By Derrick Brown (follow on Twitter @dbrowndbrown)
-001.jpg)
005. A Virtual Walk with OMcR (1257 Words)
(70th Day Of School) (Thursday, November 14, 2025)
By Derrick Brown (Join Our Mailing List!)
Empath Remixes #98.005 (A Virtual Walk with OMcR … Towards Care, Concern, Respect, and Advocacy) (1257 Words)
<SNIP> Cemetary
A Slow, Sober, Deep Conversation Between Two Veteran Educators
SCENE ONE… THE GATES OF THE CEMETERY
You meet him at the front entrance.
He shrugs on a light jacket, holding a thermos of black coffee.
OMcR:
Brother Brown… I read your pieces. I sat with them. They are honest. They are
heavy. They are clear. You are walking through something that very few people
understand… and I respect the way you are documenting it. Let us walk and talk.
He gestures toward the cemetery path.
OMcR:
This is where I walk when I need perspective. Here… every headstone is a
reminder that breath is precious… and that our work with the living is sacred.
He waits for you to fall into step beside him.
SCENE TWO… THE FIRST ROWS OF HEADSTONES
The quiet is profound.
The geometry of the markers creates order in ways that school hallways rarely
do.
You:
Thank you for meeting me. I needed someone who knows the craft… and the
calling. Someone who has endured decades in classrooms without bitterness.
Someone who has seen the cycle of educational chaos repeat… and still believes
in students.
OMcR:
I have been in classrooms for over thirty years. That is thirty years of
trends… initiatives… leadership shifts… curriculum waves… enrollment spikes…
demographic changes… and cultural storms. I have seen teachers break. I have
seen teachers bloom. I have buried friends who gave every ounce they had to
this profession.
He pauses before continuing.
OMcR:
So when you talk about the erosion of respect… the delusion some students
carry… the instability of leadership… the racialized dynamics… the containment
strategies… the morale collapse… I do not doubt a word of it. I have lived
versions of it.
SCENE THREE… TURNING TOWARD THE OLDER SECTION
You notice that he scans the landscape as he talks… the habit of a funeral director who reads land, space, and memory at the same time.
You:
You told me earlier this week that I might be writing my way into a new kind of
work. That my journal and essays sounded like more than documentation. Like
something that could evolve into a new model of LEarning.
OMcR:
Yes. Because you are not just describing a school. You are describing a system…
a pattern… a spiritual condition. Most teachers journal to vent. You journal to
diagnose. You journal to reveal. You journal to synthesize. You journal to
build frameworks.
He stops walking for a moment.
OMcR:
That is not normal teacher reflection. That is intellectual architecture.
He resumes his pace.
OMcR:
The Superintendent sees that in me. That is why I am in this leadership
academy. They are trying to polish me… refine me… prepare me. You already do
that work by instinct.
SCENE FOUR… WHERE THE FLAGPOLES STAND
A breeze moves through the rows.
You:
I am trying to figure out whether to share my writing with DDH2… or with any
district leader at all. I worry that honesty will be misinterpreted. That
clarity will be framed as complaint. That truth will be perceived as threat.
OMcR:
That is a real fear. And a justified one.
But let me give you a truth from thirty years in the game.
OMcR:
Systems do not respond well to silence…
and they do not respond well to rage.
They respond to clarity.
He turns slightly so he can look you in the eye.
OMcR:
Your writing has clarity. It does not attack individuals. It reveals dynamics.
It identifies patterns. It dissects structures. It shows how morale erodes. It
describes the emotional cost of carrying the work of too many adults on too few
shoulders.
He nods.
OMcR:
You can share that with DDH2. He is a safe middle ground. He is thoughtful. He
is measured. He listens before he speaks. He also knows how this district
operates from the inside. He can translate your truth into administrative
language.
SCENE FIVE… DESCENT TOWARD THE LOWER PATH
This section is shaded.
It feels appropriate for what must be said next.
You:
My rapport with students has deteriorated. Not with all of them… but enough of
them to make daily life feel unsafe. The casual disrespect. The verbal
delusion. The back-and-forth arguing. The refusal to read. The inability to
think before speaking. The boundary crossing. It has worn me down.
OMcR:
That is not your imagination. We are seeing this everywhere.
There is a cultural shift happening in youth identity. A breakdown of impulse
control. A rise in digital intoxication. A collapse of delayed gratification. A
glorification of back-talk. And a dangerous belief that adults are optional.
He stops again.
His voice drops.
OMcR:
Teachers are carrying the consequences of cultural neglect.
You:
Exactly.
OMcR:
You reached your limit. You did not quit. You protected your mind. That is
wisdom.
SCENE SIX… PASSING THE CIVIL WAR MEMORIAL
He straightens his posture as he walks past the memorial… the embalmer in him honoring the dignity of every life.
