A trek across the Bridge- without tech

Posted on July 31, 2024 by Lystria Hurley

The young people in my church do not communicate with one another as I did with my peers growing up. One main factor is technology. Some of the children have the bad habit of scrolling (as adults) when around the temple. I didn’t realize it was an issue until I asked one child to call another.

Who him?

Yes! You see him every week and don’t know his name?!

Not all the children have a personal phone but all of them at one point or the other use the phone for recreational activities while in the temple. When school let out and it was time for the Youth Conference, I had one agenda: get the children to learn each other names. I planned a day trip to Brooklyn and got the parents involved. The morning of the trip, I asked the children:

Who can name everyone in the group?

No one could.

Great. This leads me to the next ask. I ask you all to leave your phones at the church while we travel.

What?! Not my phone!?

Yes, your phone. Leave it here. Challenge yourself to talk to each other and learn one another names.

It didn’t take too much begging as I thought it would. As a matter of fact, they did so willingly.

When I told the Little Flock we were going to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, they were ecstatic.

It’s a mile long to said to them.

Oh, that’s no problem! They said. One of them, Carter, told me of the time he and his dad rode their bikes over 5 miles!

The picture above is of them before the trek. Standing with them is Mother Grace. She’s excited as well.

Here’s another photo. This one really captures their joy. What you don’t see is the huge black cart I have filled with their bags and food. What they didn’t know at that moment was, I was NOT going to be responsible for pushing the food cart alone.

I warned them of the many people crossing the bridge and told them to stick with the group. I also told them about the many vendors and reminded them that the only food we were eating was in the cart.

We started out and there was so much to see and learn!

By the time we were half way across the bridge, everyone was looking for an exit, a way out, and even though I am smiling, I am too!

Mother Grace was doing a great job taking photos. As you can see, the cart is being passed around and now Ely is pushing it. He did so with the joy of a child which made him the official cart pusher until someone else got jealous and he happily passed the job on to them.

We reached the end of the bridge (finally) and you would have thought they never walked a block in their lives. I was weighed down by their lack of not wanting to walk anymore. They began to remind me of the itinerary for the day:

Are we getting pizza now? Where is the park? Can we get ice cream?

We got to the park and they ate lunch (from the cart) and played for almost two hours! I couldn’t believe that they couldn’t walk abut could play and play and play!

Soon it was time to get brick oven pizza but instead of going to a pizza parlor, we ended up at an ice cream shop that sold all sorts of ice cream even for lactose intolerant children.

Ely who helped the most and made it his duty to remember everyone’s name got a milk shake. He was the only one who didn’t have to spend his own money.

They laughed and talked garrulously.

The mall had some fun exhibitions to check out.

But pretty soon it was time to go back home and the first question they asked was-

Are we going back across the bridge?

Maybe. Why?

Because we are tired. We can’t walk across that bridge.

Well maybe we will take the train from here.

Please. Please. We beg of you.

I looked at them and laughed. We took the train instead of walking across the bridge. Everyone went to sleep on the long train ride back to the Bronx. Even I dozed off right before it was time to get off!

I was awaken by the little boy with the high pitched voice. Amir shouted in my ear and pulled my arm.

Sisstria! Sistria! It’s our stop!!

How he remembered our stop is still unbeknownst to me.

I jumped up and everyone followed. Scrambling. We got on the platform and I trudged along with the sleepy children. One little girl was walking with her eyes closed, holding on to my arm. We maneuvered through the crowed station until she cried ouch!! ouch!!

I looked down at her.

What happen?

I bumped into his arm!! Ouch, my eye!

I looked up at an embarrassed tall man who was standing akimbo. “Sorry”, miss, he mumbled. She walked smack into my elbow.

I quickly moved on.

How did you walk into his elbow? The child was holding my arm tighter.

My eyes are closed. I am sleepy.

But darling, I said, stopping to look at her face, you can’t walk on the platform with you eyes closed. I scolded as we continued walking and picked up our pace. “You can hang on to my arm but you must open your eyes!!” I thought of the irony of it all, here I am hoping they will get to know each other names and these kids seem to have an agenda of their own. The audacity, walking with her eyes closed!

We finally got out of the station and walked back to church. I thought they were going to be anxious about using their phones once we arrived back at the church; but they continued to eat and talk with one another (with their eyes wide open) until it was time to go home.

Chopped Cheese goes a Long Way

Posted on July 30, 2024 by Lystria Hurley

One night during tax season, I had a victorious night serving others. For me, it wasn’t strange. It was humane.

When I got home, I told my sister about my night.

A couple of days later, I told my mentor.

I testified about it in church.

Finally my experience was published in the New York Times:

Chopped Cheese

Dear Diary:

I was on my way to a Jackson Hewitt tax office in the Bronx on a Monday night. I stopped at a Bengali place for dinner. I left with two samosas, plus dinner and lunch for the next day. It was 9 p.m. when I got to the subway station. I looked around and noticed a boy on the platform. He was playing a video game. I opened the container with the samosas, but before I could dip one in sauce, the boy interrupted me.

Excuse me, Miss, he said. Do you have a dollar for water? I’m thirsty.

I put my food away.

Let’s go, I said.

We went downstairs.

Are you hungry? I asked him.

Yes, he said.

We walked to a Jamaican restaurant on the corner known for its jerk chicken, bread fruit and steamed fish.

Please, Miss, the boy asked, can we go to a deli?

We found one nearby. He ordered a chopped cheese and an Arizona iced tea. I paid, and we ran back up to the station. The train pulled in immediately. We got on, and the boy took out the sandwich. I listened as he talked about wanting to be a doctor and ate his chopped cheese.

