by Jessica Royer Ocken

SEKOU ROBERTSON AND BRYAN JACKSON met at summer orientation before their first year at the University of Minnesota. In the 10 years since, their education and career paths have intertwined while their friendship has grown. They credit their camaraderie and the College of Education and Human Development with getting them where they are today. But when they met, neither would have imagined ending up in the classroom.

Alumni Bryan Jackson (left) and Sekou Robertson reflect on their
hometown of Chicago.

Robertson started college studying computers, but found his niche in education after volunteering as a tutor. He transferred to CEHD during his sophomore year.

Jackson chose Minnesota for its architecture program. After discovering that he enjoyed teaching complex concepts to children—a requirement in one of his architecture classes—he decided to teach a summer class on the science behind architecture. He still recalls his lesson on “cookie tectonics,” using graham crackers and whipped cream to explain plate tectonics. Soon he joined Robertson in CEHD. “It was hard at first,” he says. “But it was definitely my calling.” Education classes helped broaden Jackson’s perspective from the structured approach he took in architecture. (“Even now I’m drawn to linear design,” he says. “All my ties are stripes.”) “I began to understand that education is driven by the teacher but supported by the student,” Jackson explains. “My creativity grew immensely.”

After graduating in 2002 with their bachelors in elementary education foundations, the friends set off for New York and Columbia University’s Teachers College, where future CEHD Dean Darlyne Bailey was academic dean at the time. Their University of Minnesota experiences had prepared them well for the rigors of graduate school, they recall. “Coming in, I knew teaching, child psychology, how to write a lesson plan, how to assess students,” says Robertson.

They also brought with them an understanding of the difference between a teacher and an educator. “A teacher can show you how to ride a bike,” says Jackson. “But an educator instills the value of knowing how to do it when you leave the classroom.”

After completing Columbia’s two-year M.A. program for elementary education in just nine months, both Jackson and Robertson ended up teaching in Chicago—though in very different schools. Jackson teaches third grade at The Latin School, a venerable independent school on the Near North Side. “We have high-profile parents and students, and it’s very different from what I was used to growing up in an urban environment and student teaching in urban schools.”

Yet his skills still apply, and his responsibilities have increased steadily over his four years there. “Being an independent school, [we’re] built around teacher-leaders. A lot of what I do involves curriculum development, nurturing, coaching, and being involved in the Diversity Initiative [a program that ensures classroom curriculum, books, and materials provide a variety of perspectives].”

Robertson had always intended to return to his native Chicago, and he chose LEARN (Lawndale Educational and Regional Network), a Chicago Public Schools-affiliated charter school on the South Side. “There’s a shortage of male teachers, and a deeper shortage of African-American teachers—especially black male teachers in elementary schools,” he says. “I’ve been there five years, and I’m still the only certified black teacher, so I’m an anomaly.”

Though he started in the classroom, over time Robertson advanced to the role of assistant principal in charge of instruction, where he helps determine curriculum. “The administration recognized my brilliance,” he says with a sly smile.

Although their schools are different, Robertson and Jackson support and advise one another. One challenge they share is the need to gain their students’ trust. Robertson’s students come predominantly from low-income families, where siblings or extended family, rather than parents, may be the primary caregivers. “There’s a craving that students have [for trust and stability]. They want to know if you’re going to be there tomorrow.”

Although Jackson’s students are from the opposite end of the financial spectrum, many don’t spend much time with their parents either. “At my school parents may be traveling to Europe, Spain, China, and kids are raised by nannies,” he says. “How do I instill the value of trust in them if their parents are absent?”

The support the friends offer one another is not limited to discussion. Both have spent time at the other’s school. “Sekou interacts with students in a way that [helps them] feel they can be successful,” says Jackson. “When I went into his classroom, all the kids looked me in the eye and shook my hand, same as my kids in my classroom, and I thought, ‘This is a sign of Sekou.’ ”

In chatting with one of the students, Jackson casually showed him how to tuck the tail of his tie into the tag on the back. Since that day, Robertson reports, Dwayne has not once failed to have his neckwear in perfect alignment. “I made it a teachable moment,” Jackson says. And then, exchanging a look, the two note in unison, “Minnesota.”

Last summer Robertson was able to help two LEARN students get into the High Jump program at The Latin School. To make sure they had the support they needed in this new environment, he rode his bike to the school and went to class with them. He also told them about his friend Mr. Jackson. “Kids know; good people know good people,” says Jackson. “We watch out for each other.”

When asked about a lesson to pass along, both Robertson and Jackson urge students of all ages to reach out and find opportunities for networking and connection—like they did. “No matter who these people are, you can learn something from them if you make yourself an absorber,” says Jackson. “Information is free.”

PHOTO: Chris Ocken