Commentary

For several weeks I have been researching a commentary, working title, “Should state schools superintendent Mohammed Choudhury stay or go?” And in a submission I sent in this week, I attempted a balanced analysis of his controversial two years in office. He (by July 1) and the State Board of Education (by no later than around September 30) must declare whether they are interested in renewing his contract, which expires in June 2024.

I am a pediatric psychologist working with youth who have chronic illnesses in Baltimore, a city with generations of disinvestment and trauma. The past four years have been marked by a notable increase in the number of children referred to me with psychological distress that is worsening their physical and emotional well-being. What started as a relatively lengthy waitlist, has evolved into a seemingly endless list of patient names.

At the funeral of a colleague who died young, the priest felt it important to warn the non-Catholics in attendance that they were forbidden to take Communion with the rest of us. The admonition was not gentle, it was crisp. And disgusting. How could a priest be so unwelcoming, officious and doctrinaire at a time when so many friends of the young woman had gathered to mourn her death? It was hard to imagine Jesus citing the house rules in opening remarks to those who had just lost a sister, daughter and companion.

Despite the myriad challenges facing public education as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic and widening inequality, in Maryland there is a sense that the future looks bright. That optimism is largely due to the Blueprint for Maryland’s Future, a broad-based strategy to improve educational outcomes in the state. I, for one, am excited to witness the ascendance of public education in our state as my two young children become school-aged in the coming years.

Baltimore, a city nestled in the Northeast megalopolis [but not the DMV] and defined by its four-one-oh, four-four-three, and six-six-seven zip codes, holds a special place in the hearts of residents who have had or are having the privilege to come of age here. Though not always spangled, the city’s grit and charm, combined with its upscale crab shacks, row homes, and the wide expanse of the inner harbor, make it a beloved home.

Nearly 40 years ago, a series of lawsuits were filed by the U.S. Department of Justice and civil rights advocates against Eastern Shore towns and counties with a history of voter discrimination. All of the towns had deep segregationist roots, and all had failed to elect Black candidates to public office, despite having significant number of African American residents.

I knew him for no more than 15 minutes. Maybe 20, tops. He was a clerk at a Canton cellphone store where a friend was inquiring about changing carriers. I just waited in the corner for her, scrolling the internet on my iPhone, while my kid played with a tablet on display. All I knew about him was that he was friendly, efficient and had gloriously thick black hair swirled high in front, like a stylish modern bouffant.

Fort Detrick is a somewhat problematic neighbor for our community. It’s a huge boon to our economy, a job creator and a partner on civic endeavors, but at the same time, it’s a worrisome home to laboratories handling all kinds of scary materials. This reality was brought home again recently by the publication of a new book that lays out new details about a disturbing incident.