I Made It!

Wednesday April 17, 2013-There is a special kind of breeze blowing tonight.  My car windows are rolled up but the shadows from the trees blowing are imitating the rise and fall of the breeze beacons me to crack my window, so I follow the impulse and the cool breeze wisps through the crack and instantly fills the car with a sudden chill. I drive each night from one side of town to the next. I drive by the elementary school I went to as a child each night, a nearly century old brick building, with an old green roof that has sat atop the building since I entered its heavy gray metal doors nearly eighteen years ago. The street the elementary school sits on is named after the school, Fairwood Avenue. Each year there is a graduating class of fifth graders that leave this school, and some students do not end up anywhere far from this elementary school and most become a product of their environment, a statistic. According to the GPS in my car I live 0.2 miles from the front door of this building that is a 4 minute walk. I have many times walked through the back door of my house and stood on the porch and could hear the afternoon lunch bell ring. A well to familiar sound. As I turn the corner onto my street in my new car, coming from what most in my neighborhood would consider an excellent job, I wonder what made me so different.

I have been given the opportunity to speak to a group of girls about relationships at Fairwood tomorrow, before I go speak with them I have decided to take a little walk down memory lane. Each time I have been asked to speak at Fairwood, I have never turned it down. Turning the key on the door to my home I wonder what I will say to them. Currently I have found that many students from Fairwood do not graduate from high school, those who have graduated from high school, have been incarcerated, have had children in their teenage years, or worse have died only a year or two shortly after high school graduation. I am wondering what I could say to girls who could possibly be facing this same future, or what could I learn from them.

Today, is my day off. It is a great opportunity for me to reflect back. I am starting my day off going to Ohio Dominican, the college I graduated from. As, I make the walk from the parking lot to the walk way that cuts through the Student Center and the gym. It does not surprise me that it is like walking into a time machine. Everything looks very much the same way I left it. As I cross Sunbury road and follow my mother to the old Science Building, St. Albert’s Hall. As we enter through the double doors that lead to the second floor, the smell of fresh paint greets me, a scent that is not familiar to my nose in this building. The interior has recently been remodeled. My mother tells me that the university began renovations on the interior of this building the summer of my graduation nearly two years ago.

I am sitting in on my mother’s Spanish class. The professor is the third to enter the class Dr. Martinez, a middle aged balding man, with a thick salt and pepper beard as my mother calls it. In hearing my mother’s description of him, and her explanation of several medical procedures he has undergone that has caused him to miss several semester’s at a time. I imagined a shorter, older gentlemen, who shuffled his feet when he walked. Another woman enters the room, she is introduced to me as Sandra. I had noticed her walking up to the building through the window. She appeared much younger at a distance, her face appeared smooth from lines that would be distinct to the age she appeared to be. Upon a closer glance, I notice the ever present smile lines when she is introduced to me, however, even then she does not appear to be much older than me.

 Once the early morning quiz is complete, I realize that the class only has four students and today I make five. Ohio Dominican prides itself for having small classroom sizes, the largest size classroom I can remember being in was about thirty students. As the class begins and the students engage in reviewing medical terms in Spanish. Being of Hispanic descent, I am instantly engaged in the conversation, and I am not surprised that I am learning new words for different forms of cancer and other medical illnesses.  A few times my mother looks over and smiles. She is naturally being herself everywhere she goes, the ‘class clown’ as I call her after she ask how my observation of her went. She has the entire class laughing hysterically and she pokes fun at Dr. Martinez’s intense passion for coffee. There is no wonder I have continued on through school, my mother is a semester from achieving her degree in Spanish and Education, and I will be there when she crosses the stage, just as she has done for me. Despite it all she never gave up, I give her a quick hug and wave telling her that I would see her later.

As a child education was always an important factor to my life. My mother has stated to me before, “I am happy you are the child that always loved going to school.” It is true I have always loved to learn, even now, I still love the feel of being surrounded by books and being connected to the great thinkers of the past, and present. On my way now, back to my car I take in the scene of the campus one last time before I continue on my day. The trees are just beginning to blossom, several trees are lined along the walk way that leads to the Sunbury crosswalk. The breeze is blowing and the larger trees are providing shade from an already hot morning sun. Several students are making their way to classes, several groups and pairs are walking together their chatter swept up by the quietness of the campus. I hurry across the cross walk and make the walk back to my car. It strikes me how many times I made this walk through every weather, however, the spring months have always been my favorite.

