Year's End

June 6th was graduation day for the students at Verb.

It has been nearly two weeks since the school year ended, and I have thought about writing several times, but never did. I guess I haven't been sure what to say. There have been a lot of great memories this year, and despite all the difficulties that came with working at the school, adjusting to it, and feeling competent, when I watched the students cross the stage and receive their diplomas, none of that mattered.

Because it's not about me. Yes I came here to help in some way, to contribute something, get to know students, their situations, their life, but it's not about me. Everything that is done at Verbum Dei, everything I have worked for, it isn't for me, it is about giving these students a chance to go onto something better.

I sat and watched some really amazing young men take those first steps into a new, uncharted future. And with each step I could see them breaking long cycles of poverty, violence, drug abuse, gangbanging, and generally unjust living situations. I believe in a world where graduates of Verbum Dei will work to make the world a better place for their children, who will fight and work hard to make a difference so that others do not have to overcome odds that they had to face just to graduate high school.

I was privileged yesterday to sit in at a meeting for the Kairos leaders for next year and listen to them share their stories. Stories of families plagued by violence, unemployment, drug abuse, fighting, and the threat of gangs in the neighborhood. It brought home to me how INCREDIBLY AMAZING these young men are. They are so truly, truly amazing. These are some really good students, leaders on campus, and just generally lively, friendly, motivated young men. We forget so easily here some times just how much horrible stuff the boys deal with on a daily basis. Compared to some of their stories, school must seem so unimportant. But they persevere, and do it, and do well.

The same can be said for so many of the Verb boys.

And so it was with pride that I watched the seniors graduate--knowing how much they've overcome. I remembered stories and moments I've had with so many of them, and was incredibly thankful for the chance to know them, to spend time with them, and perhaps contribute to a tiny portion of their high school experience. I'm just so thankful to have gotten to witness and learn so much from them. To have laughed with them, and to congratulate a few of them.

Baccalaureate mass was Wednesday, June 5th. It was a very long ceremony where all the academic awards, scholarships, and everything were announced. Lots of really great achievements on display. Every year the school also recognizes its JVs, and I was presented with a big bouquet of flowers, but more appreciated were a couple of cheers I heard in the crowd. It made me feel like maybe I had done a little OK.

At graduation salutatorian and valedictorian spoke, and both gave good speeches. I got to say congrats to a couple of the students, but most of them were busy, understandably, with family. I got a few thank yous in psasing, though, that were sincere, and it was moving.

The end of the year is strange... In a lot of ways I hate to leave. Really feeling as if I only found my footing halfway through. But the thank yous, the compliments as the end of the year approached, (including being told the next JV has a lot to live up to by one of the students...sorry Laura :)) and even the sense that a few of them were sad to see me go made it all feel worth it.

I don't know if I'll ever see the boys again; I'd like to come back at some point and visit if I could. At the least it would be nice to go for graduation or something.

But who knows? All that I am sure of is this: I am incredibly thankful for my year with Verbum Dei. I am incredibly proud of all of the students, and have learned so much from them.

Commitment Day

On May 3rd, Verb celebrated National Commitment Day with its fifth Commitment Day Ceremony. It was a chance for the seniors to celebrate their four years of work and proudly stand up in front of their teachers, peers, family, and media and declare where they would be going. It was an awesome afternoon. One student began to tear up at the emotions of the moment and was embraced by his classmates. It was a moving moment, and one I was not at all surprised to see. These young THUGS have proved to me over and over how much they are there for one another and have challenged their gender stereotypes many times over.

The ceremony is also a great moment for the underclassmen to see what is in store for them in a few years. Soon, they'll be up on that stage! I wonder which one of them'll be crying (although, it could be a transfer student...)

Verb has boasted 100% college acceptance for its graduates the last few years. Now, not all of them are four year universities but that's still some impressive statistics! Especially for where this school is located. So it was exciting when all the students got up there. There were students accepted all over the country. One student is heading to Georgetown, several to St. John's in Minnesota, one to Seton Hall, two to UCLA, several HBCUs and a number of Cal States, UCs, and community colleges.