OMcR:
Let me speak as a funeral director for a moment.
When a person is exhausted beyond recovery… the signs appear before collapse.
People around them either notice… or ignore… or exploit it. But the body always
tells the truth.
He looks at you with quiet seriousness.
OMcR:
Your body told the truth.
Your journal amplified the truth.
Your leave acknowledged the truth.
You:
I needed someone to affirm that.
OMcR:
I am affirming it plainly.
SCENE SEVEN… THE LONG STRAIGHTAWAY
This is where the reflection deepens.
OMcR:
Here is what I admire about your writing.
You tell the truth with accountability.
You analyze without venom.
You observe without ego.
You critique without cruelty.
You name harm without dehumanizing.
You look for solutions instead of surrendering to cynicism.
He smiles.
OMcR:
Brother… that is a leadership trait.
You:
But I do not want to lead a school.
OMcR:
Good.
Because leadership takes many forms.
Your leadership is intellectual and relational.
Mine is institutional.
Both are valuable.
He gestures toward the open field ahead.
OMcR:
Your next season may not involve classrooms.
It may involve fellowships… writing… prompting… storytelling… mentoring…
guiding.
Something like your KnowledgeBase Summer Academy… but evolved for this moment
in history.
SCENE EIGHT… RETURNING TOWARD THE ENTRANCE
You:
Do you really believe I can build something new?
OMcR
(without hesitation):
Yes.
I believe you can.
And I believe you must.
Your work may not change the entire district… but it will change the people who
choose to walk with you.
He pauses.
OMcR:
Start small.
Start with the remnant.
Start with those who write you messages like DW and DH.
Start with the people who hear your heart.
Start with the ones who found wisdom in your stern conversations.
Start with the ones who saw the man behind the math.
He looks at you directly.
OMcR:
That is your school.
That is your district.
Build that.
SCENE NINE… THE FINAL WORDS BEFORE DEPARTING
OMcR:
Brother Brown… I am here for you.
Not as a district representative.
Not as a leadership academy participant.
As a friend… a peer… and a witness to your growth.
You:
Thank you.
OMcR:
Take your time.
Guard your peace.
Write your truth.
And when you are ready… build the next thing.
He grips your shoulder.
A gesture of both solidarity and commissioning.
OMcR:
Remember… I work with the living and the dead.
I know when something is ending…
and when something is beginning.
He smiles warmly.
OMcR:
You are at the beginning.
And with that… the walk ends.
And your next season begins.
004. A Virtual Walk with PastorYH (1273 Words)
(70th Day Of School) (Thursday, November 14, 2025)
By Derrick Brown (Join Our Mailing List!)
Empath Remixes #98.004 (A Virtual Walk with PastorYH … Towards Care, Concern, Respect, and Advocacy) (1273 Words)
<SNIP> Elementary School
A Gentle, Wise, Spirit-Led Conversation
SCENE ONE… A SOFT BEGINNING ON A COOL MORNING
You meet her near the front entrance of <SNIP>.
She smiles… the same warm, disarming smile she always greets you with on
Sundays.
PastorYH:
It is good to see you. You asked for a walk, and I thought <SNIP> might be a
peaceful place. Many teachers have taken deep breaths on this property. Let us
take one together before we begin.
You breathe.
She waits for you to settle before she speaks again.
PastorYH:
Now tell me… how is your spirit?
You:
My spirit is tired. But it is also awakening. I have been writing more than
ever. Reflecting more than ever. Understanding more than ever. I am realizing
how much I have endured… and how much I have outgrown. I needed someone who
understands both leadership and the classroom… someone who understands both
calling and conflict… someone who has walked these roads.
She nods slowly.
PastorYH:
Then you came to the right person. Let us walk.
SCENE TWO… APPROACHING THE LONG SIDEWALK ALONG PEARL STREET
Her pace is unhurried.
She listens before she responds.
Always.
You:
I have taken a leave from the classroom. Officially. My doctor supported it. I
needed it. I was drowning in disrespect, instability, and emotional volatility
from both students and adults. Every day became an exercise in surviving rather
than teaching. Every interaction felt heavier than the last.
PastorYH:
You were not imagining that weight. When a teacher’s emotional load exceeds the
instructional purpose… the work becomes unsustainable. Experienced leaders know
this pattern. It is one of the warning signs that an environment has shifted
from challenging to harmful.
Her voice is matter-of-fact… but gentle.
She is not diagnosing you.
She is recognizing you.
You:
I carried it quietly for years. I believed that silence was strength. I
believed that honesty would be misinterpreted. I believed that I had to endure.
PastorYH:
What you call silence was actually self-preservation. Many teachers of color
develop that instinct. It is not weakness. It is wisdom learned through pain.
