GREENSBORO — Austin Modlin and his classmates came from Kinston, all 25 of them, driven for three hours in three vans to see a show at the Carolina Theatre and spend the night here at the O. Henry Hotel.
It was free,
arranged by Jim Perry. He’s a Kinston native and a fourth-generation attorney. The kids know him by one name.
Mr. Jimbo.
Austin and his classmates had never seen a show underneath the Carolina’s chandelier, and they definitely had never stayed at the O. Henry, in fancy rooms with the chance to eat a three-course breakfast with cloth napkins in their laps.
They don’t know fancy.
They come from southeast Kinston, a spot of concrete and asphalt near the old shirt factory in a beaten-down part of town where drugs, gangs and daytime shootings are common and where dreams seem far away.
But two weeks ago, they were in Greensboro. With cloth napkins in hand and Mr. Jimbo in a tux, they dipped strawberries in honey yogurt and ate frittatas with goat cheese, bacon and caramelized onions.
“This is what rich people do,” Austin whispered to his 11-year-old friend, Juan Carlos Cardova. “They put napkins in their lap.”
Austin and Juan Carlos go to Southeast Elementary, a school of 299 students sandwiched among three federal housing communities distinguished simply by their names: Simon Bright, Carver Courts, Richard Greene.
Nearly every student at Southeast — or 98 percent of the student body — receives a free or reduced lunch, and many live in homes where a father’s presence is a phone call. If that.
In steps Jim Perry. Mr. Jimbo.
He’s 54, a former federal prosecutor and a father of five. He quotes the Bible, feels comfortable without socks and remembers what his father used to ask him on a regular basis: “What have you done today to help someone around you?’’
He must’ve listened.
For the past two years at Southeast Elementary, he’s recruited nearly 50 volunteers as mentors and worked with a local bank to get $17,000 in donations to help dozens of students earn money toward a college education.
They earn as much as $250 a year. All by getting good grades and behaving.
Meanwhile, he’s taken dozens of students to see plays and visit college campuses. He’s helped them get into summer camps so their minds can stretch beyond their world of concrete and asphalt.
He calls his effort Little by Little, an organization driven by volunteers, private money and this idea that short-term goals combined with long-term commitment can help kids reach big dreams.
Its goal is gargantuan: Give these children a chance to go to college, and they will be better equipped to support themselves as adults and break out of generational poverty.
But its message is simple. Austin and his classmates repeat it often.
It’s DYB. Do Your Best.
“Imagine this,’’ said Austin, 8, in between breakfast courses. “You’re a slow little boy or little girl, and Mr. Jimbo comes along, tells you 'DYB’ and it gives you a power boost and gets all that bad stuff out of your head.’’
Could something like Little By Little work in Guilford County? Kinston is small. Its entire population of nearly 23,000 people wouldn’t fill every seat in the Greensboro Coliseum.
Yet, in Guilford County, local mentoring programs have waiting lists. One of every two public school students receives a free or reduced lunch.
So, Kinston’s problems are our problems. And you know, every kid loves to dream. They’re dreaming big in southeast Kinston, near the old shirt factory. Austin and others want to go to college.
By DYB.
“It’s a big thing,’’ said Juan Carlos. “I’m getting to know more and more about the people who care for me and love me, and that makes me do unbelievable things. Really unbelievable things.’’
Contact Jeri Rowe at 373-7374 or jeri.rowe @news-record.com
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