Here in the United States there have been people who have openly threatened to burn Islam’s holy book, the Koran. Most of the people I’ve seen making these threats appear possessed by anger, fear and, often, an irrational hubris crying out for immediate medication or therapy.

I’ve listened to these zealots of myopic thought pontificate vehemently on the savagery and ignorance of other cultures; commanding time on major television news networks, radio stations, and mainstream print media.

If I am to believe the popular, and consistent, commentary of the social/political far-right in their assessment of Muslims the world over, then I must ask, “Why are Muslim’s not burning Bibles?”

Last friday two young girls agreed to meet off-campus from their school to fight one another here in the City of Long Beach California. According to witnesses the fight only lasted about a minute after which each of the girls went home.

Later that evening Joanna Ramos, 10 years old, complained that her head was hurting to her parents. Within hours she was dead. Today the coroner ruled her death a homicide as a result of blunt force trauma.

Part of my work involves visiting many of the schools here in Long Beach and I take pride in the honor of being able to serve our community in this capacity. I did not know the little girl or any of the children involved. I am touched because just a day prior to Joanna’s death I was in a classroom talking to 10 and 11 year olds about the choices they make having unimaginable consequences. During these classroom visits I feel a sense of urgency to reach as many of our children as I can to get them to begin thinking critically and see one another as allies rather than adversaries. Among many young girls there is a mantra of confrontation ignited by words as benign as, “She was looking at me!” There is even a trend among our youth participating in an activity known as “Bumping.’

“Bumping” occurs on campuses when a child will purposely bump into another child as a signal that they are challenging them to a fight. The two children involved in the bumping ritual agree to meet somewhere off campus and fight one another.

I don’t know if this is what occurred with Joanna Ramos but it is a pattern of behavior among our youth that adults in the community seem oblivious to.

What is not happening, and may not happen even now, is that the right questions are not being asked and answered. The death of Joanna Ramos is an indication of much greater systemic problems in our schools and communities. We are very good at asking the questions and treating the symptoms after the fact. That does not serve our children well at all. In fact, it is a disservice to function from a reactionary stance when it comes to our children.

Here is one question that should be asked: “Why do our youth feel compelled to engage in violent behavior?”

I assure you that there is no innate capacity for violence in “any” child and I am willing to stand by that statement against any evidence to the contrary.

As I continue to visit more schools and classrooms, this little girl’s death is going to weigh heavy on my heart.

I will ask one more time, “Why do our children feel compelled to engage in violent behavior?”

I think the truth is more frightening to us then we care to admit, which is why questions such questions as these continue to go unanswered. If we answer questions such as these then we are forced to have to do something about them.

I just left a church in Pomona California where I performed. I experienced such warmth and true affection that I’m  inspired to pull my car over and pen thoughts to paper. I travel the world, literally, and I’ve met with people from every station in life. I’ve spoken at, or performed in, synagogues, temples, mosques, churches, schools and even a few smokey bars but there is something about presenting before a room full of people, passionate our history, that imbues me with a deeper sense of purpose.

Less than 10 minutes ago I was in a room filled with people singing loudly with me, responsive to my insights, and not ashamed to shout words of encouragement during the performance. We laughed out loud and shared in the storytelling. At no time did I ever feel less than held in high esteem by those present. We shared in a level of timing and communication that can only be described as transcendent. The pastor of the church, Pastor Smith, came to me after my performance and pulled me into a deep, heartfelt embrace before inviting me back to perform for more of his parishioners. What a gift.

I like to think that I, and many others who do the type of work that I do, are continuing the legacy of Carter G. Woodson; the man who inaugurated, in 1926, a week recognizing the contributions of our ancestors to the world. With my life, I am attempting to represent with as much precision, class and integrity the inheritance of our history. The men and women of Primm Tabernacle AME Church in Pomona fed me in a way that is not easily described in words. I am humbled by the outpouring of love and respect heaped upon me during our time together this afternoon.

When my brother Jeff or Pastor Smith call, you can rest assure that I will be returning to do what I do for the good people of Primm Tabernacle AME Church in Pomona.

I know what I’m about to ask is going to sound a bit strange but recent events have me re-thinking of lot of what I had considered the norm. Here’s my question, “Why is it important to teach our children that they must be able to stand in a line?”

Before you answer, hear me out.

Over the years, as a storyteller, I’ve traveled to, quite literally, thousands of schools. Yesterday I noticed something that struck me for a greater desire of insight. It wasn’t as if it was the first time I was seeing this, but yesterday, for some reason, it stood out.

All schools are not equal. That goes without saying and I don’t think many will debate the thesis, but there seems to be a shift in the equality of our expectations on our children.

I visit more public schools than any other type. Occasionally a private school will bring me to their campus to share tales of my travels, music and even allow me to do a little storytelling every now and then. In every single public school I’ve ever entered, the importance of getting students to form and remain in “straight” lines has been an “entry-level” aspect of the meta-curricula. There are a host of other reasons why educators and parents deem it of paramount importance that our children be able to form lines but I’ll leave that to the more informed among us to expound on.

Yesterday I visited one of those campuses where resources are not in question and equestrian instruction is a part of physical education. One of the things that struck me immediately as I watched whole classrooms of children walking to their dinning hall (they had a dinning hall, not a cafeteria), was that they were not walking in a line. The student’s were walking across their campus similar to the way college students do. They were chatting, laughing and playing around but moving in the direction of their desired destination. There was no disruption to the campus, no classrooms were being disturbed. These were young elementary age children, not middle or high schoolers.

As I watched these children able to move themselves from place to place on this campus without standing in line, I really started to question the importance of the concept of “standing in line.”

So, I ask this once again, “What is the importance of teaching our children to stand in a line and why is this not important at “all” socio-economic levels of education?”

I spent the day at Covina High School today. As I write this I’ve got a huge smile plastered across my face.

I was invited to play my Kora and do a little singing for the school’s “Multicultural Festival.” It seems each day the students celebrate different cultures from around the world. Today, my day, they were focusing on the continent of Africa.

The students from the ASB set the tone with me. They were all accommodating beyond belief and made me feel right at home. They even helped me get set up by hanging my banner and asking if there was anything else I needed. I have “never” got that kind of treatment at high school before… never.

As I walked around getting the lay of the land before performing I was greeted with smiles and warm greetings. Did I say that this is a high school? It wasn’t what I had anticipated. There was maturity about the kids I was encountering that put me right at ease.

When I came time for me to perform, it was during the student’s lunch time. I wasn’t expecting to get a large crowd gathered around me, and I didn’t. Most stood off in the distance enjoying their meals, talking with friends and horsing around. It reminded me of my days in high school. I was feeling a bit nostalgic as I glanced up from my Kora to the sights and sounds surrounding me from the outdoor stage.

I had an hour to play for them and so I went though the songs on my new CD, playing each of them in extended form, live. It was fun! I was really enjoying this and they seemed to as well. Usually I combine the music with storytelling and colorful commentary, but not today. Today I went into a musical zone and just poured my heart out through the strings of my harp. It was amazing, therapeutic even.

When I finished with the final song the entire campus erupted in loud applause. I wasn’t expecting it and so it surprised me. I wasn’t sure how many had actually been listening. As I looked up I could see hundreds of kids, all over the campus, and staff too, all applauding. I beamed a bright, uncontrollable smile and felt affirmed on a grand scale.

If anyone from Covina High ends up reading this, let me just say, “Thank you for today, your school has gone a long way in renewing my faith in our youth… thank you Covina High staff and students for an unforgettable day.”