The day finally came. Its been four looooooooong years. The Inaugural Graduating class of 2011 immanently made it to their big day. And believe you me, it was a roller coaster of a ride. Though I don't presently have any children, I have never felt more like a proud father than I did on Saturday's commencement ceremony. Heck, its been four long years. Honestly, I have shed some tears, lots of sweat, grew some grey hairs, and indeed, even shed some blood over this class. Think I am being overly dramatic? Think again. This group of 60 graduating seniors has taken a lot out of me. A lot out of my colleagues. We started in the mission of our school four long years ago, as this class entered our brand new school as 9th graders. Its been mentioned a few times, that the adults in my school owe a great deal of debt to these students, for coming into our school believing in our audacious promises of undreamt college dreams becoming a reality. Our ridiculous claims that they could work as 14 year olds side by side adults in corporate America to help pay their tuition. So, as the years have progressed, and the promises we made turned out to not necessarily be as empty as once facetiously perceived, things got interesting. Sadly, some of the original 100 students fell off to the wayside. Sometimes because of behavior. Sometimes because of inability to cope with the long rigorous academic work day. Some because they were afraid of success, and where that might have lead them. Still some, because their chaotic street lives and dysfunctional home lives pulled them down with them. Yet still, as the date of graduation became an approaching reality, we had 60 eager and waiting seniors, hungry for their diplomas.
I have been asked many times by friends, family, and strangers how my work at my school is. Often times, I give the same canned response, "Things are great. Hard work, but great. I have never worked so hard at a job I love." But after some thought and processing (especially this weekend in regard to the class of 2011) I have come up with the best/worst analogy possible.
***DISCLAIMER: This is irreverent, and may piss you off. So if you are easily offended, please don't continue reading Just look at the happy pictures and carry on!*** What I realized as Graduation day became close, and in regard to the work I have done as a teacher with this group of students, I would compare the experience to that of a battered spouse. Here is why. As a high school teacher in general, one takes a lot of abuse from teenagers. The verbal berating, the lying, the cheating. So, right away, there are symptoms of an abusive relationship. Given the broken homes, the cycle of poverty and violent background many of my students come from, they bring a ton of baggage to the classroom. They often times seem polite at first, though holding you off at a distance being relatively respectful, but mostly suspicious. Slowly as you begin to build rapport and trust, things go well. Laughing, joking, etc. Then as things begin to stabilize, they get ugly. Suddenly, they start taking advantage of your trust: "I need $5 for the bus home." "I didn't have time to write my essay because I had to babysit until 2am." Mostly these claims are true, but not always. Suddenly, its as if they have tricked you or conned you. You become deeply invested in them. In trying to help them succeed, to reach happiness. Then the emotional abuse begins. They push your loyalty to them. They say hurtful things. They mock you behind your back and to your face. They hurt their peers, just to see how you react. They steal from you and their peers, to see if they can. Then, just as they know you are about to quit on them, give up any sort of investment or attention, they stop. They let the dust settle and see if you stick around. Maybe you even have a good day. You think, "Oh, I have helped them change."
Then BAM! A smack in the face (metaphorically speaking). They find your weakness again, and exploit the hell out of it. Because you let them in, they know how they can hurt you. You ask them to stop, and then they shut down on you. They become depressed. Sometimes use stimulants, legal or otherwise to feel something other than the pain they experience day in and day out. Suddenly seeing them in all their sadness, you feel sorry. You try to coax them off the ledge. Sometimes it takes days before they talk to you again. Then the cycle happens all over again. You trust. You get hurt. You forgive. You feel sorry. And again. And again. And again.
I for one have never been a part of an abusive relationship. People I have loved and do love have been though and what I know of them, this seems like a pretty solid analogy of what the past four years have truly been like.
Wow. This blog got a lot more depressing than I intended. But, I figured it best to be honest about why it is this graduation, more than anything else I have experienced in education was so emotional for me. I'm not a crier, but this ceremony brought me to tears. As each name was called, I had these mini-flashbacks to the time, the hours, the days spent with these students. Hearing their names called. Seeing their excitement, reading in the program where they are planning to go for college or military. It all hit me like a tsunami of emotion. Somehow, despite the abuse, by the grace of God, I have witnessed a miracle. These 60 students had made it. Suddenly on Saturday I realized it wasn't me that was beaten in this relationship. It was the students and my colleagues beating the system. All the turmoil and strife was them definitely giving a beating. They had beaten the shit out of the statistical odds of brown boys and girls from poverty graduating from High School. No, not just graduating from High School, but also gaining the respect and experience of 4 years of corporate internship and real tools to help them be successful in 2 & 4 year colleges and the military. What I realized at Saturday's graduation ceremony was that the bruises and scratches gained over the four years of our relationship weren't directed at me. It was them fighting the unjust system. Us adults were the referees. Referees that at times tried to call a fair fight. Sometimes trying to throw the fight in their favor. Sometimes we were just the referees who got in the way of the punches. So if we bled, it was not in vain. If we cried, it was not for nothing. It was so they would indeed be the victors in this fight where the opponent had stacked the deck against them. And on Saturday when our principal read each of our students names called, it was like he got to call the fight. He rang the ringside bell. We called victory for the our students, who indeed had earned their victory.
http://minnesota.publicradio.org/display/web/2011/06/10/cristo-rey-jesuit-school-minneapolis/
http://www.startribune.com/local/minneapolis/123724124.html
http://kstp.com/article/stories/S2152111.shtml?cat=0
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