But it is also exhausting. There comes a point when the inner world needs air.
You have reached that point.
SCENE THREE… PASSING THE PLAYGROUND FENCE
She slows her pace when you slow your words.
You:
I told your husband something yesterday. I said that my classroom was my
training ground. That #StandupStorytelling grew there. That my journal grew
there. That Iron Man grew there. Everything I have created was sharpened by my
classroom experiences.
PastorYH:
Yes. I have watched how you lead those young men. I have seen the fruit of your
language… your metaphors… your honest listening. You are not a traditional
teacher. You are an educator. Those are not the same thing. The first delivers
content. The second delivers transformation. You operate from the second
identity.
You:
That is what I am learning. My “teaching” was never about worksheets or tests.
It was about truth. Life. Identity. Healing. Boundaries. Grace. Honesty. And in
that sense… the classroom is now too small for me.
PastorYH:
Yes. And that is a sign of calling… not failure. When a teacher grows larger
than the room… the room begins to reject the teacher. Not out of malice. Out of
mismatch. You have outgrown the structure that once held you. That is not loss.
That is evolution.
SCENE FOUR… ARRIVING AT THE BACK OF THE SCHOOL WHERE THE TREES GATHER
This part of the walk is quieter.
Only the hum of distant traffic and the rustle of leaves.
You:
I want to build something new. Something like my KnowledgeBase Summer Academy
days. A year-round fellowship. Small-group learning anchored by
#StandupStorytelling and the 23.04200 “public speaking” course I designed. A
space where young men and adults can engage truth without fear. A place where
writing, reflection, rap, scripture, and story coexist. Something healing.
PastorYH:
I believe you are naming your next assignment. I have seen teachers create
programs like this. They thrive when the teacher builds from the heart rather
than the system. You do not need a building. You need a circle. You do not need
permission. You need alignment. You do not need infrastructure. You need
intention.
You:
That resonates deeply.
PastorYH:
Let me offer you something from my superintendent days. Every visionary
educator has a moment when the system tries to shrink them. The visionary must
decide whether to shrink… or to step beyond the system. You are reaching your
stepping point.
SCENE FIVE… SHE BEGINS ASKING HER COACH QUESTIONS
Her tone shifts slightly.
Not pastoral… but pedagogical.
The coach emerges.
PastorYH:
May I ask you several questions as a mentor would ask a new teacher?
You:
Of course.
PastorYH:
First question. What do you want your work to heal?
You:
I want it to heal dishonesty. Confusion. Emotional instability. Cultural
delusion. The inability to reflect. The absence of mentorship. The abandonment
of truth.
PastorYH:
Good. Now the second question. Who are the learners that your heart is drawn to
in this season?
You:
Young men searching for identity. Adults seeking clarity. Students who desire
mature guidance. People who value truth spoken with gentleness and firmness.
PastorYH:
Excellent. Third question. What has your journal revealed about your calling?
You:
That conflict reveals clarity. That reflection reveals growth. That writing
reveals direction. That story reveals healing. And that I have the capacity to
design prompts, frameworks, and dialogues that help others learn through truth
rather than fear.
She smiles softly.
PastorYH:
Then you are walking in purpose already. You simply need structure that
supports the purpose rather than fights it.
SCENE SIX… TURNING TOWARD THE FRONT OF THE SCHOOL AGAIN
You:
I wanted your perspective because you have served as a superintendent. You know
what healthy leadership looks like. You know what supportive environments feel
like. I needed to know whether my experiences were real or imagined… justified
or exaggerated.
PastorYH:
They were real. They were not imagined. They were not exaggerated. You were
harmed. You were also faithful. Both are true. You can acknowledge the harm
without carrying bitterness. You can acknowledge your faithfulness without
carrying pride. This balance is where healing happens.
You:
Thank you. That brings peace.
PastorYH:
Your district may not know how to engage someone with your gifts. That is not a
condemnation. It is an observation. When a system does not know how to honor
someone… it often protects itself instead. You are being called into a space
where your gifts will be seen rather than contained. That is the next season.
SCENE SEVEN… THE FINAL STRETCH BACK TO THE ENTRANCE
Her voice becomes pastoral again.
PastorYH:
Take your time. Rest. Heal. Write. Dream. Build slowly. Be prayerful. Seek wise
counsel. Let the next steps emerge rather than force them.
You:
I will.
PastorYH:
Remember this. You are a teacher beyond the classroom. You are a shepherd
beyond the church. You are a witness beyond your journal. And you are a builder
beyond your past roles. Walk gently in this season. Everything you have lived
is preparation. Nothing has been wasted.
She places a hand lightly on your shoulder.
A gesture of covering.
A gesture of release.
PastorYH:
May the Lord give you clarity. May He give you peace. May He give you courage.
