“I treat you just like an adult. You know that, right?”
Mayor Mike Rawlings stares down his 12-year-old constituent. At 4 feet 6 inches tall, David Williams is forced to perch on the very edge of a voluminous black armchair, lest it swallow him.
The capacious furniture, the wall of windows, the grandiosity of the view from Dallas City Hall, the nameplate outside this office – all of it dwarfs the precocious seventh grader in his vest and bow tie, with his afro tamed into cornrows. He seems oblivious to his own smallness in the space.
“Yes, sir,” he says and plows on through his presentation.
This is not the first time David has met with the mayor; in fact, he’s becoming a well-known figure on the fifth-floor of City Hall, where Rawlings and Dallas City Council members hold court.
Today, he’s proposing a number of ideas to the mayor of the ninth-largest city in the country, ranging from a domestic violence awareness event (one of the mayor’s priority issues and a subject close to home for David) to a mentorship program for South Dallas youths. He charges from one idea to the next, scrolling through his notes on his iPhone, as the mayor interjects with questions and grills him about his knowledge on each issue – just as he would an adult.
“Did you just stay up all night thinking of ideas?” queries the mayor as David moves to Idea No. 3.
“Not all night,” the boy replies. “But ’til about 1 o’clock maybe.”
David, an ordinary boy who loves sports and Percy Jackson books like any other tween his age, has discovered something extraordinary: even little kids can make a big difference.
He’s no senator’s son, no millionaire’s son – just a kid from South Dallas with ambitions to one day become the President of the United States.
His involvement doesn’t end with City Hall. The chess-loving homeschooler also serves as president for not one, but two organizations: Dallas Park and Recreation Junior Ambassadors and Junior Board of Sequence Enterprise Entertainment & Our Kids (SEE Our Kids), a nonprofit educational outreach program for underprivileged youth (led, not surprisingly, by his Mom and biggest cheerleader Shatara Mathis).
Shatara sits patiently in the waiting lounge while David chats with the mayor. “I think I make him nervous,” she quips, later adding, “I don’t have to tell him, ‘OK, you have to speak.’ He wants to go speak! He has the city secretary’s number plugged into his phone.”
Always on the Job
It’s Monday morning, 11 days after David’s meeting with Mayor Rawlings, and David is back at City Hall. He’s changed out his suit for business-western: denim on denim, cowboy boots and a State of Texas bolo tie.
Just as his Sunday best matched the mayor’s suit and suite, David’s new attire echoes the man he’s meeting today for the first time. Councilman Rick Callahan flaunts a Texas star pin and a Dallas drawl, as he gives David a history lesson on the city and his district, Pleasant Grove.
David, in turn, asks the councilman about the rec centers in his district – he’s planning to visit every rec center in Dallas this summer as part of his role as Junior Ambassador for Dallas Park and Recreation, but he also thinks the centers might be good venues for his domestic violence panels (still in the planning stages after some pointers from the mayor).
Callahan is on board with David’s campaign against domestic violence. “It is a citywide effort,” the councilman concurs. “I’d be happy to turn up the heat on that.”
The meeting lasts the better part of an hour, and David sits with perfect posture throughout, listening more than he talks, betraying no weariness as Callahan monologues. At the end, he invites the councilman to an Earth Day event he is organizing at Singing Hills Park.
David’s always networking. It’s a round-the-clock job and he doesn’t miss a beat.
In addition to advocating for his community, David finds time to work at Red Bird Mall as a barbershop assistant, keeping stations clean and fetching refreshments for the barbers.
The mall is also a recruiting ground – several barbers will be cutting hair at David’s SEE Our Kids back-to-school rally this summer – and a grapevine for spreading the word about his events.
“Since our community is small, everybody knows everybody,” he says.
But, really, it doesn’t matter: this kid has no qualms about talking to strangers.
“When it comes to speaking, I don’t know … I’m just chillaxed,” he explains nonchalantly. “If I have a fear, I find a way to conquer it or someone makes me conquer it.”
Like the time a friend in Amarillo coerced him into riding The Rainbow at Wonderland Amusement Park again and again until David’s fear of heights ran screaming. Now he favors Superman: Tower of Power, with its 300-foot drop, at Six Flags.
What is David’s kryptonite, then? “When it comes to something like a big test, I may get a little nervous,” he admits.
Breaking Generational Curses
Before he took on the mantle of well mannered, articulate community leader, David was a bit of a problem child, acting out and (allegedly) pulling the fire alarm at school – all due to the domestic violence happening in his own home.
He was not the direct victim, but David watched as his mom suffered verbal and physical abuse at the hands of her boyfriend. She was in denial about the abuse; it was her son’s reaction that spurred her to seek counseling.
“When I originally went [for help], it was because David was having behavioral problems in school,” Shatara confesses. “He was throwing cowboy boots at the teacher, he was pulling the fire alarm.”
“The fire alarm was an accident,” David insists.
Accident or otherwise, David’s misbehavior triggered a change in his family: they all sought counseling, Shatara separated from her boyfriend and David became an engaged and curious kid, now with a mission to keep domestic violence from infecting other families.
He wants to see the city leaders “slice the domestic violence percentage in half” through educational panels, counseling opportunities for victims and mentorship programs for Dallas children to weed out the violence before it ever has a chance to take root.
In David’s mind, domestic violence and bullying are two sides of the same coin. “Domestic violence is just bullying on an adult level,” he explains.
When David was 8, not long after the family freed themselves from the domestic abuse situation, he suffered temporary but debilitating side effects from a pharmacy error. Some days, he relied on a walker to maneuver the school hallways.
