The other day, I met one of the most inspired groups of high school students the world has ever known. I kid you not. This was at 826LA, in the light-filled room next to Pilar’s office, and I was there to say hello to the student editorial committee of Ánimo Inglewood Charter High School.

I expected them to be an impressive bunch—they had, after all, helped pull together a 200-page book in a few months—but still, these young people were nothing short of mind-blowing. They had gotten involved in Team Jackson from the start, thinking it would be interesting work, for sure, but none of them expected to get sucked in quite so far as they did, and to be left, crazily enough, after hundreds of hours of work, wanting more. As the proofs lay on the table in front of us, it was clear that they were sad, in a way, that the book was finally done. None of the students on the committee had been part of such an editorial board before, but now they want to continue; they want more book projects, maybe a school newspaper, a literary magazine— anything to maintain the momentum they now have.

I met, I believe, nine students, and every last one of them was poised, charming, hugely ambitious, and, it seems undeniable, capable of really anything they want to do. They’re respectful of each other’s ideas, careful to give deference and honor to all the work submitted by their classmates, and passionate about the direction of the book. And they did make all the major decisions along the way. We talked about how they came up with the cover—one of the best student-generated covers I’ve ever seen. They showed whose hands were whose—it took Terrell a second to find his—and explained briefly how they came up with the brilliant title, Rhythm of the Chain. Even the color of the title’s typeface required much discussion. And they were ready for more.

We got to talking about teachers; I forget exactly how. I mentioned that Ninive Calegari, Daniel Moulthrop, and I were about to publish Teachers Have It Easy, a book about teacher’s lives, wherein we propose that higher teacher salaries would go a long way toward solving many of the problems of public schools. At that, the students burst forth with hearty approvals. “These are the most important people we have!” one of the students said. Terrell shook his head, dismayed about the whole issue. “I can’t believe that they’re not paid as well as doctors and lawyers,” he said.

We talked about their future goals, and though the members of the committee —Cindy, Christina, Daniela, Aris, Allison, Sade, Christen, Elvin, and Rocio— have varying career aspirations, from medicine to law to teaching to social work, I hope they find some time to stay involved with writing and publishing. They have a passion for it, and I’m pretty sure they’ve been bitten by the same bug that bit me, years ago when I edited my own high school’s literary magazine. The ability to bring a book into the world is a powerful high; there’s nothing quite like it. “This book is going to live forever,” one of the students said. And that’s no exaggeration. Future classes at Inglewood will read it, it’ll be on library shelves all over the city and the nation, and it will stand as a document of what the youth of L.A. were thinking and feeling in 2005. Thanks go to the faculty of Ánimo Inglewood for fostering such a creative environment, to the graphic designer and photographer who worked with the students, and to the tutors and staff of 826LA. And of course to the godfather of the whole project, Phil Jackson, whose guidance was steady and whose enthusiasm was infectious.

I felt giddy after meeting those students. They’re the best we have, the best I’ve seen.