(BALTIMORE – July 30, 2026) – I did not know I was economically challenged until I got to Morehouse College.
I simply had a dream.
My counselor at Dunbar High School, Lillian Gundy, looked at me one day and said, “You look like a Morehouse man.”
Then I saw the brochure.
It was a wrap after that. There was nothing else to talk about. I was going to Morehouse.
Just being accepted was rewarding to me. Actually setting foot on that campus became one of the greatest experiences of my life.
I completed three semesters at Morehouse. My mother begged, borrowed, and stole, I imagine, to make it possible for me to go. Education was always a top priority in our household, and sending me to Morehouse was one of the most important decisions ever made for me.
At Morehouse, I met Coretta Scott King. I met brothers from across the country. I met the Spelmanites. I encountered Black brilliance, Black history, Black expectations, and a world much larger than the one I had known in Baltimore.
It was the greatest experience of my life.
I would do it all over again—only a little smarter.
But eventually, I had to face reality: I could not afford it.
It was simply too much.
That did not mean the dream was over. It meant my road would be different.
Seven Schools and One Destination
I stayed on my educational journey. It took me through about seven different schools, including Morgan State University, before I finally earned my bachelor’s degree from Coppin State University.
Years later, Morgan would become the place where I earned my master’s degree. Each institution contributed something important to my journey.
But Coppin was where it all came together for me.
You could not have told me in a million years that I would end up at Coppin.
Coppin was only four blocks from my childhood home on Moreland Avenue, where I lived from about age 9 to 18. My nursery school was farther away.
Understand something: I was a dreamer. I was a visionary.
I was thinking about Tennessee, Florida, and Alabama—not North Avenue. In my mind, college was supposed to take me somewhere far away. I did not yet understand that sometimes God places what you need right in front of you.
During my first semester at Coppin, I learned about the Ronald E. McNair Postbaccalaureate Achievement Program.
That program changed everything.
Ron Collins, Dean T.J. Bryan, Bob Cattaliati, Judith Wilner, Ann Cobb and Ron Nichols were all part of my educational development. They poured knowledge, discipline and expectation into us.
Dean T.J. Bryan worked us like Hebrew slaves—and I thank that woman to this day for everything she did for us.
She made us better.
She made us stronger.
She showed us the ropes and introduced us to academic greatness. She exposed us to scholars such as Dr. Edmonds, who could break down the concept of an outline to its most basic premise and make it understandable.
That is the beauty of the HBCU experience.
I was afforded direct interaction with academic and scholastic greats who, for the most part, looked like me. They saw something in us. They demanded something from us. They did not allow us to settle for mediocrity.
As much as I love Morehouse, Coppin got me across the finish line.
That is a lesson I will never forget.
It Is Not Where You Start
Sometimes we become so attached to a particular school name that we forget the actual goal.
The goal is the education.
The goal is developing the mind.
The goal is finishing.
The goal is becoming equipped to do the work God placed you here to do.
Morehouse gave me the dream. Coppin helped me complete it. Morgan later helped carry me even further.
Every part of that journey mattered.
That is why I tell students: It does not matter where you go nearly as much as what you learn when you get there.
If you have to take what you can get, take what you can get until you can do better. But master what is in front of you.
Do not sit in a classroom looking down on the institution because it was not your first choice. Do not overlook the professors, programs, and opportunities right in front of you because the school is too close to home or does not carry the name you originally imagined.
Coppin was four blocks from my house, but it opened the world to me.
Can Our Children Read?
At the end of the day, education must become a priority in our homes again.
I encourage students of every age to get A’s.
My son and daughter both have three A’s in their names because I wanted them to bring home A’s. And overwhelmingly, they did.
Set the bar high at an early age.
Today, I see young children wearing very expensive clothes and carrying expensive electronic devices. Because I generally like to mind my business, I do not ask the question that enters my mind.
But I am getting a little bolder.
I want to ask: Can they read?
Can they count?
I do not want to embarrass the child or the parents. I am not interested in judging anybody. I am concerned about our future.
In my household, knowing your numbers and letters before age 5 was imperative. By the time you reached kindergarten, you were expected to have mastered them.
We cannot place more value on what our children wear than on what they know.
Designer clothes cannot substitute for literacy. The latest telephone cannot replace the ability to count. Expensive sneakers cannot carry a child where an educated mind can take them.
Education must become sacred again.
Have HBCUs Become Too Expensive?
I love HBCUs. I am a product of three of them: Morehouse, Morgan, and Coppin.
Because I love them, I must tell the truth.
Yes, HBCUs have become unaffordable for many of the Black families they were created to serve.
I know because I lived it.
My inability to remain at Morehouse was not about a lack of intelligence, ambition, or desire. My family simply could not continue paying the cost.
That reality hurt, but it did not defeat me.
Today’s students are confronting the same painful situation on a much larger financial scale. They can work hard, earn good grades, gain admission to the school of their dreams and still discover that admission does not mean they can afford to attend.
That is not merely a student problem. It is an institutional problem, a public-policy problem and a Black community problem.
HBCUs must examine their tuition, fees, housing expenses, administrative practices and financial-aid systems. Government must address the historic underfunding that has left these institutions without the endowments and financial cushions enjoyed by many predominantly White universities.
Alumni, corporations and philanthropists must also do more to help close the gap.
But students must understand something, too: One school does not own your dream.
If the road changes, keep moving.
If the first institution becomes unaffordable, find another path.
If you must attend the college down the street, walk through its doors ready to learn everything it can teach you.
Do not surrender your education because your original plan did not work.
I could not afford to remain at Morehouse, but Morehouse remained in me. I carried what I learned there to every institution that followed.
Then Coppin—four blocks from the house where I grew up—gave me what I needed to finish.
Morgan later helped me climb even higher.
That is my HBCU story.
It is not a story of one school. It is a story of persistence, sacrifice, redirection, and faith.
Master what is in front of you. Make education a priority. Give your very best effort wherever God plants you.
I promise you: The good Lord will bless you.
I do not care who you are. If you are making a sincere effort, seeking knowledge and carrying the greatest intentions of good for the greatest number of people, the good Lord will make a way.
He certainly made one for me.