One of my favorite moments was finding out one of the students would be going to study at Le Cordon Bleu! This guy is one of the most complex young men I have ever met. He is a former gang member and has a bit of a tough streak to him, but he's also a class clown. And then he was a Kairos Retreat Leader and had some truly beautiful insights and a deeply caring and compassionate soul. There are times I think about him and my heart breaks... to be a former gang member in high school? To have lived such a hard life, to see friends die, and then to be as genuine and encouraging and open with his classmates as a leader on Kairos? Now to see him planning to go to Le Cordon Bleu and do what he wants. To be a chef? That's damn cool. He has been one of the absolute gifts of this year. And although he is currently worrying over whether or not he's going to pass his math class and actually walk in graduation, he's still going to graduate and do what he wants with his life. It might not be the easiest road, but he'll get there. He helped me more than I could express to him on retreat, but his awesome work with our small group and with all of the other students on Kairos, the sharing of his story helped me to realize how special this year was. It helped me to realize what is possible in this kind of work. His honesty opened my eyes to realities I didn't know existed, and he put a human face on it. A human face of perseverance, laughter, and compassion despite hardships.

Back to commitment day:

Like I said, it was a really exciting afternoon. There was a bittersweet tinge to it, though.

Yes, most of the students will be going to college. Some may not. That is a shame.

Many students got accepted to their top choice and cannot afford to go. That...that is what upsets me most. That these guys were able to do all the work they needed to do, they worked hard, did all sorts of extracurriculars, but are still barred from where they really want to go. Not because they didn't work hard enough. Not because they don't deserve it. But because they don't have the money. It's infuriating. This is the system. Most of these guys worked way harder than I ever did to get through high school, and still they are barred from entrance for purely economic reasons. It still makes me mad. It makes me so angry that they have to grow up in the neighborhoods they grow up in. It makes me angry that a lot of the students are affected by violence and drugs and the pressure of the 'hood. It makes me angrier the more I think about it.

Students are trying to make the most of it. They're still going to college. Maybe they'll transfer. Maybe it'll work out and this school that wasn't their first choice will be where they find their calling. Who knows? I didn't expect to be where I am today when I went to Cabrini. Heck, I never even expected to go to Cabrini.

The path that lays before these boys, though it may not be what they might have chosen, is still incredibly bright. Brighter than they may see right now, and still so much more than what so many in these country have waiting for them.

 And I am so excited for them and proud of them.

Beneath the Surface

It's a gray day today in Los Angeles. I don't know why it bothers me so much here. Like I expect every day to be sunny and warm here. Like the sun owes it to me to be always shining here. I come from somewhere that rain is common, where weather is seasonal. And yet here...any time the sun fails to warm the streets of this city, I get angry, like I'm entitled to be comfortable at all times simply because I'm in LA.

I think the sun makes people selfish here.  Maybe it's part of what contributes to the fictitiousness of the city, the surface-level, self-absorbedness of it all.

This city forgets itself.

What people know about LA--what people talk about is not the history, the truth of LA. The richness and texture of it.

I hate LA.

But I hate the traffic the industry the surfaceness. Los Angeles is known for one thing--Hollywood. The celebrities, the movie industry.

I saw yesterday photos commemorating the 21st anniversary of the Los Angeles Riots. I didn't even know they had ever happened. I had never heard of them. No one talks about them. I heard about the Watts riots in the 60s, vaguely, before I came, but never heard a thing about them since I've been here. The actual culture, the actual history, of Los Angeles is veiled by "LOS ANGELES," the Universal Studios, Beverly Hills, glamorous life that...doesn't encapsulate even a portion of what this city is.

I was reading Steve Martin's most recent book, An Object of Beauty, at one point he describes a view from a particular point in the city (emphasis mine), "The views that skimmed just over the top of the city gave sunsets an extra redness and positively affirmed that Los Angeles could be beautiful."

There's a poignant truth in there. There's hints of something lovely. Palm trees are nice to look at, it's right near the beach (but so is New Jersey...), there are some nature trails and hikes...but, as a whole LA is... freeways and brown grass. Stone buildings and gated windows. The things that I have found the most beauty in in LA is architecture; man made things.

The LA Riots resulted from class and race issues. Inequality and prejudice. Economic disparity.

Some of these things are better...race relationships have improved, in general. Gang violence is less than it was.

