Reimagining Education Scholarship

If I could create a class that every student from kindergarten through 12th grade would be required to take, it would be called “Foundations of Self: Identity, Purpose, and Integrity.” This course would go beyond surface-level discussions of race, class, or nationality and ask deeper, lifelong questions: Who am I? What do I stand for? Why do I believe what I believe? And most importantly, how do I live a life that reflects my values with both courage and compassion? As a graduate of Morehouse College—a place that taught me not only how to think, but how to be—I understand the power of education to transform the self. But before a young person can truly change the world, they need to understand who they are. This doesn’t mean having all the answers at once. It means learning how to reflect, how to sit with discomfort, how to ask hard questions, and grow through them. This isn’t hypothetical for me. I’ve spent a decade running track and cross country—training, winning, losing, falling behind, and pushing through. There’s a strange clarity you gain in the discipline of running. Your body hits a wall, but your mind has to decide: Do I stop here, or do I find something deeper in myself? That kind of grit doesn’t just apply to athletics. It applies to life. It’s part of identity—the part built through struggle and commitment. In “Foundations of Self,” students would explore the many threads that shape who they are: family, faith, gender, geography, experience, culture, and yes, race and class—but not as end points. The goal would be to examine these threads honestly, to untangle them when necessary, and to learn how to weave them into a self that is rooted, resilient, and responsible. Students would write personal manifestos. They would practice civil discourse and learn how to defend their ideas without dehumanizing others. They would be asked, again and again, what kind of person do you want to be when no one is watching? As a Black man, I know that America often tries to reduce us to pain or performance. But identity is richer than oppression, and deeper than perception. It's spiritual. It's moral. It's built in silence and service, in relationships and resistance. This class would give every child—regardless of their background—a space to grow with intention, to develop integrity, and to realize that they are not powerless in the shaping of their character. The impact? I believe it would be generational. A society that teaches its young people to lead from within would value compassion over competition, authenticity over image, and responsibility over apathy. It would build people who don’t just follow trends but shape futures—people who know why they’re here and who they’re committed to becoming. This class would not be about giving students all the answers. It would be about giving them the tools to ask better questions. Because when you know yourself, you move through the world with purpose. And when you move with purpose, you can’t be easily broken, bought, or bent. You stand.