Mustang High School teacher of the year models leadership
MUSTANG — One of two teachers of the year for Mustang High School, retired U.S. Army Chief Omar Jones, didn’t say that he was “humbled by the honor” of being chosen. He said, “They made a mistake.”
One of two JROTC instructors of a nationally recognized program, he reasoned there won’t be any questions on an ACT from his class. JROTC is a leadership class. It teaches perseverance in the face of adversity, teamwork and good decision-making.
He asked his students to help him fill in the blank on one of his teacher of the year forms. He asked the kids, “What do I teach you?” They agreed; Jones teaches them life.
He has a lot of experience from which to draw.
Jones, an African-American, was born in Los Angeles but grew up largely in Toledo, Ohio. Money was tight, and the family moved a lot. School wasn’t difficult for him. He went to college at Bowling Green on an athletic scholarship and was in the Army Reserve.
Then he discovered girls.
“Once I got to college, it kind of fell apart. I got kicked out of college with a .62 GPA. I tried to hide it from my mom, but she had already gotten the letter. And then she kicked me out of the house. Her motto was, ‘We work or we go to school in this house.’ ”
In retrospect, he can say it was one of the best things that happened to him, but at the time, his friends were getting killed on the streets of Toledo or going to prison. When Jones himself got in trouble with the law, it changed everything.
“I knew I had to figure something out. So I walked down to the recruiter station.”
He’s lived in seven countries and 13 states over a career of nearly three decades in the Army. He earned his way to Chief Warrant Officer 4.
“It was a great decision, but the best decision was my wife, and I give God all of the glory.”
He grew up with her family. Felecia was different. She had plans. They never really dated, but on his first visit home, he asked her to marry him.
“She said no. And then she stewed on it for a few days.”
She tracked down his phone number and called to ask if the offer was still good. Ninety-six hours later, they were married.
“It was the best decision I made in my life,” he said. “The reason I’m at Mustang is because of that lady, actually.”
‘I love my kids’
His motto and the reason why he teaches is simple: “I owe.”
He said he owes people who came before him, like 2nd Lt. Henry O. Flipper, the first African-American graduate of West Point.
He said he owes Bill Cremean, Jack Thompson and Brad Hathaway, coaches and teachers from Toledo.
Jones wanted to do the same thing for other struggling teens.
His experience in an urban school district was shocking. One day while serving as a substitute, he called an administrator for help with an unruly classroom. The assistant principal said it wasn’t her job. In Jones’ world, you never let a new officer struggle. He followed her down the hall, telling her that in no uncertain terms.
He headed for the principal’s office to express his feelings to him, as well.
The principal told him to leave. He applied for a different position, but that school was in the same mess. Felecia said, ‘Mustang’s open. Are you going to apply?’ ”
His dream was to work in the inner cities, to find the kids who were giving up and to show them they could make it. No, he did not intend to apply.
“None of those kids look like me,” he told her. “They’re not going to hire me. I figured I wouldn’t give them a chance to say no because it wasn’t going to happen anyway.’”
Felecia, a preschool teacher, was about to give Jones a lesson.
“She said, ‘I don’t believe you. You’re doing the exact same thing you say they’re going to do to you. You’re not giving them the benefit of the doubt, that they’re smart enough to recognize a quality person.’ “
He couldn’t argue. He drove to Mustang, resume in hand but without an appointment. A week later, he got the call.
No, the students by and large don’t look like him, but they talk about race and dispel stereotypes together. They’re his kids now.
“I love my kids,” he said. “My heart hurts for them when they don’t do well. They’re the ones who are going to be part of changing the way we do relations.”