But class...class and economic disparity. That hasn't changed. Polls and surveys tell the story as much as anything else; people in LA feel that the economic inequality has only grown. And while there is not that same anger as a result of racial persecution and abuse of police power, people are still being crushed and oppressed by this city. By a lack of awareness, a lack of depth. There is a glut of consumerism and self-absorption.

But drive down South Central Ave and in seconds you see the truth... There is poverty and homelessness. S Central is nothing like Downtown, nothing like Beverly Hills.

Walk from the heart of downtown just a short ways and you hit Skid Row. The homeless capital of the United States.

But there are some beautiful things about Los Angeles...

There is Homeboy and Boyle Heights. There is Chinatown and Koreatown. The shops on S Central owned by families. Small shops. Local vendors. Latino cultural celebrations.

This city forgets itself. It could be beautiful, if only the sun didn't shine so much.


For more info about the LA Riots (I read a lot about them today)
The Wikipedia Page (centralizes a lot of news articles...fascinating.)
RIOT IN LOS ANGLES: Pocket of Tension; A Target of Rioters, Koreatown Is Bitter, Armed and Determined
George Bush's Televised Address about the Riots
Want to Understand the 1992 LA Riots? Start with the 1984 LA Olympics
Korea Town changes as a result of "Saigu"

The city during the riots in '92 Click for gallery.

First time I've ever done personal journaling as a comic book.

Blessings

I've written a lot on my struggles this year. So much so that it might even seem to those who have followed this blog that it has been all-terrible. It hasn't, but there have been many, many struggles and I miss my home and loved ones terribly. Work has been difficult, and adjusting and trying to figure out who I am outside of Cabrini and academics has been a challenge. But, I think that even in that way JVC has been a blessing: it has allowed me to see things clearly and appreciate them even more. That's not to say I took Sara, my family, or my friends at home for granted, but I definitely see even more now how dear they are all to me. How much I am thankful to be from Philadelphia, to have lived in Cinnaminson and have my friends there, to have gone to Cabrini and to been encouraged and been so involved. I am thankful for all of the events that brought me to JVC.

It has also been a blessing in that this year is a safe place to struggle and grapple with oneself. Were I to come to work and be so hopelessly overwhelmed outside of the realm of JVC it might be more difficutl to admit those things to coworkers or supervisors; this safe feels safer. It has given me a chance to look at my strengths, my weaknesses, and see how the things that make me who I am can operate in a workplace setting whereas before they operated either in isolation: academics, or in space of leadership, safety, and guidance such as with Campus Ministry at school. I've learned to try and accept the fact that I am introverted and try not to fit into the extrovert mold; there is a place for those who operate and run things without being in your face. Standing back and encouraging in simpler and smaller ways and letting participants participate and own their experience instead of pushing and being incredibly hands-on. I could never imagine being an orientation leader at Cabrini becuase I cannot do this (and am sometimes annoyed by it--but that's me. Haha.)

Though I don't often feel as if I bring much to Verbum Dei, it has given me countless blessings. Just seeing the boys interact with faculty and staff, listening to their jokes (good, bad, and vulgar), listening to them debate over what they are learning in class, and watching them work to get into college, watching football and soccer games on senior square... Every once in a while I remember where the boys come from and am ever more impressed and proud of them for where they are and what they are accomplishing. They are not "boys from underserved neighborhoods," they're just boys. Verb boys.

Hearing stories of the success some alumni have had has been a blessing. Seeing Jesse come back and teach here and give back to the school that gave him so much and tell his story to the students here has been a blessing.

Watching the brotherhood form at Verbum Dei has been a particular gift. Faculty and staff here talk all the time about "building brotherhood," and encourage students to trust one another. This could all be simply fluff, buzzwords for the students to groan at. The freshman retreat was all about starting that relationship. The new students might not have understood what they were being told, many didn't believe or didn't buy into what they were being told, that these people they are going to share the next four years with will ever be more than just classmates. Most of them are right out of public school, coming from a space with no trust, no partnership, no people to really rely on. They might have had friends but what Verb promises them; people to help shoulder their burdens, keep them grounded, they can't understand the deeper levels of friendship. Obviously some of that is age, some of it is their surroundings.

But the brotherhood at Verb is real, it is palpable, and it has moved me on many occassions. Even by the end of freshmen retreat I think the boys were starting to grasp it, as they slung arms around each others' shoulders and belted out "Lean on Me" together.