“The other kids thought that I was faking, so they would throw the walker down the stairs,” he remembers.
Shatara began homeschooling David in fifth grade (he attends online school through the University of Houston). That’s when he discovered new talents, like making important city leaders listen to him when he proposes anti-bullying measures and domestic violence prevention tactics.
“Before this I really didn't even want to publicly speak,” he admits. “But now I just love it.”
David has progressed from throwing cowboy boots to wearing them proudly at City Hall as a representative for kids from every corner of the city. He’s from a part of Dallas that, as he points out, we don’t cover extensively in our magazines, a part of Dallas that is too often only mentioned on the 10 o’clock news because of something bad that’s happened there.
David and his mom are candid about the very-much existent problems in Oak Cliff and Southern Dallas; they hope to break what Shatara calls the “generational curses” that discourage kids in at-risk areas from achieving bright futures.
By providing a good example of what kids are capable of, David’s trying to disrupt the cycle and shatter the bad reputation of the neighborhoods he calls home.
“Everyone assumes that just because you live in Oak Cliff or the southern sector of Dallas, you’re going to grow up and automatically be a person that does bad things,” he says. “That’s just not true.”
To prove his point, David is aiming high – Capitol Hill high.
“I want to run through every form of government — city council, mayor and so on, up to president,” he informs.
In fact, this summer he will intern for Texas Congresswoman Eddie Bernice Johnson. He’s hoping she can introduce him to President Obama.
Kids Listen to Kids
David says his biggest challenge is people taking him seriously. But his age and stature have also been a boon to his community service efforts. Because he’s barely into the double-digits, he’s the perfect bridge between the Park and Recreation department and Dallas kids. He knows exactly what will entice kids to learn more about the environment because he’s one of them.
Often David is brainstorming with Park and Recreation director Willis Winters and community program coordinator Samuel Franklin on new ways to get youngsters involved (such as pop-up events where neighborhood kids are invited to enjoy an afternoon at the park while gleaning tips on how to keep it clean).
“He actually came up with the pop-up idea,” Franklin admits. “He said, ‘Kids like to hang out – let’s just show up.’” So they did and so did the kids. David was right, of course.
Michelle Chase, founder of Wee Volunteer, a service organization for kids in North Texas, says that kids, like David, can sometimes be better equipped than adults to serve the community because they see needs and solutions where adults don’t.
“They’re actually able to come up with ideas and see holes in the system, needs that are not being met, and come up with ways to meet those needs,” she says.
“[Kids] don’t need vehicles and they don’t have to have a job to make a big difference in the world,” adds Kellie McLarty, middle school counselor at Fort Worth Country Day School.
The mom of two coordinates service activities for fifth- to eighth-grade students – everything from writing thank-you notes to the fire department to building Birthdays in a Bag for the Tarrant Area Food Bank. She says kids intrinsically want to serve; all she has to do is show them where they can plug in.
McLarty and Chase agree that knowing where to start is the only obstacle for most kids when it comes to stepping up in the community – and having parents who cheer them on. While the Internet is making it much easier for kids to find opportunities to serve, not all kids are as lucky as David when it comes to supportive mentors.
It was Shatara who took him to his first City Council meeting – and said yes when he wanted to go back armed with a PowerPoint – and who continues to taxi him to and from City Hall. She’s adamant about taking her kids to the polls on voting day and exposing them to the way their community functions and how they might fit into the bigger picture.
“Instead of just sitting in a classroom teaching children history, why not make them a part of history?” she offers.
While David has been received with respect (after initial skepticism) at City Hall, Chase wishes that the city as a whole – and the adults in it – were more receptive to young voices.
“As a community, we need to be more open and recognize that the earlier we introduce and allow children to become a part of the community, the better they’ll be at it as adults,” says Chase, who suggests conducting special City Council meetings, for example, that tailor discussions to kids at a time that doesn’t conflict with school.
Even if the adults do their part to instill a community-minded attitude, kids still respond best to encouragement from another kid.
“Kids listen to kids. If I’m the one that presents the idea, they’re less likely to get excited,” says McLarty. “When it’s presented by a kid, they take off with it.”
Hence David makes his presence known at all of the Dallas Park and Rec events, such as park dedications and ribbon cutting ceremonies. He’s there to represent — and speak to — the city’s youngest benefactors.
In essence, he’s become a voice to the city and for the city, a two-way conduit to carry messages to and from his generation.
“He’s got a voice that the mayor and the Dallas City Council listen to and a voice that kids his age listen to,” Winters says, identifying what is perhaps David’s biggest strength as a young leader. “When I introduce him to people, I introduce him as Mayor of Dallas in 30 years.”
Rule the World
It’s a warm, windy afternoon in April: David’s long-awaited Earth Day event at Singing Hills Park. He’s gathered a coterie of environmental vendors and educators from Dallas Park and Rec, plus the Dallas Fire Department and a children’s mime troupe. Pharrell’s “Happy” is drifting from the speakers. As school lets out, the neighborhood kids appear in loose packs, lured by the music, the fire truck and the promise of free stuff.
Before the kids can fill their goodie bags, Franklin leads the group (adults included) in a grueling game of Simon Says. During Round 2, the park echoes with the mingled voices of kids and adults shouting, “I will keep my parks clean!” until Simon says stop. Then David tells all the kids to place their hands over their hearts and repeat after him. “I pledge … to keep my parks clean … If I see someone littering, I’ll pick it up and stash my trash … Amen!”
The kids disperse to plant seeds in mini pots and operate the fire engine hose. David grabs a football and wanders off with a few friends.
Franklin’s all smiles. “That kid is great,” he says. “David’s gonna rule the world.”
Published May 2014
