I was a troubled kid, angry, insecure, prone to violence and petty crime before I entered a preparatory seminary for high school. I was, in my own eyes, and the eyes of many who knew me, a failure and a disaster just waiting to happen.
Excerpt from ...but few are chosen: A Different Path to Coming of Age
I was haunted by fear of failure.
Every time I sat for an algebra or Latin test it felt like I was heading into a minefield, where one false step could kill any chance I had of staying in the seminary. Where could I go if I was asked to leave? Back to where I had come from, back to where I had already proven myself a failure? I buried myself in study, a practice I’d never considered committing to before. Now my dreams—night dreams and daydreams—were overrun by an image of me sitting in the back of the chapel with my suitcase.
Organized study periods proctored by priests made studying easier than it had been in Lowell. No street games to distract me; everyone was studying at the same time. When regular Saturday morning work details were finished and lunch was over, I’d go to the library with a pile of books while other boys were playing sports or relaxing. Sitting alone, I’d pull at my hair and swear under my breath as I struggled to understand algebraic algorithms and Latin declensions. I’d spend Sunday afternoons the same way. Occasionally, I’d slip off into daydreams of touch football on Myrtle Street. Ray Coleman, dancing and dodging around boys trying to tag him, me leaping for a pass. Touchdown! I would jerk awake, angry for having wasted time.
One Saturday afternoon as I sat studying a Latin assignment I was startled by a voice behind me.
“What are you doing here, Michael?” It was Father Peter, dressed in sweats and sneakers, a basketball tucked under one arm. He didn’t look much older than many of the college students at St. John’s.
“Studying, Father.”
“It seems that every time I come by here on a weekend you’re here.”
“I don’t want to flunk out, Father.”
“Listen, Michael, all work with no rest isn’t going to make you a better student; all it’s going to do is exhaust you. Go upstairs and get into gym clothes and meet me down here.”
We played basketball that afternoon, Father Peter and I. Other boys who were playing invited us to join them, but Father Peter told them, “Another time,” and took me to a side court and began teaching me how to dribble and shoot. That was my introduction to a game I would come to love and to a priest I would never cease to admire.
Eventually, as a result of Fr. Peter’s encouragement, I would become a starter on the school’s varsity basketball team—and an honor roll student.
...but few are chosen: A Different Path to Coming of Age is now available at Amazon.com. In it you will find other examples of how teachers positively influence young lives.
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