Commentary

Hunger is often likened to a wolf at the door — ravenous, dangerous and ever-present. Such a foe can be held at bay for a short periods but often not for long. People who woke up today without the benefit of stocked holiday cupboards, who do not have refrigerators brimming with the makings of Thanksgiving dinner from ready-to-roast turkeys with giblet gravy to green bean casserole, who lack even a few dollars in their pocket to buy enough to tide them over know the wolf lies in waiting. In the field of public health, this is described more exactly as “food insecurity” or the lack of access to a sufficient quantity of affordable nutrition. In Maryland, a state of 6 million people, it is estimated that one out of three people, or 2 million total, qualify as food insecure.

After essentially a year and a half of being online, school has changed. Maryland students returned to in-person school with gaps in their learning and effects on their behavior. And when things change, it’s tempting to cling more tightly to the strategies that we used before, to double down on what used to work. But it is an unfortunate truth that being tough with school discipline without addressing the root issues that lead to student misbehavior won’t fix anything.

Early in my life, I saw first-hand the terrible impact sickle cell disease had on my loved ones. This disease causes chronic, severe pain and lowers life expectancy by up to three decades. Those with it also very often suffer from vision problems, a high risk of stroke, kidney disease, frequent infections, and anemia. Today there are too few treatments for sickle cell, but new gene therapies in clinical trials offer the promise of a cure someday soon.

We justifiably remark about the advancement that Black Marylanders have made in the political arena, most recently with the election of Wes Moore, a Black man, as governor. But like the Sankofa that looks backward as its feet point forward, I draw from the past to guide my enthusiasm and my expectations.

Yana Karp, a native of Ukraine, arrived with her young son in Baltimore 33 years ago, on Thanksgiving Day. They had dinner at the Pikesville home of a relative who had emigrated a decade earlier. “We sat down at the table,” Karp recalls, “and learned how to celebrate this American holiday — hold hands, say words of gratitude and eat turkey with cranberry sauce, which was a new and quite unusual taste for our palates.”

After the shooting at the LGBTQ Club Q in Colorado Springs, Rep. Lauren Boebert (R-Colo.), gun rights advocate and representative for her state’s 3rd Congressional District, tweeted the following: “The news out of Colorado Springs is absolutely awful. This morning the victims & their families are in my prayers. This lawless violence needs to end and end quickly.” In her tweet, Boebert left out the “news” that a lone gunman entered an LGBTQ space and began shooting, killing five and injuring at least 25.

Once upon a time, a young Baltimore writer named D. Watkins happened upon a magical place called Twitter. “It was a space where you could learn, exchange ideas and have a healthy debate,” said Watkins, now a New York Times bestselling author, academic, TV writer and creative in residence at The Baltimore Banner. “There were a whole lot of writers and journalists on there, so many brand-new artists. You could get book deals. I saw dudes from the streets educated on things like LGBTQ issues. These things were happening before your eyes.” But for Watkins, “Twitter hasn’t been that place for a long time.” In fact, the social media giant has become “a filthy pool of disgusting negativity,” he said, where people fight for the sake of fighting, even before the recent purchase of the site by billionaire Elon Musk.

Teachers see some wild behavior in their classrooms. I hear about it all the time — students getting into fights, cursing and smart-mouthing authority figures. Recently, I got to chat with Joyce Abbott, the Philadelphia teacher who is the namesake for the ABC hit TV show “Abbott Elementary,” which was written and produced by Philly’s own Quinta Brunson, who also stars in it. Abbott was Brunson’s sixth-grade teacher. The mockumentary-style comedy series is about life in Philly’s public schools but often ends on a heartwarming note. The reality, of course, is often different. In Philadelphia, the teacher shortage has reached dire proportions; at the beginning of the school year, hundreds of positions were unfilled.