Tears of Every Kind

Today, I attended Locke's graduation. Over 80 percent of our senior class walked - loads better than the less than 40 percent the previous year. I watched Michael beam as he accepted his diploma, knowing full well that tomorrow he leaves for a full ride at American University. I watched countless first-generation high school graduates stand up to announce their plans to attend college. I watched dozens of kids who would have definitely fallen through the cracks in the past, walk across that stage - some with as many tears in their eyes as myself.

What actually set off my own tears - hard to believe I was never a crier until three years ago - was seeing a single student accept their diploma without the golden medal his peers all hung proudly around their necks. Earlier that week, this student had given it to a friend of his, a favorite student of mine, in the hospital. These two friends had been sitting on a front porch. When one went into get a glass of water, a car drove by, four bullets exploded from a gun, and each one of them managed to hit my student.

Before attending graduation tonight, I was visiting him in the hospital. He did not appear to be in any pain, which is a blessing. He told me he is still in shock, that he hasn't fully processed doctors' news he might never walk again.

Today, they found a pulse in his foot, and we prayed together that pulse would be his miracle. That he might beat the odds and not be a victim of paralysis as well as a random drive by.

This is my prayer for all of my students. That they beat the odds. More students drop out of school in Watts then don't. More than that, the rates of shootings, homicides, drug abuse, and gang recruitment are the highest in the country.

They miss school because of lung conditions, often easily prevented and/or solved by clean air and appropriate treatment. They lose their loved ones when an early diagnosis of Cancer could have saved their life. They go to bed and wake up hungry when guardians struggle to make anything near a living wage. They live as child adults, taking care of younger siblings when their parents are forced to return to a country other than the one they call home. They are abandoned and betrayed by friends and family who are seduced by available money-making crimes.

Many of them suffer from undiagnosed - usually completely unacknowledged - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which could happen to anyone who has seen a loved one brutally killed, had a knife cut them on a moving bus, lain flat on the floor night after night as bullets flew by.

And given all of this, almost four hundred of them were awarded a high school diploma today.

In my third year teaching, the highs and lows of the work only seem to get more extreme. In the same few moments, I hugged a senior I helped pass the California Exit Exam required to receive a diploma, wished a student I helped earn a much-needed scholarship good-bye, and bumped into a student I had had two years prior - a kid still falling through the cracks. I listened as he told me of the past year of his life - which he is not proud of. I offered to meet him at Locke to discuss his options before I sent him off, completely unsure if I will ever see or hear from him again. And I thought of my student in the hospital, with his friend's gold medal hanging from scotch tape on the wall of his room, unsure if he will ever be able to literally walk across a stage.

I find myself stunned and determined. More than ever. And I pray, starting with James, for miracles and grace.

Here was my big break through this week. Daniel answered a question correctly.

That's it. One simple - very simple, actually - question.

Daniel is just one of those kids who publication education has broken. He's not unintelligent, but years in a dysfunctional, abusive school system have convinced him otherwise. Daniel spent the first month of my class doing anything and everything he possibly could to get kicked out. He spent the next month proving to me he didn't care about his education. He's still tricking many of his teachers into believing this.

And yet yesterday, when I asked the class to work in groups to correct a run-on sentence, Daniel was the first to voice the answer.

I almost feel guilty for being so proud of this, to say it's the highlight of my week. His group was proud too. Daniel sits with five academically-strong girls. When he gave the right answer, this quiet group enthusiastically whooped and hollered, practically giving him a standing ovation. All of our faces lit up - Daniel's the brightest of all.

Does it disturb me that such a small triumph can make me so excited? Yes. Especially this late in the year. He's dangerously behind academically, and all I've suceeded in is getting him to answer one question. ONE.

And yet, the next time he decides to zone out, skip class, or arrive inebriated, I'll remember that moment and hold out hope.

It's a strange addiction - being an educator. The sense of doom and failure can bring on physical illness. The incessant thoughts can become all consuming and prevent sleep. And yet all it takes is one moment of strength - one hit - and all this is forgotten, or at least, worth the price you have pay.

Wisdom from a procrastinating teenager

Today, I had my journalists quickly reflect on the importance of deadlines. I needed to give a pep talk to half the class for missing our latest deadline. Here is the five-minute response from one of my girls.


Deadlines are very imperative to me, not just in journalism, but in life. Not meeting dealines can cause personal problems such as failing a class, but it can cause bigger issues, such as delays with the paper, and problems between the students in class.

As an assistant editor, I have failed you. As a writer, I have failed you. And most importantly, I have failed myself. There is no need to bring up excuses that I have, regardless of whether they are excusable or not because I know they are not what you want to hear. When life throws curve balls at you, you have to learn how to duck and dodge them sufficiently. I have not. I've been letting things as small as sickness to things as big as family issues hold me back this semester. Not just from your class, but other important classes as well.Yet, I still find time to go and be with my crew, to escape the harsh realities I sometimes have to face.

I am failing. I'm failing myself, this class, my teammates, my teacher. But I am not a failure. And I have not failed to a level in which I cannont rise up. Though I have procrastinated a lot, I am trying to catch up for the time that has been lost. It's pretty hard because time doesn't stop for anyone, not even the most desperate person. This is my life, without it I can't survive. And you know my potential. You know what great things I can do, which is why I ask you to not remove me from this class, not to remove me from my spot. If I haven't proved myself yet, I swear to the heavens high above that I will prove myself, and I'm going to start right now. Now excuse me, I have a paper to write.




All that in five minutes, yet she can't get her articles done when she has two weeks. Oh darling.