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    Behind Success: A Principal’S Reminisce
    Behind Success: A Principal’S Reminisce
    Behind Success: A Principal’S Reminisce
    Ebook103 pages1 hour

    Behind Success: A Principal’S Reminisce

    By Gil Francisco

    ()

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    About this ebook

    An urban high school principal is confronted with three conferences that drive him to "affectionate nostalgia", similar situations that played out during his early youth in New York City. Those experiences set the stage for conflict resolution and decision making. Issues such as racism, religion, politics as well as poverty and their effect on education are brought to light. The moving memoir is warm, humorous and at times poignant and raw.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherXlibris US
    Release dateAug 30, 2013
    ISBN9781483685052
    Behind Success: A Principal’S Reminisce
    Author

    Gil Francisco

    Gil Francisco" Suarez was born in Manhattan's West Side in a neighborhood near the northern end of Central Park once known as Manhattan Valley. A graduate of Cardinal Hayes High School in The Bronx, Gil pursued his undergraduate and graduate degrees in Kansas. His post graduate studies and certifications were received at Columbia University Teacher's College and New York University.

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      Book preview

      Behind Success - Gil Francisco

      Copyright © 2013 by Gil Francisco.

      Library of Congress Control Number:         2013914931

      ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4836-8504-5

                       Softcover       978-1-4836-8503-8

                       Ebook            978-1-4836-8505-2

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

      Rev. date: 08/27/2013

      To order additional copies of this book, contact:

      Xlibris LLC

      1-888-795-4274

      www.Xlibris.com

      Orders@Xlibris.com

      139780

      Contents

      Chapter I   Tough Love

      Chapter II   The Three Conferences

      Chapter III   The Stickball Game

      Chapter IV   Introduction To Racism

      Chapter V   Busted

      Chapter VI   The Belly Of The Beast

      Chapter VII   The Soap Box

      Chapter VIII   The Wall Of Fame

      Epilogue

      CHAPTER I

      Tough Love

      The appointment came within hours of her death, no time for mourning. The five years of watching her battle the dreaded disease that stole her keen intellect and precious memories rendered my eyes bone dry, and there wasn’t a tear left to shed. Alzheimer’s ravaged her brain to the point she didn’t remember how to swallow. It was always at midnight—yes, ’round midnight—that I felt like an orphan. Despite her advanced age, it was a goodbye that arrived much too soon.

      Too young to remember his goodbye, my father’s parting left no sigh or tear. Not there to guide me at the start, all he left was a rock in my heart. There was no understanding or reasoning for his departure—never explained, never discussed. Nonetheless, it was her maternal instinct, guidance, and strength that instilled "knock once, knock hard," the adage that let me know that the opportunity for a first impression comes once, that courage is better than cowardice, and that when tested, come strong.

      She would have said, No time to eulogize. Just do it.

      To this day, her words resonate loud and strong, "Por esto naciste macho."

      This is why you were born a man—that was her favorite dictum in such situations.

      (The very morning after her funeral, I entered the halls of Abraham Lincoln High School as new principal, with thoughts of Mom and all the tough love values she instilled.)

      All aspects of our youthful routines can best be described as no nonsense. To my grandmother’s chagrin, Mom’s philosophy was If you’re in a fight, hit first and hit hard.

      Tyler was older and stronger and enjoyed shoving my middle brother around. Carlos glanced up at our fifth-floor window, and there was Mom staring down and waiting. A left to the side of the head, and Tyler never bothered him again. There was a method to her madness.

      Filling the roles of Mother and Father left no room for the tenderness she displayed later in life with her grandchildren. The kids had her wrapped around their fingers as she caved to their every whim. Bedtime at Grandma’s was never an issue. My children would hop in her bed with their pajamas at 6:00 p.m. so they would have dibs on who got to sleep with Grandma.

      Grandma gave me fifty dollars!

      ‘For what?’

      Candy!

      ‘Candy! Where the hell was this woman when I was growing up?’

      My youngest brother’s death, the event that not only set Mom’s Alzheimer’s in gear but also tested our family core, was one of two events that saw tears well from her eyes. It was early morning on September 11, 1995, that we received a knock on the door. My brother Carlos was the bearer of news he couldn’t coherently express. However, the expression on his face suggested something was dreadfully amiss.

      "Ernesto (long pause) has been hurt. He is in a hospital in The Bronx. (Longer pause) We have to claim his body."

      My entire being was deflated upon hearing those words. After identifying and claiming Ernie’s body, we finally arrived at Mom’s home at 5:00 a.m. She looked at us, keeled over, and wept uncontrollably. Her baby was gone, a bullet through the heart as he intervened in a barroom brawl.

      Watching me leave home to pursue a college education in Kansas was the only other time I witnessed my mother cry. Those were tears of joy. Her eldest was going to college, the first to reach that pinnacle on our side of the family. Teaching and coaching was the logical path to follow. So many educators and coaches influenced my life and were behind my success. It made good sense, a decision I’ve never regretted.

      When teaching beckoned, I followed her.

      Teaching is the art of creating thoughts and

      experiences.

      Experiences inspire, motivate and guide

      as you awaken wisdom deep inside.

      Experiences give faith through leadership as

      one directs students through the threshold of their own minds.

      Intuition, curiosity, empathy and creativity are all there,

      instilling a balance between reason and passion,

      as one seeks a truth.

      Teaching is to give unconditionally to the task at hand.

      When teaching beckons, follow her.

      Leaving Manhattan’s West Side in 1967 and going to Kansas was culture shock, just the type of social trauma I needed and one that, again, was never regretted. Kansas was truly an experience; ‘Toto, there is a feeling we’re not in Manhattan anymore.’ Those were the years that I looked inside and found myself. I have my college coach and the People of the South Wind, with their strong will, warmth, and wit, to thank for that discovery.

      New Yorkers, for the most part, are cold unless there is a crisis, then our true grit and compassion jump to the forefront. Just reflect back to 9/11 and how New Yorkers responded; there were so many heroes on that day. On the other hand, a smile and hello from a stranger on the street means—check your pockets.

      In Kansas, greetings from total strangers are frequent and heartfelt. Not reciprocating is considered unfittin’. It just ain’t fittin’. It was in the Midwest where I learned the common sense social graces that later in life labeled me a people person. Studying at a Methodist college and playing for Ken Cochran (an inductee in five different halls of fame) tempered the natural aggressiveness and boldness that come with being a native New Yorker. No excuses, this is how we’re packaged.

      Upon my return from the Midwest, good fortune waited.

      You will teach special education, coach cross-country and basketball.

      ‘Cross-country, basketball, I played baseball in college.’

      I know, don’t worry, you will do just fine. You will be assistant coach in both sports. Should the head baseball job open up in the future, the job will be yours.

      Mr. Klein, the athletic director, and Mr. Stillman, the

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