Flavio (name
changed) was a senior on my caseload as a counselor. He and I had a rocky start. Behind in credits. Not a particularly strong student. Tough background. Poor.
I brought him in
early in the year to talk about whether or not he wanted to graduate. Actually, he ignored my call slips. Not once, but twice. So, I sent security to escort him to my
office. I ranted and raved. He fussed and fumed. But, he agreed . . . grudgingly . . . to come
see me when he received one of my call slips.
To test that, I
sent for him the very next day and as promised, he came. He slouched down in the chair, stretched out
his legs, folded his arms and scowled at me.
I ignored
it.
Instead, I presented
him with a program, a work program where not only he could earn credits, but
also receive the training for a job. That
got his interest. He actually sat up and
stopped scowling. Hmmm . . .
I met Jamal
(name changed) when he was a skinny freshman.
He came to school to register, accompanied by his father and
step-brother. He liked writing. Seemed curious, interested. Quiet, but smiled shyly.
Two boys. Same
school. Different backgrounds. Different, but similar.
I would check in
with Flavio once a week or so to see how he was doing. Eventually, I didn’t have to send for
him. He started to come to see me on his
own, without a call slip and without the security escort.
He and I talked
about other things besides school. He was
a borderline gang-banger. He stole. He got into fights because he was angry. He ran with a ‘crew’ because he liked the
thrill.
I kept
redirecting him back to “What’s your goal? What do you want in life- right
now? Next year?”
Flavio got
himself jumped out of his ‘crew’. Beaten
up badly. When I visited him, I barely
recognized him. Bruised, battered,
swollen. But . . . happy, relieved.
Jamal lived in a
two-bedroom apartment with his dad and his dad’s wife, his step-brother and two
step-sisters. His biological mother was
in jail for drug abuse. Jamal slept on
the floor. No mattress. Not even a couch. Just a blanket to throw over him to keep him
warm.
But he came to
school every day. Worked hard. Determined.
Excelled in football, wrestling and track. And of course, writing.
He visited with
me once or twice a week too.
Found out that
he was living with his grandmother because neither his mother nor his father
wanted him. Unfortunately, he came home
from a pick-up basketball game and discovered his grandmother dead on the
kitchen floor. Heart attack. At one point during his high school years,
Jamal’s father also ended up in jail. So
did his step-brother. He could have been
swept up in a gang like many of his friends.
No, he stayed away. Spent time in
the two-bedroom apartment where he wasn’t particularly wanted. Not really wanted at all.
Flavio and
Jamal. Two boys. Tough backgrounds. Tough, if not impossible, lives.
Two boys in the
same graduating class. Yes, they
graduated.
Flavio was the
first male in four generations to graduate from high school. He received his high school diploma, stepped
off the stage, sought me out and he hugged me for what seemed an eternity. He and I wept together. Happy tears.
Tears of joy. Loved that kid.
Jamal went
through the same graduation. Received
his diploma, stepped off the stage and picked me up in a bear hug and spun me
in a circle. Happy. Giddy.
Laughing. Loved him too.
Two boys with
impossible backgrounds. Impossible
lives. Not much support. Poor.
Impoverished.
Yet, neither boy
made Excuses. No Excuses. They worked hard. They gutted it out. Both determined to make something of himself
. . . themselves. No Excuses. Not poverty.
Not a lot of family support.
Now?
Flavio went to a
tech school for drafting. Jamal went to
college on a football scholarship, became a counselor and is now an
administrator. Make no mistake- it wasn’t
me! The only thing I did was open a
door. I lent a hand. I guided.
That’s it. That’s all. They did the work. They made the decision to change, to do
better. They decided to go through the
door held open to them. Those two young
men were the ones who succeeded. Only those two young men deserve the credit-
no one else!
Both young men
could have hidden themselves under the cloak of “Ain’t it awful”. Both young men could have thrown in the towel. But instead, there were No Excuses made by
either of them. They made tough
choices. They worked hard. They didn’t let life and it pitfalls do them
in. Instead, they rose above their given
lot in life. Instead, they seized
opportunities given to them. No
Excuses. If those two young men could,
anyone can. We can. Something to think about . . .
Live Your Life,
and Make A Difference!
Sometimes it seems the people you would expect to have excuses don't and the people that should have no excuses are the ones that have a list of excuses as long as your arm.
ReplyDeleteYou're absolutely right, Julie. Interesting, isn't it? Thanks for reading it and thanks for the comment. I appreciate it.
ReplyDeleteAnother inspiring story. Joan
ReplyDeleteYour blog posts are amazing,well written. Carry on :) Dennis
ReplyDeleteThank you Joan and Dennis. I really appreciate it and I thank you for reading it. Joe
ReplyDeleteMaking lemonade out of Lemon. I love this, so. inspiring.
ReplyDeleteMore ink to your pen.
Thank you, Muhammad. Thank you for following this. Joe
Delete