in general as he sees his young future slowly take the image of a prison cell.

My first week saw a couple fights. I have had to remove students from my classroom with help from the principal while still trying to keep control of the class. It is difficult to do, but I feel confident about myself in these situations. Somehow I am comfortable handling things like that. It makes the workday more interesting. I was not surprised by the fighting, but more by the hatred some of the students have for each other. Particularly between the boys and girls. The things they scream to each other across the room during arguments are horrible.

But even my troublemakers are charming in their own ways, and I really love them all. They have a flirtatiousness about them that always wins me over secretly even as I am confiscating their cell phones, reminding them not to regale us with tales of their sexual exploits during free writes, or forcing them to do subject/predicate worksheets. The sassy students who fight and talk back and say whatever is on their mind don't wear on me as much as the apathetic ones do. The students who sit there with their heads on their desks, seemingly unable to work up the motivation to write even a sentence are the ones who make my hour-long classes drag on for days.

But really, there are good days and bad days for every student. I am slowly learning their joys and struggles, and trying to work with them to get them where they want to be. My favorite conversations with them are when we talk about what they want to do after graduation. Marnez wants to join the Marine Corps and Timetra (TT) wants to go into the Army. Travion wants to be a nurse, Juan and Kearron are both interested in studying history, and LaToya wants to get her own place for when her baby arrives. Some of them can't wait to get out of E. St. Louis, some want to stick around, but they all definitely are ready to graduate.

Good Times:

There was an apocalyptic thunderstorm one Saturday evening, but it wasn't chilly Pacific Northwest rain, it was nice, warm-bathwater, midwest rain. Gabby, Ari, Dayna, and I danced in the flooded streets for at least half an hour singing songs from The Sound of Music at the top of our lungs. Needless to say, our neighbors adore us.

Not-so-awesome moments:

A hungover student projectile vomiting all over the place in my 9am class. Later quoted as saying, “I thought about grabbing the trash can, but then I decided not to.” Awesome :)