I led a presentation with a group of 50 high school students not too long ago. It’s always tough for me to kick these types of things off because I try to perfectly strike the balance of relating and educating. I warmed them up by mentioning the latest J. Cole album and asking for feedback on their favorite track. It’s important they’re reminded that we share some common ground. After a few rhymes of my own, I dive in. I start by expressing my desire to share some of the ground-breaking information I am currently learning and once again, I tug on the common thread of how it affects us all (including you).

Just as we all have a place we’d call our “childhood home,” many of us also have had “adverse childhood experiences,” or ACEs. These are instances of abuse, neglect, and other family or household challenges that may occur before the age of 18. As I elaborated on the identified experiences and specified what might fall in each of the three categories of ACEs, I could feel the mood of the group begin to sink. In fact, I literally watched students’ heads drop, and eyes tear up, and arms go around the person next to them to provide the comfort and support that had seemingly been missing somewhere along the road.

After delivering the information and facts about ACEs, it was time to personalize it. There’s a ten question survey that guides you through your childhood experiences. The survey asks questions such as, “did you often or very often feel that you didn’t have enough to eat, had to wear dirty clothes, and had no one to protect you? or Your parents were too drunk or high to take care of you or take you to the doctor if you needed it?” and “Were your parents ever separated or divorced or incarcerated?” For each of these ten questions, you respond with either “yes” or “no”, and every “yes” equals one point. Afterwards, you would add up your points and that would be your ACE score (out of a possible 10). Research from the initial ACE study shows as the number of ACEs increases, so does the risk for the following:

• Smoking
• Alcoholism
• Suicide Attempts
• Depression
• Diabetes
• and STDs to name a few

This list was the nail in the coffin for my students. Their ACE score, coupled with the risk for these and many more possible outcomes, was overwhelming. I felt guilty, as though I had set them up – or forced them into a car without headlights, a steering wheel, or any seat belts that was speeding down Memory Lane. So I told them that although they may not have been able to prevent where their “car” had been or how many accidents they’ve experienced, they still have the strength to lessen the impact it has on their lives.

The counterbalance to trauma is resiliency. Resiliency is a common theme in the hood; and for most of these students, it is the soundtrack to their lives. As I stood before them and shared that truth, it was as though a light was switched on. Their eyes lifted as I mentioned my own ACE score. Their heads nodded as I shared the story of “the rose that grew from the concrete.” And I finally saw a smile when we talked about resiliency triumphing over adversity and trauma.

I spent a lot of my childhood without my mother being present, so whenever we spend time together we try to take every opportunity to fill in the gaps. I shared with her what I’ve learned about ACEs, and she asked, “How does it affect you as a husband and father?” With this new awareness of ACEs comes even more responsibility. My wife and I are more conscious of how we raise our daughter as we’ve seen how ACEs have played out in our lives and the lives of those around us.

When I thought back on how the ACEs study impacted me, I realized it wasn’t for my eyes only. Much of the research on ACEs suggest many of these experiences and outcomes are preventable. Positive environments, encouragement and inspiration, a stable childhood home, and a community of compassion help negate some of the effects of trauma. The kids I work with have the opportunity to be just that for those around them as they are leaders for their peers as well as the younger generation. I can’t hoard what I’m learning and using to sort out my own issues and expect to single-handedly foster healing. A community of compassion cannot exist without a community. In the “age of information,” I know our youth are inundated on a daily basis with material that is shaping their minds and their character. I’m hoping they’d be shaped and fashioned in the ways of resiliency and compassion.