Three years ago, I stepped out of the comfort zone of a private East Coast college and into the harsh, gritty world of inner-city Los Angeles. I became a middle school teacher to students with special needs. At the time, I did not realize that this job would challenge, turn upside-down, and ultimately change many beliefs I thought I held before I stepped over the threshold. Situated near the Watts Towers, epicenter of the 1965 riots, and surrounded by four public housing projects, it is a school with peeling paint, graffiti, and young souls crying. It is the stereotypical inner-city school, plagued with the problems of violence, gangs, teen pregnancy, and poverty. It is a school that is part of the urban cycle of underachievement