Life Unfiltered~Don’t Play With My Boom Box Memories

I had a student walk up to me last week, smiling from ear to ear. And I mean cheesing hard, like he already knew he had something good.

When I finally realized what he was carrying, I smiled too.

He stopped right in front of me and yelled, “Ms. Latwanya, check this out!”

I looked at him and said, “No, you didn’t bring a boom box to school.”

He said, “Yes, I did, and I had to come show you.”

Now that right there made my whole day.

I love the fact that the students I work with know me. Not just as the adult in the building, not just as the one reminding them to make better choices, get to class, calm down, think before they react, and all that other grown-up school stuff. They know little pieces of me, too. They know I love music. They know I love old-school music. They know I love the culture, the memories, and everything that comes with it.

And this boom box was so cute and cool, y’all.

It was not one of those big, heavy boom boxes from back in the day that looked like it needed its own seatbelt in the car. It was smaller, newer, and stylish, but it still had that old-school feel. That little thing had personality. He set it right on my desk so I could take a picture of it, and yes, it is the one featured in this blog.

Now, between you and me, I have already added it to my Amazon list of possible orders.

Do I need it?

Absolutely not.

Am I still thinking about getting it?

Absolutely yes.

That is how memories will get you. One minute you are at work minding your business, and the next minute a student walks in with a boom box and sends you straight back to the days when music had to be carried around like it was part of your outfit.

Back then, a boom box was not just something you played music on. It was a whole statement. It had weight, literally and culturally. You did not just casually carry a boom box. You walked with it. You claimed space with it. You let the whole block, hallway, park, or bus stop know what you were listening to.

And depending on what was playing, people knew something about you.

When I saw that boom box sitting on my desk, so many songs and scenes came rushing back to me.

The first one, of course, was LL Cool J’s “I Can’t Live Without My Radio.”

Now that is the main one. If you know, you know. LL did not just rap about a radio. He made that radio feel like his partner, his identity, his power source. That song is tied to that classic Krush Groove era, when hip-hop was still raw, young, loud, and unapologetic. LL with the Kangol, the attitude, the confidence, and that radio energy — that was a whole mood.

Back then, the radio was everything. Before playlists, before Bluetooth speakers, before everybody had music sitting in their pocket, your boom box was your sound system. It was how you brought the party with you. It was how you practiced your dances. It was how you showed off your favorite songs. It was how you made memories without even knowing you were making them.

Then my mind went straight to Do the Right Thing and that famous boom box scene with Radio Raheem.

Now that was not just a boom box. That was presence. That was “I am here, and you are going to hear me.” The boom box battle in that movie is one of those classic moments that sticks with you because it was more than music. It was attitude, culture, pride, and tension all wrapped into one scene. That big radio was almost like another character in the movie.

And then there is Eric B. & Rakim’s “I Ain’t No Joke.”

That one still sits in my music rotation. Real hip-hop. Real lyricism. Real presence. And when Flavor Flav is dancing with that boom box behind him, it is such a perfect snapshot of that era. The music, the movement, the confidence, the street style — all of it. That was when videos did not need a million special effects. Give us a beat, a rhyme, a sidewalk, a boom box, and some personality, and we were good.

That is the kind of music I still go back to.

Not because I am stuck in the past, but because some music just holds something special. It carries memories. It carries people. It carries moments you did not even realize you had tucked away.

That little boom box on my desk reminded me of all of that.

It reminded me of when music felt big, even coming out of something with batteries. It reminded me of when you had to wait for your song to come on the radio, and if you were lucky, you had a blank cassette ready to record it. It reminded me of rewinding tapes with a pencil, making mixtapes, dancing in the house, hearing music coming from somebody’s porch, and knowing exactly who had the best sound on the block.

And here was this student, years later, standing in front of me with his own little boom box, proud as ever, making sure I saw it.

That part touched me.

Because sometimes students are paying attention in ways we do not always realize. They remember what makes us smile. They notice what we talk about. They pick up on the little things that make us human. And for him to think, “I have to show Ms. Latwanya this,” meant something to me.

It was small, but it was not small.

That is connection.

That is relationship.

That is the kind of thing that reminds me why I love working with students. Yes, some days are hard. Yes, they will test every ounce of patience you thought you had. Yes, some days you wonder if they heard anything you said. But then one of them walks in with a boom box, smiling like they brought you treasure, and suddenly you remember — they do hear you. They do see you. They do know you.

And sometimes, they bring a little joy right to your desk.

So now here I am, still thinking about that boom box.

Still thinking about LL Cool J.

Still thinking about Krush Groove.

Still thinking about Radio Raheem.

Still thinking about Rakim, Eric B., and Flavor Flav dancing in the background.

Still thinking about how music has a way of showing up right when you need it.

And yes, still thinking about whether I am going to order that boom box from Amazon.

Again, do I need it?

No.

But would it look cute sitting somewhere in my house, ready to play some old-school hip-hop, R&B, and soul while I clean, write, cook, or just sit back and remember?

Absolutely.

Because some things are not about need.

Some things are about joy.

And that little boom box brought me joy. 📻🎶