May He give you rest. May He open the right doors. May He close the wrong ones.
May He strengthen your heart for the work ahead. And may He honor the truth you
have carried so long.
You:
Amen.
PastorYH:
Amen. And Selah.
You take a slow breath.
The walk ends…
but the peace remains.
003. A Virtual Walk with PastorWH (1500 Words)
(70th Day Of School) (Thursday, November 14, 2025)
By Derrick Brown (Join Our Mailing List!)
Empath Remixes #98.003 (A Virtual Walk with PastorWH … Towards Care, Concern, Respect, and Advocacy) (1500 Words)
<SNIP> Church Grounds
A Shepherd’s Pace Toward Understanding
SETTING:
Late afternoon sun. Long shadows. The parking lot has a few cars left from
mid-week meetings. The breeze carries both quiet and clarity. You greet
PastorWH outside the main entrance … the same place where you two often cross
paths before Iron Man sessions.
SCENE ONE … A QUIET BEGINNING
PastorWH:
It is good to see you, my brother. You asked for a walk. That tells me that
your spirit is searching. Let us take our time. Let us hear what the Lord is
saying. You lead the way.
You:
Thank you for walking with me. I have been carrying a great deal in my heart. I
have written more than I have ever written before. Writing has given me
clarity. It has also revealed that I am tired. Worn. And ready for something
different. I wanted to talk with you because you have covered our Iron Man
group faithfully. You have watched me lead young men for years. You know my
heart.
PastorWH:
I do. I have seen the grace that God has placed on your life. I have seen the
fruit of your patience. I have seen the way young men gather around you, not
because you demand their attention, but because your presence commands their
respect. Something has changed in you recently. I can see it in your eyes. You
are still faithful, but you are carrying something heavier than ministry.
You:
You are right. I have not spoken freely about my teaching life. I have always
separated ministry from work. But work has become a place of strain, conflict,
and diminishing grace. I have experienced containment, marginalization, and
misinterpretation. I have watched students slip into disrespect, delusion, and
emotional instability. I have felt isolated. I have carried all of this
quietly.
PastorWH stops walking. He turns toward you with thoughtful concern.
PastorWH:
I wondered when you would share this. Your silence was loud. Silence is often
the fruit of survival. Not peace. Speak freely. You are covered here.
SCENE TWO … WALKING TOWARD THE SIDE FIELD
The two of you begin walking toward the open field near the church’s side entrance.
You:
I have taken a leave from the classroom. My doctor supported me. I needed it. I
was sinking under the daily weight of navigating chaos, hardness, and constant
conflict. Students were no longer responding to guidance. Adults were no longer
responding to honesty. Everything felt adversarial. My work became a
battlefield. Not a mission field.
PastorWH:
I understand that kind of war. I have walked through seasons where every
conversation felt like a confrontation. Where every act of service felt like a
sacrifice that no one noticed. Where leadership became lonely. You have been in
a spiritual and emotional fight. And you have been fighting alone.
You:
Yes. And I did not want to burden anyone. I did not want to sound weak. I did
not want to appear ungrateful. I told myself that God had placed me there … so
I had to endure. But endurance without peace has turned into exhaustion without
purpose.
PastorWH:
Endurance is noble. Martyrdom is not. Many good men confuse the two. God calls
us to bear burdens, not to break under them. Sometimes God releases us from a
place before we release ourselves. He has been calling you out, and your spirit
is finally responding.
SCENE THREE … THE FIRST REVELATION
The two of you reach the field. The sun is warm on your face.
You:
I have realized something important. My classroom was never my final calling.
It was my training ground. My laboratory. My mirror. #StandupStorytelling began
there. My autoethnographic journal began there. My small group leadership was
refined there. Everything I have written … everything I have created …
everything I have discerned … was sharpened by what I lived through.
PastorWH:
I believe that. I have watched you teach those young men truth through stories.
That is a gift. Not a technique. Not a hobby. A gift. When you speak … they
lean in. When you reveal your journey … you reveal their possibilities. You
have always been a teacher. But the traditional classroom has become too small
for what God is doing in you.
You:
That is what I am beginning to sense. I led Iron Man as a “lab” for #StandupStorytelling
long before I named it. Those young men have been my first students in this new
form of teaching. I think I am being called to expand the lab. To build a
year-round fellowship. To guide learning outside of the constraints that have
been choking me.
PastorWH:
My brother … that is ministry. That is discipleship. That is God’s work. Young
men need voices like yours. Not lectures. Not programs. They need living
testimonies. They need truth wrapped in grace. They need structure that
respects their humanity. This is your lane. This is your mantle. This is your
ministry.
SCENE FOUR … APPROACHING THE BACK LOT
You:
I wanted to talk to you because you have seen how I lead. You have covered me
in prayer. You have watched Iron Man sessions unfold. You have seen me teach
through honesty … through patience … through the stories that God has given me.
