Grade 3 to AP: Memoirs of a Black Male Educator


The American public education system is, undoubtedly, a machine. Many would argue its efficiency, but it is a machine nonetheless. Educators and School leaders are the cogs that keep it afloat. Often, this comes at a great deal of expense to those who are on the front lines, serving in our school buildings on a daily basis. What is the nature of this understanding for black educators, considering the historical context of racial inequities in our society? What does this mean for black students? Furthermore, what are the implications for a black male educator who is a product of the public school system himself?Cedric Scott, Jr. is an educator who has served in the District of Columbia Public Schools as a teacher, instructional coach, and Assistant Principal in the elementary education sector. Being a product of the Pittsburgh Public Schools, the author offers his account of matriculation through school as a student and progression as a professional educator, all while navigating life's challenges and what it means to be a young, black male in America. “Grade 3 to AP: Memoirs of a Black Male Educator,” presents a narrative composed of self-realization, opportune circumstance, and deep reflection.

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Author Name : Cedric Scott, Jr.



Book Of The Day

Latest Poem

Countless things put together make us who we are

Perhaps what we’ve learned or things seen near and far

True or false learned from numerous varied sources

Or perhaps something seen travelling many courses


It has been my great pleasure to see some special lands

Majestic mountain vistas, Alberta’s haunting badlands

The vastness of the prairie with horizon never reached

The power of the ocean from a shell strewn beach


I’ve crossed giant rivers, walked beside the babbling brook

Seen the best and worst of nature seldom pictured in a book

The crags of mountain passes, topped by winter’s sparkling load

Miles and miles of wheat the sun and rain has turned to gold.


Acres and acres of deep green peas, topped by the pink of bloom.

Offset in midst of summer with bright yellow canola bloom

A patch-work quilt from nature and the work of many hands

Laid out in squares and diamonds across a great productive land.


The history of Bedford Basin, Louisbourg, Queenston Heights

Twenty four hours of daylight, mysterious northern lights

Beaver pelts to England to make all kinds of hats

And each spring the best of sugar boiled from Maple sap.


A strong beautiful stallion, head high, nostrils flared,

Eyes full of fire and danger as he guards his heard of mares

Several hundred cattle grazing the luscious grass

Or bedded in the shade to let the hot day pass.


Hundreds of pictures we catalogue as we go passing by

Let the good ones erase the bad, or at least let them try

Some of it we saw and some of it we learned.

Some good and some bad but somehow always earned.


There’s always strife and woe, you don’t need to hunt it up

Forget it, let it lay. You know there’s the rub

You may hate this or that but it’s all part of the way

You became who you are; what you are today.

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