Stay focused, I began to say. Before I could say more, he hugged me and said good night.

I got off at the next stop and walked into Jackson Hewitt.

You are my last customer, the tax preparer said.

Oh, great, I said. I stopped by a Bengali restaurant to kill time and…

Oh really, he said. What did you get?

When my taxes were done, I left without my curry. I saved my dinner to have for lunch the next day.

— Lystria Hurley

I received many emails from readers who read my story.

One reader wrote:

Hello,

If today’s story is yours, it was beautiful. What a sweet and selfless thing to do! You are such a good and kind person. I’m sure you are a phenomenal teacher. The world needs more people like you.

I searched on the name used in the Metropolitan Diary and found your blog. Again, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of your photography and your subject matter. So brilliant!

Thank you for being you!

Stephanie

Another Reader Wrote:

Dear Ms. Hurley,
I read your piece in the Metropolitan Diary this morning and was so warmed by your thoughtful story and brilliant description of your NYC moment.
Thank you so much for sharing with the world.

Sincerely and gratefully, Jolie
New London, New Hampshire

I heard my pastor once say, when God gives you joy, you take it. So I took those notes and printed them out. Pasting them in my journal.

Today I received a package in the mail. Ms. Jolie of New London, New Hampshire, inquired about my book list for my class and brought three books from my wish list. She sent the books with a note that reads:

Hi!

Dear Ms. Hurley,

Here are the books. I hope you and your students enjoy them.

Best Wishes,

Jolie

What I didn’t know was that Jolie worked at a bookstore and what Jolie didn’t know was I am running a free art and race relations summer camp using my own dollars from the school year for funding. I must say that when you cheerfully give, cheer come back to you.

Thank you Ms. Stephine for your kind words and thank you sincerely, Ms. Jolie

Fourth Grade at the Schomburg

Posted on June 25, 2024 by Lystria Hurley

The fourth grade read “The Man who Built a Library” by Carole Boston Weatherford and Eric Velasquez. This gave them insight on historical events and figures such as Benjamin Banneker, Fredrick Douglas and John James Audubon. It also opened them up to a world of history and research.

At the beginning of the year, when educators set a foundation for the rest of the year, is when i introduced the book. During this time, what is said, taught, and done is vital. How it’s said, taught, and done is significant. At the beginning of the book, Schomburg is introduced as a child and eventually he morphs into a man with one main mission and that is to prove that his history, Black history, does exist.

They learned that his books were stored at a research center in the heart of Harlem and are used today by people from all across the globe who are interested in learning about Black history. The Schomburg center is a place of learning and mental growth for all ages.

This will be our last trip class I told them when we finished reading the picture book.

When May came, we took a school bus from the Bronx into Harlem. Reading and reciting Langstong Hughes along the way. Once inside, with a feeling of relief and joy, we started off in the gallery scanning photos taken by Griff Davis. The students knew most of the subjects and looking at images help to give meaning to bigger-than- life figures like Langston Hughes and Dr. King.

The last photo we studied was of Hughes standing amongst students in an auditorium at a school in Georgia.

Through this image they learned of themselves as well as the history of Black Independent schools. They spoke of Thurgood Marshall and the segregation of education.

After the discussion, they were asked to write poetry about Education and what it meant to them. Their work consisted mostly of themes about education and history and society.

The following was written by Zahyra Webley.

The Star in the night

They won’t let my people go to school

I’ll make one.

You won’t make me go to work

I’ll make one.

My people are stars let us be free,

freer than anyone

I will stand up and

do this work for my

PEOPLE!

After hearing them read their poetry, Ms. Hill, the Schomburg’s educational coordinator, lead them through a short libation in the rotunda.

I don’t know what went through their heads knowing that Langston Hughes ashes sat beneath them. They followed her hands as she pointed out the rives that connected us as a people.

She spoke to them about a poem we didn’t cover in class: The Negro Speaks of Rivers

As a close, the students followed her into the auditorium and once situated, they read poetry that they wrote. Some read the poem they worked on in class while others read poetry they wrote in the gallery while looking at the photo of Langston Hughes. One student read of her crush in a whispered giggle that sent off glances through out the room while another read Paul Laurence Dunbar’s “Merry Autumn”. But for the most part all of them read their work.

When I checked their evaluation forms for the trip this is what some of them said:

One of the older teachers at our school grew up and met Langston Hughes when he would visit different schools and this student is curious about the teacher meeting Langston Hughes.

Nia

Posted on June 24, 2024 by Lystria Hurley

Happy Birthday Thembi!

Posted on May 17, 2024 by Lystria Hurley

Happy Birthday to one of my dearest friends and business partner, Thembi.

Once upon a time I taught in a small, tiny classroom in the right wing of the school. Lockers and children crowed the hallways. Parents pushed their contemporary strollers pass my room to the kindergarten and preschool rooms. My room was filled with third graders who rightfully considered themselves older than the young, excited children who looked at my third graders with wonder and respect.

Those hallways took a while to resume to tranquility. There was never a dull moment. All who walked pass wanted to go to the third grade and those in the third grade were popular and most happy.

I was happy too. Young and excited every day about teaching. I taught my children how to bake homemade biscuits and hung their hand made piñatas in the classroom. Their plants sat on each window sill and we read every book we could get our hands on about our history.

Eventually, in that room, walked in classmates from Thembi’s youngest daughter’s class. They all stopped by for a high five. Pretty soon, everyone was slapping fives and when parents would come they had to stop by to slap a five with Ms. Hurley and this is how I eventually met Thembi. By children slapping fives.