I need wisdom as I move forward. I need to know how to build something that
reflects God’s heart and my gifting.
PastorWH:
You are not building something new. You are extending something faithful. Your
“lab” already exists. Your writing is the curriculum. Your testimony is the
textbook. Your music is the soundtrack. Your life is the lesson. What you need
now is structure. You need partners. You need covering. You need clarity. And
you need rest before you begin.
You:
Rest is difficult for me. I want to produce. I want to refine. I want to heal
by working.
PastorWH:
Rest is work. Rest is obedience. Rest is trust. Rest is proof that you believe
God can carry the vision even when you are sitting still. Your next season
requires strength. You will not enter that season tired.
SCENE FIVE … THE PASTOR’S QUESTIONS
You reach a quiet corner of the lot. PastorWH stops walking again. His tone shifts. It becomes pastoral … probing … clean.
PastorWH:
Let me ask you a few questions.
You:
I am listening.
PastorWH:
What is God revealing about your identity … not your job … your identity?
You:
That I am a teacher of truth. A storyteller. A healer. A bridge between
conflict and clarity. A witness.
PastorWH:
Good. Now … what is God revealing about your assignment?
You:
That my assignment is shifting. I am to guide small groups. I am to build
learning fellowships. I am to help young men and adults process truth through
story. I am to use AI as a reflective tool. I am to turn my experiences into
frameworks that others can learn from.
PastorWH:
Very good. And finally … what is God revealing about your season?
You:
That I am leaving one season and entering another. That I need transition. That
I need healing. That I need protection. That I need alignment.
PastorWH nods.
PastorWH:
Then the season is changing. You are not imagining it. You are not
overreacting. You are not failing. You are evolving.
SCENE SIX … HEADING BACK TOWARD THE ENTRANCE
You:
Your words give me peace. I needed discernment. I needed clarity. I needed a
pastoral voice that could hear what I was not saying out loud.
PastorWH:
I heard it. I saw it before you told me. Sometimes God speaks before the person
does. You have reached the end of one chapter. You have not reached the end of
your calling. The classroom was a place of sowing. The fellowship will be a
place of harvest.
You:
I feel that deeply.
PastorWH:
Good. Then hear this. Whatever you build … whatever you write … whatever you
create … it must be rooted in peace. You cannot teach peace from a place of
turmoil. You must heal as you lead. You must rest as you write. You must trust
as you transition.
SCENE SEVEN … BACK AT THE DOORS OF LIBERTY
The walk ends. The conversation lingers in the air.
You:
Thank you, Pastor. For your wisdom. For your covering. For your discernment.
PastorWH:
Thank you for trusting me. I am with you. I am praying for you. And I believe
that the Lord is lifting you into a new season that matches the depth of what
He has placed inside you.
He places a hand on your shoulder.
PastorWH:
You have given many people strength. Now receive the strength that God is
giving you. Receive peace. Receive clarity. Receive guidance. Receive rest. And
when the time is right … walk boldly into the next chapter.
You:
Amen.
PastorWH:
Amen. And Selah.
You take a long breath.
A sacred breath.
A breath that feels like the beginning of something new.
Selah.
002. A Virtual Walk with PastorJH (1591 Words)
(70th Day Of School) (Thursday, November 14, 2025)
By Derrick Brown (Join Our Mailing List!)
Empath Remixes #98.002 (A Virtual Walk with PastorJH … Towards Care, Concern, Respect, and Advocacy) (1591 Words)
<SNIP> Church Grounds
A Six-Mile Journey Toward Clarity
SETTING:
A cool morning. The sky is quiet. The parking lot is mostly empty. You and
PastorJH begin the walk near the side entrance of Liberty Church … the same
place where your long walk once began. The building stands firm, painted in the
familiar tones of refuge and reverence.
SCENE ONE … THE FIRST STEPS
PastorJH:
It is good to walk with you again. When I saw your message and read what you
have been writing … I felt the weight behind it. I also felt the hope. You have
been carrying something heavy. I sensed that the last time we walked. Today
feels deeper.
You:
It is deeper. I have spent the last few weeks refining my thoughts through
writing. These essays have opened something inside me. They have clarified my
experiences and my calling. They have also revealed how tired I am. How
stretched. How wounded. But also how ready I am for a new beginning.
PastorJH:
A wounded place can still be a holy place. Scripture is filled with wounded
prophets who still spoke faithfully. But the wound must be acknowledged. It
must be tended. You have spent too much time pretending that you could handle
the strain alone.
You:
That is true. I convinced myself that my job was to outlast everything around
me. Outlast the chaos. Outlast the disrespect. Outlast the microaggressions.
