It’s common to hear the tale of a young black child as a budding rapper or sports star. Yet in a country where by virtually any measure, black boys fare far worse than their white classmates in school, Stephen’s story stands in high relief.
Which is why his parents, Michelle in particular, have been so intent on telling it. They say it is an antidote to the worn narrative that portrays black boys as classroom underachievers at best, potential criminals at worst. It stokes the debate over the virtues of standardized testing, and is a reminder that schools alone aren’t responsible for educating children.
Most of all, it is a testament to the Staffords’ belief that parents must believe their kids can succeed and push toward that goal, even if it means taking risks and ignoring some conventional tenets of education.
Stephen sees himself as a kid like any other, albeit one who is in college when most children his age are in middle school. Even though he lives at home and sleeps in a bunk bed with Scooby Doo sheets, campus life seems to suit him. Between classes he hangs out with his Morehouse friends debating, among other things, the virtues of PlayStation Portable vs. Nintendo DS. Teachers say he’s engaged in class. But when he toys with the lift on his chair so the seat slides up and down like an amusement park ride, they have to remind themselves: He is still a kid.