Now, making the drive from Ohio Dominican to Fairwood elementary I take one last look through my rearview mirror similar to what I did on graduation day. The more I drive away from campus I begin to notice the small changes between the lush greenery that surrounds the campus, and the polished homes that neighbor the University. As appose to homes that appear unkempt, and abandon. Homes that have extensive damage. The closer I get to my home I drive down Bryden road, the street I drive through each night after work, I notice some homes completely redone and enhanced, while others have been abandoned and left to ruins. I live in a zip code that once was well kept and housed the high-class residents of the city. However, as new developments in higher end neighborhoods, and the introduction of drugs, gangs and violence has plagued the area for quite some time.

Once I pull into the parking space in front of my house, I decide to take the four minute walk to Fairwood, the elementary school I attended as a child. I began classes at Fairwood at age six, a month after my sixth birthday and two months after moving to the United States. Walking up to the school, the exterior remains the same. I greet my sister who is waiting for me in the small parking lot that lines a small area about 50 feet from the school building. She is surprised that I decided to make the walk. The neighborhood has changed, it is not dangerous during the day or night, and the streets are clear and quiet. It typically remains this way for months at a time, however, every now and then something happens that awakens the block and suddenly the quiet police presence becomes heavy police patrol cars.  Several homes that once housed plenty of children who attended Fairwood, have become rundown or abandoned, while my street remains untouched from the times.

I am meeting with a group of sixth grade girls today. I took time off from work Tuesday afternoon to speak with them about relationships. A subject that I am only a professional in my own rights, but have not been licensed by any educational institution. Today, on my day off I have decided to approach the matter a little in a more casual environment, wearing slightly torn carpi pants, a t-shirt and sandals, instead of the business attire I sported on Tuesday. 

There are six girls and I seated in a warm classroom, that I remember being the classroom next door to my first grade classroom, I am even lead up the stairs alongside the classroom. I begin the discussion about relationships by asking a question. Each girl is attentive as I speak, hanging on my every word, in my mind I am hoping that I am saying the right things, saying that one thing that helped me years ago, not only with relationships but with life. There is one girl that has expressed the goals she has in her life and future career. As I make my way around the circle, Twelve year old Ava, sits up and explains what she believes is the difference between love and relationships. “I believe that relationships is like when you like a boy and he likes you back and you guys are friends.” I smile and ask, “What does love mean to you?” She smiles shifting her eyes from the other girls in the room and back to me several times before your happens. “Love means that someone loves you no matter what.” The discussion goes on for about twenty minutes, before the bell rings and their lunch period is over. Ava walks with me out the door and whispers she has another question. She gives me a scenario about a boy that broke up with her to be her friend. After I respond to her question I begin to talk to her about her career goals, she expresses so much passion about becoming a lawyer, I study her as her hands are moving rapidly as she talks and the big smile on her face gives away her excitement. Before she leaves she hugs me tightly, before saying goodbye and runs down the hallway before turning to wave at me.

I take every chance to speak with young girls for that moment. Especially at this school, because although I had my mother, I had friends who walked side by side with me from this school, girls who I have seen later in life. From the group of five girls I played with in the street back when children played outside I and another girl who lives across the street from me made it through our teenage years without becoming effected by teen pregnancy. From all the girls I played with only I made it this far in school. How did I make it? Someone believed in me, someone saw something different in me and pushed me to pursue my dreams, and like always my mother was right there by my side. When she speaks to people about our successes in life she always says, “I had help raising my children alone, I know God was with me. I do not know what I would have done without His guidance.”

Taking the walk back home with my sister, the feel of the air is similar to the spring air of years ago, and as we reach my house, ready to get into the car to do some shopping for dinner, I look up at the sky and smile deep down showing how grateful I am for all that I have.