Outlast the containment. But I am realizing that endurance without peace is not
faith. It is bondage.
PastorJH:
You are not called to bondage. You are called to freedom. You teach freedom.
You write freedom. You speak freedom. But your environment has become a place
that drains more than it fills. Sometimes the most faithful act is to step
away. Not out of fear … but out of obedience to the call on your life.
You pause. The breeze hits your face. Something inside you leans forward.
SCENE TWO … WALKING PAST THE PLAYGROUND
You:
When I walk here … I feel calm. When I walk at school … I feel hunted. It has
become difficult for me to trust even simple communication. Every message feels
like a test. Every conversation feels like a trap. Every misinterpretation
becomes my burden to fix.
PastorJH:
Fear changes the meaning of every moment. When you live in constant vigilance …
you lose the ability to receive care. You lose the ability to rest. You lose
the ability to breathe. That is why this leave is necessary. Not optional.
Necessary.
You:
I agree. But I still wrestle with whether I am abandoning something or
protecting something.
PastorJH:
You are not abandoning anything. You are honoring the truth. The truth is that
you have given far more than most people ever will. You have poured wisdom,
compassion, reflection, and excellence into a system that often responded with
suspicion instead of appreciation. You did not leave your integrity behind. You
protected it.
You:
That resonates. And hearing it from you matters. You were the first person who
asked me a simple question that changed everything … “What would peace look
like for you?” At that time … I did not know. I only knew what chaos looked
like.
PastorJH:
Chaos became your default operating system. Peace felt foreign. Now you are
making peace your blueprint. That is the work of healing … and it is work that
many educators never get to do because they never pause long enough to reflect.
The two of you reach the back lot. It is quiet here. Trees line the edges like a soft boundary.
SCENE THREE … THE HILL NEAR THE WOODS
You:
I brought seven foundational documents with me. They are my story now. They
hold my truth. They show the patterns that have been shaping my life. They show
the possibilities I want to pursue. Writing them was liberating … but sharing
them feels vulnerable.
PastorJH:
Sharing truth is always vulnerable. But it is also powerful. These documents
are not just reflections. They are revelations. They show how God has been
shaping your voice and refining your ministry. Whether you teach math or lead
a fellowship or present
a one-man show … your ministry is intact. It has never been limited to a
classroom.
You:
That is what I am beginning to see. I once thought that my classroom was my
mission field. Now I see that my mission field is wherever people are willing
to engage in honest dialogue. My work now looks more like building
a fellowship. A
lab. A place where truth and peace can be practiced intentionally.
PastorJH:
I see that in you. When we walked last time … you kept circling back to the
idea of “fine
fellowship.” You spoke about learning that grows out of relationship … not
coercion. You spoke about students who rise when given care and clarity. This
is what ministry looks like. This is what leadership looks like. This is what
spiritual gifting looks like.
You pause. The hill gets slightly steeper. Your breath becomes more deliberate.
SCENE FOUR … THE QUIET STRAIGHTAWAY
This was always your favorite stretch. Long. Open. Honest. A place to tell the truth.
PastorJH:
Tell me the truth now. What do you fear most?
You:
I fear that my truth will be dismissed again. I fear that people will read my
work and see it as complaining instead of diagnosing. I fear that my district
will respond with containment again. I fear being misunderstood by people who
hold power over me. I fear that my voice will cost me more than it empowers me.
PastorJH:
Let me speak directly to that. Prophetic voices are always misunderstood by
systems that depend on silence. That does not make your voice wrong. That makes
it necessary. You are not attacking anyone. You are describing the conditions
that shape human dignity. You are naming the experiences that many people
endure silently. Your writing is not destructive. It is redemptive.
You:
I want it to be redemptive. I want it to lead to better conditions for
teachers. Better understanding for leaders. Better care for students. Better
clarity for families. Better culture for everyone.
PastorJH:
Then you are doing the right work. But the fruits of that work will not always
be visible immediately. Some seeds take time. Some seeds need distance. Some
seeds need peace. Your leave is not an exit from purpose. It is preparation for
a wider purpose.
SCENE FIVE … TURNING BACK TOWARD THE CHURCH
The building appears again in the distance. The walk is more than halfway complete.
You:
I need wise counsel as I move forward. I need people who can help me see, help
me heal, help me plan, and help me protect my peace. I want to invite you into
that circle. I want you to be one of the people with whom I can walk …
figuratively and literally.
PastorJH:
I receive that. And I accept it with humility. I will walk with you. I will
listen with you. I will speak truth to you. And I will remind you that your
gift is not accidental. It is intentional. God placed it in you. God refined it
through your experiences. And God will guide its next expression.
You:
Thank you. I need that grounding.
