I’ve written about how students whose ability to read remains at the elementary school level are likely to fail at college. But there are other reasons, terrible reasons, why even the most prepared student might fail, through no fault of their own.
I remember Madison as a confident young woman, straightforward and honest. Once, she came in late for class, wearing sunglasses and sporting a new hair-do. While her hair, usually parted on the left, that day was parted on the right and combed far forward, obscuring part of her face in a style an actress from the World War II era, Veronica Lake, popularized. But, Ms. Lake was too far in the past for Madison to know who she was. “An experiment,” I thought to myself. “A new look.”
Madison took her seat and opened her notebook as the class continued. When it ended, she remained in her seat, waiting for the others to file out of the room. As she had been absent, I assumed she wanted to know what she missed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here Friday,” she began. “But, my sister, who’s bipolar, attacked me. She lifted her hair and removed her glasses. She had a black eye.
I knew Madison’s story. She’s the middle child in a family of three girls. She wrote about how her mother, thrilled to be pregnant with another girl, explained to the young Madison that this sister, so much closer to Madison in age than her older sister, would look up to her. Madison was excited about being the friend of the new member of the family. She looked back upon those days, writing about them with a woman’s vocabulary about her authentic happiness as a toddler about to become a big sister. “It was not to be,” Madison wrote.
This child was different. Always angry. Always furtive, sneaking things from home, from other houses, from stores. Running away for the first time at 11. When the police returned the girl, she announced that she hated the family. At 15, she was living in a group home for troubled girls.
Then, there was Peter. I was never certain whether or not he was a traditional student. He was just above 6 feet tall and attractive, more so because of his gravitas than his features. He was a man, not a boy.
Peter emailed me on a Sunday night. He would not be in school, the next day, perhaps, for the next week. “My girlfriend of two years was sexually assaulted by her father and is in the hospital.”
Of two years. He included how long they were together, a phrase which wasn’t necessary. His message would have been complete without it, but, it was necessary for Peter. It was his subtext, his declaration. His inclusion told me, “We are committed to each other. We have a history. We will have a future.”
His paper, which he submitted a week later, was about what happens to the two families that are party to a rape: the family-to-be of the victim and her partner, and the family of the attacker. Both families, he wrote, are labeled in their communities.
I do not know what happened to Madison and her sister, or to Peter and the girl he loved. I worried about so many of my students because their lives were hard. Students like Alejandro, who struggled with English but who has the mind of an engineer and who faced his hardships with humor. Or, students like Jack, whose single mother suffered an industrial accident and who took on a second job so that he could pay the rent while she recovered.
But, I worry less about the Madisons and the Peters, the Alejandros and Jacks, because at the core of their personalities is an honesty that helps them to recognize their problems. I worry less about them because they understand community, solidarity and family. I worry less about them because when they faced difficulties, they drew on an innate sense of responsibility.
As for Madison and Peter, they are supported by the ability to write cogently about their problems. Sometimes, writing about the history of a situation and the personalities of the people in it, can bring the situation to closure.
It’s my hope that they met their goals, that they graduated, found careers, found love, and found contentment.
Susan Wozniak can be reached at columnists@gazettenet.com.