I know a woman, part 2

I know of a woman who spends her evenings perched behind a sheet of plywood that blocks curious eyes.

I wish I could say that I do really know her. Where she was born, what she enjoys doing, how she feels. If I knew her, I would tell you how old she is and maybe even her nationality. If I talked to her, met her, I could at least tell you those things and give her that small piece of human dignity.

Instead, I turned away from the carnival booth declaring “Smallest woman in the world!” and refused to pay the admittance to step behind the plywood and look upon her, or even to see if the promises were true: “You talk to her, She talks to you!”

I could only stand there and wonder how this woman’s life came to this. What circumstances could have led her to this circus of a life. When did her disability became an oddity on display. How does she feel when they peer at her, night after night, like an animal at the zoo.

And, how does she feel that I won’t look at her? That my discomfort borders on nausea.

The truth is that my shame is greater than hers. I am ashamed that I live in a society that allows her situation. I am ashamed that my community that is usually so caring, and the rodeo organizers, accepts it. I am ashamed that I can’t turn my disgust into action.

Now look who feels like the smallest woman in the world.

I know a woman

I know a woman who is battling cancer. It’s a fight to the death. She is a wife and mother. So of course.

One of the last times I spoke with her before her most recent hospital stay, I was on a beach in Florida, not my usual quiet home office. Toes in the sand, I listened as she gave me a writing assignment, and watched 11 bikini-clad teen-age girls I had brought there for a soccer tournament dip their toes in the winter-cool water.

The girls’ laughter, the seagulls calling above and the surf hitting shore were sounds surely she could hear. So I fessed up. I’m the team manager, I told her, and I’d be returning home at the end of the week when the girls finished their four soccer matches. Then I would get started right away.

That’s when she told me that her own son once played a lot of soccer. When her battle began, however, several years ago, he gave it up. Not, she tells me, because of the logistics of getting to practice and games and all the time that playing youth soccer can suck out of a family’s schedule.
But because he knew she couldn’t be there.

Like a blast of sea air, she delivered a gift to me that I will carry for the rest of my mothering years. Out went the frustration of planning this team trip. Gone was the worry about the time I was spending away from my desk and the money it was costing us. Forever banished were the thoughts that I would never volunteer for such a task again.

The call ended and I stood up. Years’ worth of playing soccer-mom and all that means flashed past my eyes. The sun shone, and as I approached the water’s edge, I could see my beautiful daughter, now almost grown and nearly ready to leave for college.

And I could see this chance I had with her, and the team she’s played with since middle school, in a whole new light.

Test anxiety

As with most high school and middle school students in San Antonio, the Providence Catholic School planner shows it’s time for final exams. Most of us can still relate to the annual stress of wondering how you will recall everything you learned way back in January and answer all questions before the buzzer goes off, then pray for a grade that will move your average up at least a little more.

But a cause for tears?

For some, sadly, yes. Certainly not because they didn’t learn the material. In a school like Providence Catholic, where class sizes are small, homework is considerable, teaching styles are geared to single-gender tactics, self-discipline apparent, and the caring faculty willingly provides 1:1 tutoring, the students know not just the basics, but college-level material as well.

And, according to some studies, graduation from both high school and college is ultimately more likely to happen for Latino students who attend Catholic schools than those who attend public schools. In a city like San Antonio, where the drop-out and teen pregnancy rates remain some of the highest in the country, a Catholic education can have an exponential impact on a girl’s life, her current and future family, and her entire community.

San Antonio is blessed with many good Catholic schools that have a long history of contributing much in the way of leadership and brainpower to the community, and will continue to do so. Yet, for families who choose Catholic school, and commit to paying monthly tuition for the opportunity, this time of year can be stressful for those whose accounts are not yet paid in full. Per policy, the schools cannot administer final exams to such students until their tuition is paid.

Providence, like most Catholic schools, does its part by offering payment options and tuition assistance. The bleak reality is that the economy has hurt enrollment in all private schools, and it costs more every day to operate a school, attract new students and pay teacher salaries.

In recognition of these challenges and the impact these schools can make, the San Antonio Area Foundation recently awarded Providence Catholic School with a grant of $10,000 in Bridge Funding that will make a tremendous difference in many families’ lives. Other donors this year include area foundations like Goldsbury, Strake and Scanlan, generous alums, and friends to the Congregation of Divine Providence.

In one recent situation, a struggling family saw their tuition account paid up with grant money, creating a brighter future for a student whose focus is now where it should be for a 16-year-old girl: She will study and take her final exams, and keep working toward that college-prep diploma.

Previously, the student had planned to drop out and take on a minimum wage job to help support the family. That was her solution. We gave her a different, more hopeful, one.

She has dried her tears and sees her future a little more clearly now.

An ode to liberty

Though the neon lights are still shining red along the edges of the tall windows, the mix-matched chairs are stacked neatly on the tables.

That’s all I can see now when I stop at the intersection of East Josephine and Avenue A.

Before tonight, I always came to a full stop at that corner – never rolling to a stop as I’m apt to do, but braking and pulling forward just slow enough to provide me a few extra seconds to gaze on the scenes in each window, like a painting.

