Becoming Mr. Lloyd

By Brandon Corley

It was the first day of seventh grade and my first class after lunch was algebra. I lined up in the hallway with my classmates and waited for the teacher to let us in. When the door opened, out stepped Mr. Lloyd.

When I first saw Mr. Lloyd, it didn’t immediately dawn on me why things felt different. He was funnier than other teachers I had. He had a swag about him that wasn’t common to my other experiences with teachers. His class was just different (and in my mind better). Then, many years after leaving his class, it hit me — this was the moment that I finally saw a black male teacher lead a class.

I had some black women as teachers, I had some white males teach me — I even had a few black male subs for a few days. But not until the start of seventh grade did I see a black man in front of the classroom every day. And I wouldn’t see another black male in that position again until I got to my third year of college.

Why is Mr. Lloyd the only teacher I have ever had who looks like me? What about all the other black kids in Chicago — do they not see black men as teachers either?

When I was a senior in high school I had a teacher suggest that I think about teaching math — I picked up the content quickly, I could communicate my thoughts well, I was a leader among my peers. It made sense, except I wasn’t immediately onboard. While I always went to great schools and was an excellent student, I never really thought about leading a classroom.

But the more I thought about it, the more I thought about Mr. Lloyd. I found myself wondering, “Why is Mr. Lloyd the only teacher I have ever had who looks like me? How many of my friends are experiencing the same thing? What about all the other black kids in Chicago — do they not see black men as teachers either?”

That’s why I went into teaching. I wanted to be Mr. Lloyd. I wanted to an example for black boys. I wanted to show that we can be smart and teach too, and hopefully inspire more guys to join me in the field.

Meeting Marcus

Before I became a teacher full time, I worked for the Children’s Defense Fund Freedom School program. This was one of the first times I got to spend a substantial amount of time in front of children and develop my classroom leadership skills. I remember when we were in training and I was told that a boy named Marcus was going to be in my class. This didn’t mean much to me because I didn’t know him, but everyone else had raised eyebrows. I heard a lot of “good luck… be patient…hopefully he won’t do those things again.”

Why me? Why did I have to get this assignment? I asked my director and she was very blunt. “Marcus needs to see you everyday,” she said. “You are the strongest male staff member we have, and if Marcus is going to make it this summer, he has to do so with you.” Wow. That was a lot of pressure. I didn’t even know this kid and I was already responsible for making sure he finished the summer.

But then I started to think, “What will happen to Marcus if he isn’t in my class? What will his experience be like? What can I help him understand about himself and how the world will respond to him?”

I wanted to make sure that kids had schools that knew how to respond to them. I wanted black men to step to the front and be the teachers our communities need.

Marcus and I created a bond that summer. But don’t get it twisted — he drove me crazy. We had some classic battles. But on the last day, we both were in tears because we knew that our time was up. I worried about what would happen to him when he returned to a school where he didn’t have any positive men of color to understand why he acted the way he did; I still wonder what’s become of him, and I hoped even then that he would have a black man at his school to turn to when times got tough.

Marcus, like Mr. Lloyd, had a profound impact on my professional journey. I started that summer wanting to be a teacher and I ended it wanting to do so much more. I wanted to make sure that kids had schools that knew how to respond to them. I wanted to ensure the classroom was a place where kids wanted to be. I wanted black men to step to the front and be the teachers our communities need. I was ready to teach, and I was ready to prepare myself to disrupt a system that was not doing a great job of educating people who looked like me.

It hasn’t been easy. I became a teacher. I became a school designer. I became a school leader. And at each turn, I still was one of a few (if not the only) black men in the room.

Scaling Up

Then I learned about NYC Men Teach. This program had a goal that was familiar — recruit and retain more male teachers of color. I knew that I had to be involved in this mission, and I jumped at the opportunity to assist in the recruitment and development of male teachers of color. I wanted to make sure that not only did schools in New York City have more male teachers of color, but also that these teachers would be prepared to meet the cultural demands of such a diverse student population.

We were ready to work to help these guys not just teach, but be great teachers, and stay in the classroom for an extended period of time. In just two years, we have made a big impact on the system.

The initial goal of NYC Men Teach was to recruit an additional 1,000 males of color to enter the teaching pipeline. We exceeded this goal long before we had planned to, and we’ve done much more: We have supported teachers who have a passion to be leaders to students in the communities they grew up in. We have inspired men of color to pursue roles that had been foreign to them — instructional coaches, department and grade team leaders, lead teachers, staff recruiters and mentors.

We have heard from students who say that until this year, they never had a male teacher of color — and they never had a better teacher.

We see our teachers taking students on their first trips outside their communities. We have heard from students who say that until this year, they never had a male teacher of color — and they never had a better teacher. Students have started to view teachers differently; and hopefully, they are starting to see themselves as people who could become teachers when their time comes.

We have empowered men to be the change they seek. But we aren’t done. We need more men of color as teachers. We need to continue to push for culturally responsive classrooms and schools that respond to behaviors with restoration, not punishment, in the forefront. We need more men of color as school and district leaders, not just in New York City, but across the country.

Because when we have someone like Mr. Lloyd do something as simple as show up for kids every day, we change the mindsets of young people. And when our young scholars get inspired, they can change the world.