I've seen the brotherhood in action at places that might make a lot of sense: retreats. Junior retreat I wrote about, it was beyond words the level of trust, honesty, and vulnerability I saw in that room. Similarly, on the senior Kairos retreat, students shared of themselves so deeply. Admitted their deepest secrets, talked about their struggles (some incredibly heart-wrenching) and made apologies to fellow classmates.

I've seen it in simple ways, as well.

Counseling, consoling, and commisserating with one another over college denials in the office, encouraging them as they worry over where they may be accepted. On my recent trip to Utah I saw it as one student rested with his back against another and his head on his shoulder. "The freshmen look at the seniors and they probably think we're gay, the way the seniors interact. But they don't really get it, the friendship." It's true--these boys become closer than anyone I ever saw in high school; it is built into the mission of their education. It fosters trust, support, and care. Young men from the neighborhoods that Verb serves are taught not to be vulnerable, not to trust, to be closed off, to be tough and isolated. It's illustrated by the disturbingly high rate of absent fathers for our students here. But this school...it gives them the space to be with one another, to trust one another, and to grow in true friendship. The boys look at one another and they aren't just classmates, they're brothers, all of them. I'm not saying this from a faculty and staff point of view, this is what students have told me both in words and action. I can't even remember how  many times I've heard students here tell others that if they ever need anything, I'm here for you.

I saw it when one of our students here could no longer go on the Navajo Nation Immersion trip because his mother was seriously ill. He came to our sendoff prayer service that Saturday morning. He didn't know why, he said, he just felt like he had to be there. He needed somewhere he felt safe and supported. We prayed over him that morning, he received hugs from all the other students going. Well wishes and prayers.

An hour into our drive that day, we stopped because we had learned his mother passed away. We prayed for him and every student gave an intention. For the whole week of our trip, he was present in every action, every reflection, every prayer. The students didn't forget and kept him in their thoughts. What kind of high school builds that kind of support among its students? These weren't even all students who knew him, but they all cared deeply for his well-being and comfort.

I've been moved in strange moments. Honors and student of the months ceremonies when the principal lists off more than a dozen students each month, reading the descriptions and reasons from each teacher as to why the student is getting their award. At grad-at-grad week, a week dedicated to developing consciousness of the school's goals for its "graduates at graduation," during the closing ceremony when Isaiah and a few other students belted out a rocking tune for the celebration. At mass when Isaiah again (on vocals), and Miguel (on guitar) gave an incredible performance at communion (to a resounding applause following). Listening to the choir at mass. The way students on the immersion trip moved to the back during our hike to chat with the slower people in the back.

A lot of this amazing atmosphere is fostered by the faculty and staff who care deeply for the students, hold them accountable, and give them endless support, sacrificing their weekends, afternoons, and evenings for the benefit of the students. Tireless effort from Martinique in college guidance, Karen in Campus Ministry, Krista in Christian Service, administration, and every teacher and every other person who works at this school.

Even more now than at Cabrini I've seen the amazing gift of Campus Ministry. By providing a safe space for encouragement and honesty, students grow in their understanding of themselves, of others, and sometimes God, and that allows them to come more together, to believe in themselves and to in turn encourage others. Campus Ministry did these things for me, but as I've worked at Verb I've seen it in action over and over. The JEDIS are an amazing group of students dedicated to helping others. Freshman Retreat got students thinking about their life and what they might be able to gain from this unique experience. Junior Retreat gave students the opportunity to become vulnerable with their classmates. Kairos tore down walls, started to heal old wounds, and showed students that they are loved by their friends and family.

At Kairos I sat and watched students play Monopoly and that moment I was in awe of where I was. I was sitting at a table with a former gang member, a former drug dealer, and in the room were victims of abuse, people with addictions, and I was left speechless; dumbstruck. Even those that may not have faced tragedy still grew up surrounded by the hardships of the inner-city. Pressures of drugs, gangs. Surrounded by violence. And each has undoubtedly been taught outside of Verb that they will never leave that place.

