Golarz: The power of an influential person in shaping the future of our youth
I was signing diplomas for our graduating seniors when my secretary Ruthie came in.
“Mr. Vic Jose is out here and would like to see you.”
Vic was a prominent businessman in town who’s soft spot was kids — rich, poor, black, white it didn’t matter.
“Vic, what can I do for you?”
“Ray, I have a great idea. Hear me out. I have come to understand that the difference between successful people and those not successful is that those who are successful have the rich resource of having prominent people who can talk for them. Those who end up not successful have no one. So, here’s my plan. I am going to adopt an elementary or middle school class of children. Each child will always get a birthday card and I will meet with their class a couple of times a year. They will know that if they run into trouble or are looking for a job, or whatever, I will be there for them.”
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I responded, “Vic, that’s wonderful. But you know we have nearly 200 classrooms of children.”
“Ray, I understand, so here is the rest of my plan. I am handing to you a list of the 90 most prominent doctors and business people of this community. Have your secretaries call each of them and invite them to a meeting here at the administration center of the school district. If any hesitate or are reluctant, tell them that Vic Jose is counting on them. They’ll come.”
Eighty attended the meeting. Vic gave his pitch enthusiastically and the response was heartwarming. Several even advised Vic that, if necessary, they would adopt two classes.
I have no statistics to judge this effort’s success. All I do know is that a great number of children had someone of prominence who could, and did, talk for them. Recently a mother told me, “My son, Mark, got a birthday card from his mentor for years and he prided that relationship into adulthood.”
There was a girl named Susan from Kentland, Indiana. Her dream was to attend Indiana University and eventually become a vet. She studied hard to realize that dream. But life was hard. Her dad was a hopeless addict.
To help the family, Susan took a job as a waitress part time, though part time often meant longer than that. In her junior year, she was driven to the university campus by her mother to submit all of her records. Her cousin Nancy, coming from Orleans, Indiana, met her there.
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Together they fell in love with the campus. Both girls had done well on standardized tests and each had 3.5 cumulative grade point averages. They were surprised that so many of the students on campus were not from Indiana. They came from all over the country and even from foreign lands. How could they compete?
Some months later, both girls got rejection letters and were advised to find a regional center. If they did well, then in two years they might be admitted to the main campus. But there were no close regional centers. Susan became a full time waitress to earn enough for a car, but that predictably didn’t happen. Nancy married and soon had a baby.
Over time, their dreams of college tragically faded. In their lifetimes neither girl ever again visited the main campus. It would have been too painful.
What if Vic Jose had been around? What if Nancy or Susan had someone of prominence to talk for them? Might Kentland now have a vet?
I know what I believe, how about you?
Raymond Golarz is co-author of “The Problem Isn’t Teachers” and “Sweet Land of Liberty” and former superintendent of the Richmond and Hobart schools. He is a Bloomington resident.
This article originally appeared on The Herald-Times: Columnist writes one person can change the course of a youth's life