In one, there would be two women, perhaps my age or a little older, smiling and talking over dinner and a glass of wine. In another, a couple, most likely both coming from their hectic jobs downtown for a relaxing dinner. And then in the corner window, a table for four, friends nodding to one another as they dined on the simple fusion food at Liberty Bar.

Those windows and the scenes they held gave me moments of liberty from the duties of motherhood, which nearly every day take me past this old favorite of a restaurant on my way to the children’s school. I played the “imagine” game, making up stories about the people at each table and why they were there, or just took comfort in knowing that, here on this quiet corner of downtown, people were enjoying a nice dinner together, even if I could not. I could always count on that.

But, now, true to the announcement they made months ago, the restaurant appears to have vacated this leaning, old building in favor of another piece of downtown property. Far from this spot where I found a kind of momentary freedom that I will dearly miss.

All together now

I may be preaching to the choir here.

But if your children attend private schools, or even public schools that require a strict uniform or school dress code, you know the positives in this mandate.

First, for those of us pinching the budget pennies with plenty of school-age children to purchase a clothing and shoe wardrobe for every time they grow another inch, we know that school uniforms are durable – hurray for hand-me-downs — and cost less than street clothes. They blur the line between the haves versus have-nots. And school uniforms eliminate the morning routine issues revolving around the inevitable arguments that begin with, “What am I going to wear today?” and end with, “Oh, no, you’re not leaving the house like that.”

Best of all, school uniforms and tight dress codes put the modesty back in school dress, allowing the school focus to be back where it belongs: Learning.

Today, I found a whole new reason to be sold on the school uniform.

Shared solidarity.

My friend left us last week and, at her funeral, we said our final farewells. She was gone too soon and there were many tears. In the front row, of course, were her three children, two in college and one a junior in high school, and her brave husband.

From the pew where I sat with my own husband, I could just barely see them. It was a wall-to-wall crowd. Behind me, and above me in the balcony, sat hundreds of young men and women, her son’s high school classmates, teammates and friends.

All in uniform.

Maroon plaid skirts, white blouses, knee-high socks, khaki pants and ties. Hundreds of them. They came together, to support their friend, a member of their school community, and they sang.

As “Then Sings My Soul …” rang out from behind me, together, these fresh, young voices formed a whole that filled the emptiness of our hearts that we longed for. They represented not only strength in numbers, but community at its best. The school uniforms somehow created a symbolic unity for those of us who didn’t even belong to the school. Our shared suffering was comforted by a communion of souls.

My musically-gifted friend would have clasped her hands in joy. And I believe she did.

Never say no, and here’s why

Read my guest blog post at Hope for Women magazine online.

A House Restored

On the very spot where Ben Milam issued his well-known challenge, “Who will go with old Ben Milam into San Antonio?” Where Winston Churchill’s own mother and other dignitaries visited. And in the home of a woman who gave us the Battle of Flowers parade, the city’s first free library, the Art League and Symphony …

History will be made once again as Providence Catholic School, 1215 N. St. Mary’s Street, officially dedicates the Najim Campus Center – Drought House, Thursday, May 13.

One of only a few such historic homes from its era in this part of downtown still remaining, the home of Henry and Ethel Drought was built by Atlee B. Ayres in 1901, and has served as the centerpiece of the Providence campus since the Congregation of Divine Providence purchased the property in 1950.  

With the addition of three middle-school grades at Providence in recent years, and the subsequent expanding student population, the $1.8 million Drought House project began in 2005 to capitalize on the vacant space, and restore the original beauty of the home while adapting it for use as a Campus Center.

The grand entry and main floor, which features an ornate staircase, two imported-tile hearths, original wood floors, leaded bay windows and soaring ceilings, will serve as a special event space, available by appointment to the Providence community and general public. A catering kitchen and accessible restrooms update the 3,000-square-foot level. The second floor of the Center has been converted into a state-of-the-art Library and Learning Resource Center for use by the school’s 350 students and faculty. The third floor will house advancement and admissions offices and staff, relieving space in the main building for classrooms. An elevator provides access between all three floors.

For all who step on to the historic property along the banks of the San Antonio River, the Drought House is a focal point and landmark, making it hard to imagine the home falling to the fate of a wrecking ball and demolition crew. Yet, nearly 14 years ago, that was its destiny.

The restoration and renovation was made possible by a $1 million grant from the Harvey E. Najim Foundation, as well as generous gifts from James and Estela Avery (‘70), the San Antonio Conservation Society, The Scanlan Foundation, The Strake Foundation, and many other alumni and friends of Providence.

Last month, the project was recognized by the San Antonio Downtown Alliance with a BEST Award in the category of Adaptive Use – Work in Progress.

Work on restoration of the house is under the direction of historical architectural consultant Lloyd W. Jary, FAIA, CSI, and contractor Bill Cox of Construction Specialties. The principal of Providence Catholic is Sister Antoinette Billeaud, CDP.

The Dedication and Ribbon-Cutting ceremony begins at 10 a.m. on the campus. The House will be available for tours following the ceremony, and by appointment after the event (210-224-6651).