The One and Only

Tonight on Twitter, I had a very interesting sidebar with some fellow educators about the dearth of educators of color in schools where we work. It is something that I always think about one point or another because who I am and what I look like frames a certain perception for many people.

I can't begin to tell you how blessed I've been as an educator.

I got my first teaching job with a handshake.

My first AP job was with the one principal that I always wanted to work with.

My first Principalship enabled me to create the school that I always wanted to create if I had the opportunity to do things my way.

All of these opportunities have one thing in common: I was always the first and/or only Black male on the job. It has been an interesting experience that I was prepared for by my public school experience of being the only Black in my core classes (most of the time).

The experience was most glaring when I began my job in my current district. When I met the Superintendent, he told me, "You know you are the first." and I replied, "Yes sir...With all due respect it is not the first time that I've been the first." And so it began, my district had its first Black administrator since it's inception in 1929.

There are times when I am made aware of the gravity of being "the one and only".

I remember on of my first days in the district, there were a bunch of custodians at the end of a hallway and I was on the other end talking to some folks and they kept staring at me. Now mind you these were the only Black folks I have seen since I got hired so I was interested in meeting them. When I got to the opposite end of the hallway, I introduced myself by saying "How y'all doing, I'm Kirven Tillis...I know y'all thought I wasn't  going to speak." All of them busted out laughing because that is exactly what they were thinking! They thought I was stuck up and full of myself.

During my time in my district, there has never been more than 5 Black professionals in my district at the same time. I was Principal of a campus and I worked one of the Black teachers for three years and that was nice.

Being a Principal/Assistant Principal can be a lonely existence. That feeling is magnified when no one looks like you. There is pressure, mostly created by me, to make sure that I am looking my best and doing my job the "right" way. I am the only Black male that hundreds of kids are exposed to on a daily basis. There is pressure to represent and be a positive role model.

I am aware, acutely aware that whether I like it or not, I am the "representative", I am the one who will have to defend my "Blackness", I will have to fend off attacks from those who think I have "sold out", "got soft", or "lost touch". The opportunities that have been afforded to me are both a gift and a curse.

There are times when I see the custodians and I talk to them; they tell me how proud they are of me and that they see how the kids respond to me. I know that I am in the right place doing what I need to do. I love the kids and co-workers even if they don't all look like me. I wish our district was more diverse, but I have had the opportunity to contribute by hiring diverse staff members that are and will be outstanding teachers. I have had the opportunity to work with various groups of students, including minorities and the "at-risk". This is what I was built for, it is why I wake up rearing to go.

I relish it. I embrace it. I am indeed the one and only.