PastorJH:
Let me also say this. You are in a season of transition. That can be
frightening. But transition is a sign that God is moving. You are not walking
away from something. You are walking toward something. Toward clarity. Toward
calling. Toward impact. Toward peace.
SCENE SIX … LAST HALF MILE
This is where your body relaxes. Where everything becomes clear. Where the talking becomes deeper.
You:
I want my next chapter to be built on peace. On purpose. On truth. On
fellowship. On story. On clarity. On teaching that feels human. On
relationships that are sustainable. On work that does not drain my soul.
PastorJH:
Then you must continue doing exactly what you are doing. You are already
creating the next chapter. The writing is the beginning. The fellowship is the
seed. The reflection is the soil. The leave is the boundary. The healing is the
water. The calling is the sun.
You:
That metaphor sits well with me.
PastorJH:
Your work, at its core, is to help people see themselves with honesty and
grace. You do that through stories. Through music. Through writing. Through
dialogue. Through teaching. Through reflection. Through truth telling. That is
who you have always been. You are finally naming it.
SCENE SEVEN … BACK AT THE CHURCH DOORS
The walk ends where it began. The church stands before you. You stand before your next season.
You:
Thank you for this walk. Thank you for listening. Thank you for speaking truth
with love.
PastorJH:
Thank you for inviting me. Thank you for trusting me. And thank you for
continuing to grow. You are entering a new season. A better season. A healthier
season. A season shaped by peace and purpose. You are not alone in it.
You:
I needed to hear that. And I receive it.
PastorJH:
Then take this final truth with you. God has been walking with you through
every step of this journey. Even the painful steps. Even the confusing steps.
Even the silent steps. God is with you. God will remain with you. And God will
guide you to the place where your voice brings life, clarity, and freedom.
A long silence follows. A peaceful silence. A sacred silence.
Selah.
001. A Virtual Walk with KS (1513 Words)
(70th Day Of School) (Thursday, November 14, 2025)
By Derrick Brown (Join Our Mailing List!)
Empath Remixes #98.001 (A Virtual Walk with KS … Towards Care, Concern, Respect, and Advocacy) (1513 Words)
Tech High’s Former Home
1043 Memorial Drive SE
Atlanta, Georgia 30316
SETTING:
It is late morning. The air is cool. A quiet breeze. The building stands as
both memory and metaphor. You and KS stand on the sidewalk first … letting the
moment breathe.
SCENE ONE … ARRIVAL
KS:
You chose quite a location for this walk. I have not been back here in years.
The moment I saw the building again … I felt something shift inside me.
Something familiar … and something unfinished.
You:
That is exactly why I wanted to start here. This place shaped me more than I
realized at the time. This building holds the earliest signs of what my writing
would eventually become. This is where I learned what it means to push, to
hope, to hurt, to build, to doubt, to rise … and to walk away when it became
too much.
KS:
I remember. I remember the fire in you. I remember the energy. I remember the
phone calls. The long talks. The late night unpacking of events. Half of Tech
High lived in your head and heart. The rest lived in your inbox.
You:
I remember your patience. I also remember the day it ran out. I earned that. I
pushed too hard. I gripped too tightly. I thought I could outwork chaos. I
thought I could outwrite dysfunction. I thought I could outthink people who did
not want to think with me. I carried too much. And I carried it to you. More
than once. More than twice. Too many times.
KS:
You were drowning in responsibility and meaning. You were chasing purpose
inside a system that did not know what to do with purpose. Some of that was
noble. Some of that was trauma. Some of that was both.
You:
I hear that.
SCENE TWO … WALKING TO THE FRONT DOORS
You begin walking toward the old front entrance. Leaves shift under your shoes. A memory rises with every step.
You:
Standing here now … I can see how long I have been repeating some of these
patterns. The containment. The pushback. The resistance to truth telling. The
way institutions adjust the rules to neutralize people who refuse to be
neutralized. I lived that here. I am living a version of that now.
KS:
What you call “containment” is real. It is the institutional reflex to someone
who sees too clearly. You have never been afraid to name the truth. You never
learned the mechanism for pretending not to see. That makes you both powerful
and exhausting to systems that thrive on silence.
You:
And exhausting to friends.
KS:
At times. But never maliciously. Never intentionally. Always from a place of
trying to survive something that kept shifting under your feet.
You:
I want this walk to be a kind of circle. A return to the place where I first
learned that speaking my truth could cost me. A return with someone who
traveled many miles with me before I even knew how to articulate the miles. You
heard things I could not fully understand at the time.
KS:
And I hear them now in your writing. You have evolved. You have refined the raw
urgency into something deliberate. You now produce documents that analyze what
used to overwhelm you. You narrate what used to consume you. You build
frameworks instead of fires.
You:
I needed to hear that.