The boys at Verbum Dei have seen so much, been through so much. Some don't even realize just how much or how unjust their situation has been. And yet they continue to be strong. To be intelligent. To be simply high school boys and teenagers. Many young men and women in this country are not given that opportunity: to just be teenagers. They are not given the opportunity to dream of and work for a better future, to escape the neighborhoods that trap so many. But at Verb they are given the freedom to just be.

It is a blessing to see this good work, to be part of it in a small way. And for that, despite struggles, despite hardships, despite an aching, unending homesickness, I am thankful for my time with Verbum Dei and all it has shown me and taught me.

True Heroes Under God

"You are all THUGS: True Heroes Under God."

If I could capture the essence of Verbum Dei, this brilliant piece of wordplay spoken by one of our JEDIS (Jesuit Educated Disciples in Service, the student campus ministry team), would be it. Verb is located in Watts, right on South Central Avenue and adjacent to the Nickerson Gardens Housing Projects, one of the largest housing projects in the US. Verb serves young men from the surrounding communities who come from low-income backgrounds. These inner-city boys have not had much access to quality education and many have not had much access to safety or stability. Verb provides that. The boys like to think of themselves as tough guys. They're teenagers, and most of them have huge egos. But they're much more than that outer bravado, more than just "thugs," which the world is most likely to think of a black or latino kid from South Central. They are "men with and for others."

I’ve struggled a lot this year with feeling useless. It's been difficult dealing with homesickness, a long distance relationship, and community obligations. A lot of it crept into work. Sometimes I feel like I've made a mistake, or that I would be doing better for the people I love if I hadn't left. What am I really doing for the students at Verb? As an introvert, my job has been challenging. There are days I don't feel like I'm doing anything. I've sat and pondered and written and reevaluated the choices and experiences that brought me to Los Angeles. I've spent many long nights and shed a few tears because of this heartache. I've thought about leaving.

But something has kept me here the last six months; what exactly that is has eluded me. In many ways I feel like things would move forward in exactly the same way at my placement were I to leave. My contribution is pretty minimal, all things considered.

Did I really come here to make a difference? I don't think I ever truly believed I was going to change any lives. Sure, I thought I was better prepared for the transition and that I would be able to be more active and involved, but even if I were…would I recognize that? I have a hunch that at my job, when day-to-day I see students and am there for really nothing else than to hang out I wouldn't ever really feel like I was doing any good. I've helped out writing a few college essays, answered a few questions, but have I really done anything for the boys at Verb? I don't know. I probably never will. And so my job has been a struggle. Day-to-day I never know what work is going to be like. Some days I've sat and done little more than paperwork and punched service hours into an excel file. Other days I've sat and helped a student pour over his Common App supplements and essays. Chatted about video games during lunch.  What good are these things?

And so, again, I returned to what brought me here. That's when I realized: I came to LA for myself. This has been a harrowing realization. Is that selfish? I came here to learn. To discover more of myself and the world and my place in it. On more than one occasion before I came here I wondered if I would come away with things to write about.

Sometimes I feel exploitative, wanting these things. I can't imagine any JV doesn't feel this way at times. But I think it’s more self-important to think I could come here and fix anything or make some kind of significant impact or change a person's life. This isn't my world, I’m just a small part of it.

But, still, at work I struggle a lot with not doing much. My housemates have amazing jobs doing direct service work at placements in which they are integral parts of the operation. My title has "assistant" right there at the end of it.

I think the real selfishness is thinking that anything I do can really make a difference.

"Don't set out to change the world," Father Greg Boyle said at a conference I attended recently, "Set out to wonder how other people are doing. And the world will change around you."

Every once in a while things happen at work and I get why I'm here.

The quote I opened with was spoken at our Junior Retreat. The day closed with a simple activity: stand up if this statement applies to you. Statements included being victims of abuse (physical, sexual), feeling judged or unsafe because of race, coming from a single-parent household, knowing someone in a gang, having thoughts of suicide, drug use, feeling depressed more than happy, feeling fear walking down the street, and more. Far too many kids stood up for each and every statement. These are 16,17 year old boys. The amount that they've been through broke my heart. And then immediately after they repaired it and inspired me. The students went in a circle and said how they felt about the activity. Several of these boys defied their gender stereotypes and expressed their love for the entire class and thanked their classmates, said they would do anything for any one of their brothers. One student was so moved and angered by what people stood up for, and simply wanted to express his love for each person. He wanted to help anyone who ever needed him. He started to cry and the entire class came and embraced him. This is but a small slice of that two hours…and it certainly does it no justice.

