You might assume that graduating is every student’s no-duh conclusion after 12 years of early rises, sketchy breakfasts, hasty hygiene and barely escaped tidal waves of tardies.  But as a classroom teacher, an educator for over twenty years, a Student, myself, for 18 cumulative years, and now as a mom, depending on the student, the household, the educational system, the political climate, and the times, it’s no given.  For Black boys in particular, that polyester cap and gown may as well be a suit of armor during the Crusades as much as it now signifies the Dear-God-I-made-it-out-of-there-ness of making it through school.  A high school diploma, the least of which one needs to apply for employment in our society, may be all some of our children will ever clasp, as many parents in the African- American community, in particular, look askance at University price tags and student loan shackles.

Can my kid forgo this, some of us ask?  My rolodex is rife with friends and relatives who are living quite the lucrative life devoid of Nelnet’s existence in their Yahoo contacts.  I love my degrees, but I have people younger than me making 3 times what I make even as