The Birth of Baba eric
In July of that year, I had a decent paying job, my own apartment, a little traveling money, and even managed to save. Still, I was demotivated. Working at the homeless shelter had given me the opportunity to pull myself out of homelessness. I put in my 30 day-notice without having secured my next job. I did not know what I would be doing or how I would make it, but I knew that I would be okay. Less than a month later, I was interviewed and hired as a 4th grade math and science teacher at Betty Shabazz International Charter School in Englewood, Chicago. It was at BSIC where I earned the title “Baba,” a West-African term meaning “Father,” and loosely translating to “Born on a Thursday.” Working in an African-Centered school really allowed me to find my voice - and my calling - as a teacher. Halfway through the year, I was transferred to teach middle school history and there, I found my calling. Engaging Black children on topics of Black thought while encouraging the highest order of thinking was a dream come true for me.
I loved teaching. But the swells of teaching and living in Chicago began to catch up with me. By 2016, I had been in education for nearly 10 years at that point. By the end of the semester, I had grown increasingly frustrated with the workload and emotional labor required of teaching. It was also the first time I experienced the effects of my whole wellness suffering as the result of teaching. The toll of living on the block I was living on was starting to take its toll on me. Food, housing, and income insecurity were making teaching no longer fun. It took two unexpected deaths in my building during a physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting last week of school as a sign from God that it was time to move on from Chicago. I resigned from teaching on the last day of the semester and relocated to Florida in the new year. I moved back to Atlanta in February of that year with the intention only being there for just a week. 7 days turned into over 8 months.