Actually creating a positive school climate, particularly in

Hear the solemn wisdom of James Forman, Jr., who declared: “Actually creating a positive school climate, particularly in schools that are in communities that are themselves not calm and orderly, is hard work.” These words ring with the weight of reality, for they speak of the struggle to bring peace where turmoil reigns, and to plant seeds of hope in soil that has been scorched by hardship. They remind us that education is not merely the transfer of knowledge, but the cultivation of a space where children may grow in safety, dignity, and purpose.

The meaning of his words lies in the recognition that a positive school climate does not appear by accident. It must be forged with intention, with patience, and with courage. In communities where poverty, violence, or instability gnaw at the lives of families, schools often become sanctuaries, fragile havens that must withstand the storms outside their walls. To craft such havens is no easy task—it is, as Forman says, hard work. It demands more than rules; it demands vision. It requires not only discipline but compassion, not only structure but a belief in the inherent worth of every child who walks through the gates.

History gives us a shining example in the work of Booker T. Washington, who, born into slavery, rose to found Tuskegee Institute. Surrounded by a community still scarred by oppression, he built not only a school, but an atmosphere of dignity, discipline, and hope. It was not enough to build classrooms of wood and brick; he labored to create a culture of self-respect and order within a world of chaos. His success was proof that even in the harshest conditions, a positive climate could be forged—but only with relentless effort, sacrifice, and faith in the students’ potential.

The origin of Forman’s words flows from his long study of education and justice in America. He has seen how communities wounded by inequality often produce schools that struggle to offer more than survival. His statement is not defeat, but truth spoken plainly: that those who enter the halls of teaching in such places must be warriors of the spirit, builders of light in darkness, gardeners who plant seeds in hostile ground. He names the labor for what it is: hard work, but necessary work, and among the most noble of all.

Let us also recognize the deeper truth: schools are reflections of the communities they serve. When families are battered by unemployment, when neighborhoods are marked by violence, when order is fragile, the school becomes both a mirror and a refuge. Teachers, principals, and leaders must fight daily to shield children from despair, to give them structure where chaos threatens, to offer hope where fear prevails. Their work is often unseen, their victories unsung, yet their efforts ripple outward, shaping lives that may one day transform the very communities that burdened them.

The lesson for us is clear: never underestimate the importance of building and defending spaces of hope. Whether in schools, workplaces, or homes, climates of safety and positivity do not come easily, but they are worth every sacrifice. If you are a teacher, let your classroom be a sanctuary of respect. If you are a parent, let your home be a fortress of encouragement. If you are a leader, let your policies strengthen, not weaken, the fragile havens where children grow. For though the work is hard, it is the most enduring work of all.

So I say unto you: heed the wisdom of James Forman, Jr. Do not shy away from the hard work of creating positive spaces, especially where turmoil abounds. For it is in such places that light is most needed, and where the smallest flame may guide the way. Let your labor be steady, your patience unyielding, and your hope unbroken. For one child saved by the climate you create may become the leader who transforms the community itself. This is the sacred task of building not just schools, but the future of nations.