I have never felt so privileged and humbled to be a witness to something.

And this, I think, is what I come to: maybe I am mostly importantly a witness. Maybe I'm not here to help any one individual, maybe I'm meant to be a voice, to share these stories… To cry out in anger how unjust this world can be for condemning these talented, loving, intelligent THUGs, simply because they were born here. To refuse to accept when people sit there and tell me that poverty is a result of laziness when these boys work so hard to get to college and everything in their life is stacked against them. When their parents or guardians work so hard to provide them with a quality education.

I never thought I'd save any lives…I just wanted to know their lives. And in the knowing, maybe I can help challenge others to see the reality that these boys live, simply because I was there to witness it.

A Mass for Peace

Today at Dolores Mission (the best and most life-giving parish church I've ever been to) there was a held a very special liturgy. DM is a parish in Boyle Heights, a community that has for many years dealt with violence. Today they held a liturgy in remembrance of those who have died as a result of gun violence. They had names projected at the front of the church. Several people in the assembly (too many) stood up and were invited to the altar to remember loved ones who have died because of gun violence. One parishioner shared his story of grieving for and coping with the death of his brother; the wounds may heal temporarily, but stories of other killings reopen them. It is a scar that will forever haunt him.

Father Scott gave a sermon about our country's addiction to violence (and that's what it is). He explained the need for a change in attitudes about guns because they so often find their ways into cities (and increasingly, suburbs) where so many are killed by guns annually around the country. This is so often forgotten: how common killings are. Sadly, it takes a string of deadly mass-shootings to bring this harrowing problem to light. Around 2009 research showed that more than 30,000 people are killed by firearms each year in this country; more than 30 shot and killed each day. 1/2 of them are between 18 and 35. Homicide is the second leading cause of death among 15-24 year-olds. These are the statistics that were read to us in mass. Additionally, Father Scott read this powerful letter to the editor he sent into  and was printed in the LA Times.

As the nation wrestles with the question of whether to ban assault weapons, people in our inner cities know a simple truth: There are too many guns on our streets, and this can be directly linked to the high numbers of homicides that are sadly a regular part of our lives.

This past summer there were four homicides within a span of 62 days within a square mile of Dolores Mission Parish, just a few miles east of downtown Los Angeles. Since 1980, when the Jesuits came to this parish, we have experienced the deaths of some 200 community members to gun violence.

Though not the only angle on the issue, I have to believe that if there were tighter gun control laws in our country, fewer guns would find themselves on the streets of our inner cities. And more of my parishioners would be alive.
The Rev. Scott Santarosa
Los Angeles

 I truly wish that so many people who claim that guns are not a problem could see this side of things. Yes, you live in the suburbs and in this wonderful world where the chances of violence are incredibly low, but there are so many--SO MANY--who are simply forced to live in areas where gun violence is rampant. They suffer threats of violence as simply a fact of life, and have to deal with the death of loved ones. And why? Because there are too many guns. Because they are minorities with low income. Hard working people, who simply have no other options. There is no reason for the most dangerous automatic weapons to be out there and so easy to access. There is no reason for it to be so EASY for guns to end up in the hands of those who would harm others.

Gun violence is not just the rare mass-shooting. It is a terrifying reality for people in low-income areas. For some of the students at Verbum Dei, for the parishioners of Dolores Mission. The children of Dolores Mission. One of my students for one of his college submission personal statements wrote about one day being mugged at gun point because he happened to be walking through a park that belonged to a gang that hated Mexicans. That isn't terribly uncommon in parts of this city and many others around the country.

I'm not going to bother rattling off statistics I actually did look up and research for this blog post. I don't want to be too political. But the fact is there are almost as many guns in this country as people. How that is OK with people I don't understand. How it is OK to suggest that to solve this country's violence problem we need MORE guns is horrifying.

Too many people are killed. We need a change in attitude in this country, a push for peace, not a push for more "self defense" that will, as many graphs, charts, statistics and surveys show, will most likely only increase the violence and cost more lives.

But hey, these killings aren't white kids en masse, so it isn't really happening, right?