Names have been changed to protect privacy
One day, Miguel got kicked out of class again. As we were face to face in my office, he looked like he'd rather fight me than talk to me. When I asked why he was so angry, he huffed and stammered until finally the real question came out: "How do I talk to a girl?"
I instinctively giggled, and he got embarrassed. He said, "This s**t is stupid. I knew I shouldn't have said anything!" I apologized and said, "Is that why you have been causing trouble in class?" He nodded.
A couple of weeks after we talked, he was walking down the hall holding hands with a girl.
When young men have nowhere to take their questions — about girls, about manhood, about life — they end up following the only models they've been given. They're doing the best they can with fragmented guidance, often trying to father themselves. In our urban schools, too many of our Black and Brown boys know more people in prison than in college.
My school started Men's Group — a targeted intervention that gave young men space to ask their questions and imagine different possibilities. While some still ended up in the system, many showed significant improvements in attendance and engagement.
Men's Group is a highly effective MTSS Tier 2 support that can be replicated in your school with "unreachable" young men. In this piece, I'll share our core philosophy, how we created safe spaces for honest conversation, and our approach to mentorship that helped transform school culture.
Imagining a Better MTSS Tier 2
Many schools use Multi-Tiered Systems of Support (MTSS) to help struggling students catch up with their peers. The idea is simple: screen all students, then provide extra support to those who need it. Typically, a Tier 2 intervention means pulling students out for extra tutoring or having them check in with a counselor.
In my school of 600, I hand-selected 30 of the lowest-performing boys who had no male figure at home, like Miguel. These were the boys who drove teachers crazy, who were leaders but were leading in all the wrong ways. Men's Group wasn't ever going to be a club you could sign up for.
At their age, I too was driving teachers crazy. I was running with the wrong crowd, skipping school, and getting high. But I got lucky. My father came back into my life when I was 13. He wasn't perfect, but he showed me another path was possible. These boys weren't going to get lucky.
When I brought Men's Group to a much larger school of 3,200 students, teachers started sending me referrals. "This one would be good for your Men's Group," they'd say. I always told them, "You can do it too." But most backed away. Not everyone wants a room full of boys everyone else has given up on.
But I'll take that room every time. I can't do everything, but I can do something. And so can you.
Creating Space for "Dumb Questions"
In Men's Group, the questions started small, but they revealed everything. Alex, with one arm shorter than the other, was living in the shadow of his stronger, better-looking brother. Yet somehow he worked up the courage to ask about quinceañera etiquette. "All these forks and s**t...I don't want to look stupid." In a school where these boys would rather fight than appear weak, just asking that question took guts.
"Start from the outside with utensils and work your way in," I told him.
That same principle came back around when Miguel, the angry young man from my opening story, finally admitted he didn't know how to talk to a girl. But that time I flipped the advice: "With girls, you've got to start from the inside — tell her how you feel — and work your way out." The look on his face was pure terror, as if I'd asked him to sing in front of the whole school. But he did it.
These young men often defaulted to what they'd seen — responding to uncertainty with anger, to vulnerability with fists. But in our circle, they could admit what they didn't know, what scared them, what they wanted to understand. They began to see they didn't have to follow the broken models they'd inherited.
Introducing Better Models of Manhood
"Why are you always so mad at us, mister?"
I looked the young man straight on. Clearly, he felt my fear for them. "I'm not mad,” I said. “I'm scared. I've got four years to make up for years of neglect. The math isn't adding up. I'm running out of time."
The boys in Men's Group learned that sometimes love comes out looking like anger or frustration. Sometimes love feels like an a** kicking.
I was clear with the members of Men’s Group; I wasn't there to be their friend. "You've got enough friends," I'd tell them. "I'm a resource. I'm your teacher. I will tell you the truth. I won't clear your path, but I will walk it with you."
I brought in other men to mentor, too. For example, Mr. E came in and spoke about having a daughter when he was just 16 years old. Now he was a dean at our school — scary Mr. E — but he looked these boys in the eye and said, "Every time I say something to you, it's out of love." These boys needed to see different versions of being a man, and they needed to learn how to talk to adults.
We talked a lot about price vs. value. "Those shoes cost $300, a high price but no value. A hug from your mother costs nothing but has great value. My mother is no longer with us, and some days I'd pay any price for one more hug." Whether they remembered me or not didn't matter — these conversations might one day stand between them and their worst decisions and show them another way.
Just like my teacher Mr. McHarg once showed me, authority figures don't have to lord power over kids — they can use it to work with them. These young men needed to see that being a man isn't about the price of your shoes or the power to hurt others; it's about making good decisions, protecting those who need it, and valuing what really matters.
Breaking Cycles, Building Men
At the end of each year, our seniors would get up and leave the Men's Group circle one last time. The empty chairs became a powerful symbol.
"We need to prepare for the ninth graders," I'd tell the remaining group. "We don't know who the new ones will be yet. We don't know their stories, their struggles, their strengths. But we're going to prepare some loving spots for them."
Schools often claim to be "student-centered" or "strengths-based," but they keep pushing out the very young men who need us most. For every Latino in a college dorm, there are three in a cell. I've never heard anybody who went to prison say, "Man, the problem was all the adults in my life loved me too much." It's always the opposite.
Men's Group isn't just another program. It's what a real student-centered practice looks like. It's restorative justice in action. It's trauma-informed care that actually transforms school culture. Educators can enter this work through any of these doors, but you have to enter. Because until we start doing this work, one young man at a time, we'll keep building prisons instead of futures.
These statistics don't have to be our boys' destiny. But we can't wait. Some of these young men come to us after 14 years of neglect or abuse. We might not be able to solve everything, but we can do something. And we must do it now.
Ready to Create Transformative Space for Your Young Men?
I work with schools in two ways.
As a Men's Group Facilitator, I establish and run targeted intervention programs that transform behavior, attendance, and school culture.
As a Professional Development Provider, I train your staff to create and sustain their own Men's Groups, showing them exactly how to build relationships that change lives.
Whether you need hands-on facilitation or want professional development for your staff, I bring 25 years of experience helping schools reach their most "unreachable" young men.
Contact me to explore how we can create this transformative space at your school.
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