Finding Their Voices

Jermol Jupiter, left, and Ignacio Evans in an alley near Jermol's house in Baltimore. (Scott Gregory Robinson)

But the Douglass students have come at it sideways, through a barely visible chink in the armor. They have departed from the text. They have chosen an off-topic argument -- a legitimate but chancy approach -- that allows them to shift the terms of the debate to the topic they really want to talk about: the incarceration rate of African American men. To use this as a platform to expound their views on alternatives to incarceration, they have taken the official resolution about "increasing the number of persons serving in national service" and tweaked it. When it is their turn to argue against this youth-service proposal, they do so by asserting that, because ex-cons are barred from some programs, the programs are inherently unfair. (Many of these federally funded programs require criminal background checks at the state level, and there are some restrictions regarding ex-cons' participation.) To bolster their arguments, the students regularly invoke a successful San Francisco-based reentry program called the Delancey Street Foundation, which hires ex-cons who have completed job training to teach newly emerging prisoners. When it is the students' turn to argue in favor of the proposal, they focus on "increasing the number of persons serving" by allowing more of the formerly incarcerated to participate.

The Milwaukee students are trying to wrap their heads around this argument that comes out of left field. "So, what is your point?" Angela demands during the cross-examination. "What's your overview of this whole case?"

Jermol smiles and unfolds his gangly limbs to stand again. "We're making an argument that prisons are one of the worst things that ever happened in our society, like a modern form of slavery," he says.

"How are prisons a form of slavery?" Angela shoots back. "The 13th Amendment says all forms of slavery are abolished."

"Prisons are a form of slavery," Jermol parries, "since they deprive men of their liberty and provide free or cheap prison labor."

In the chasm of silence that follows, the wheels are clearly turning in Angela's brain as she struggles for traction. She leans over to say something to her partner, 16-year-old Kyle Sperandio, a slightly chubby young man in an orange button-down shirt. They ask the judge for some prep time, the debate equivalent of a timeout, to whisper loudly to each other.

"Ohmygod," Kyle complains, annoyed and frustrated by Iggy and Jermol's stance.

"I hate that they're saying, once they let these people free, that they're going to go out and do community service. Yeah, right! Let's ask them for an example, like, do you even know anyone in prison?"

But Angela panics: "No! Don't ask them that!"

IN FACT, AS YOUNG AFRICAN AMERICAN MEN GROWING UP IN INNER-CITY BALTIMORE, Iggy and Jermol know many people who are serving time. They include Jermol's father and Iggy's brother. And in the teens' view, the topic they are arguing is one of the most pressing issues in America.

Iggy at debate camp.(Scott Gregory Robinson)

Iggy and Jermol are participants in what began nine years ago as a pilot program in eight Baltimore schools to teach democracy -- as well as critical thinking, basic literacy and research skills -- to underprivileged urban kids but has snowballed into a wildly popular competition drawing more than 1,000 students from 60 schools to Baltimore's tournaments on any given weekend. The kids compete in citywide, national and even international debate competitions (Jermol went to debate in England last year; Iggy, to the Czech Republic this summer).

Debate organizers invoke a 2004 University of Missouri-Kansas City study to note that a year's participation in debate improves literacy by 25 percent and makes students three times less likely to engage in high-risk behaviors such as fighting and skipping school. A recent Education Week study found that Baltimore City had the third-worst graduation rate of the nation's 50 largest school districts. Only 34.6 percent of Baltimore students graduate, but 90 percent of the city's urban debaters graduate on time, and 90 percent go on to college.