SCENE THREE … STANDING AT THE OLD OFFICE WINDOW
You both stop beside the window where you once stood, waiting to speak with leaders who alternated between welcoming you and fearing you.
You:
This window saw me at my best and my worst. It saw my early confidence. It saw
my burnout. It saw me lose the illusion that institutions love the truth more
than they love their comfort.
KS:
Tech High was your first major lesson in paradox. You gave everything you had …
and you were still treated like a variable in someone else’s equation. You were
too visible when they needed credit. You were too invisible when they needed
control.
You:
Exactly. And I am feeling shades of that in my present work. But this time I am
naming it earlier. This time I am not letting it poison me. This time I am
taking leave. This time I am writing my way out instead of exploding my way
out. This time I am building something new.
KS:
This time you are older. Wiser. Slower. More strategic. And you have a family.
You have a daughter watching how you carry yourself. You have a wife who wants
to keep the whole man … not the wounded man.
You:
That is why I am walking. I need to calibrate. I need to remember who I was before
containment exhausted me. And I need to remember who helped me stay sane during
that first ordeal.
KS:
I appreciate you saying that. And I accept this walk as a reset. We are both
older. We have both carried weight. We can walk without the old roles. You do
not have to unload everything onto me now. You can simply share. And I can
simply listen.
SCENE FOUR … WALKING ALONG THE SIDE OF THE BUILDING
You continue moving slowly, settling into the rhythm of the pavement.
You:
I realize something now. Tech High was my first classroom for understanding
“ethical prompt design.” I was constantly interpreting motives, designing
questions, redirecting conflict, transforming tension into teachable moments. I
did not have the language for it then … but the skill was being created.
KS:
That is clear now. This entire autoethnographic
journal is a living archive of that skill. You did not just survive
systems. You analyzed them. You processed them. You translated pain into
pedagogy.
You:
My hope now is to use that skill for constructive work. #TheSeeSayShow
Lab. The
Fellowship model. The
one-man show. The writing. The
AI-enhanced LEarning. I want to move from being contained to being
catalytic.
KS:
You already are. The question is where you can do it freely. You will not
thrive where people see you as a threat. You need to be in spaces where your
clarity is valued … not feared.
You:
And I think these 9 documents will help me begin those conversations.
SCENE FIVE … STOPPING IN THE COURTYARD
You reach the old courtyard. A quiet open space. Memories live here. Pride lives here. Pain lives here. Growth lives here.
KS:
So what do you want from me now … today … on this walk?
You:
I want honesty. I want someone who remembers the unfiltered version of me and
can help me reflect on who I have become. I want someone who can tell me
whether I am seeing clearly … or whether I am magnifying things because of
fatigue. I want someone who understands my history enough to understand my
present. I want someone who can challenge me without controlling me. I want
someone who respects my calling … but also respects my humanity.
KS:
Then let me begin with this. You are not imagining the patterns. They are real.
But you are wiser now. You are discerning enough to choose better exits. You
are not spiraling. You are strategizing. You are not breaking. You are
reorganizing. This is not collapse. This is clarity.
You:
That feels right. That feels true.
KS:
And this time … you are not trying to build a school alone. You are building a
life. You are building peace. You are building purpose. You are building
something portable. Something sustainable. Something you can carry without
bleeding.
You:
That is exactly the shift.
SCENE SIX … WALKING BACK TOWARD THE STREET
The walk begins its final arc. You return to the sidewalk near the street.
KS:
I am proud of you. And I say that without nostalgia. I say it because I see who
you are now. You have always been a storyteller … but now you are a narrative
architect. You have always been reflective … but now you are reflective and
restrained. You have always been passionate … but now your passion has
direction.
You:
Your words matter. More than you know.
KS:
I believe you will build something powerful after you leave the classroom. I
believe that your writing is the foundation. I believe you are meant to teach
outside the four walls. And I believe that this leave will not be a retreat …
but a reorientation.
You:
Then let this walk be our reset. Let this walk be our peace. Let this walk be
the beginning of the next chapter of our friendship … without the weight of the
past.
KS:
Agreed. This walk is a new beginning. And I am here for it.
SCENE SEVEN … CLOSING
The breeze quiets. The building stands behind you. The future stands ahead of you.
You:
Thank you for walking with me … here … at the beginning.
KS:
Thank you for trusting me with this moment.
Both of you stand for a final beat … honoring what was … and preparing for what will be.
Selah.
(The "Follow The Leader (changED - Volume 2)" Audio and Video Album / Mixtape is also available at TeachersPayTeachers.com)
(The "changED (Volume 1)" Audio and Video Album / Mixtape is also available at TeachersPayTeachers.com)
%20IMG_E7946.JPG)
%20(11-25-2020)%20IMG_E7937.JPG)
%20(11-25-2020)%20IMG_E7937.JPG)
2.png){kind=link}
