In 2010, I started to get anxiety attacks. I was in college, living in a tiny dorm room with 5 other guys (2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom), having just undergone double hip surgery. I couldn’t work out. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t do the things that I loved and defined me.
All the while, I was tutoring at an inner-city middle school for one of my class electives. On this particular evening, I was paired with a 6th-grade student named Derrick. We were sitting at an adjacent table from another student, Isiah, and his tutor – an older, bald man with glasses.
I remember hearing the bald man ask, “Isiah, do you like it here?”
Isiah answered, “Nah man. It’s just not for me.”
The old man removed his glasses slowly and placed them on the table. He asked permission of Isiah, “Can I share something with you, Isiah?”
“Sure,” Isiah remarked.