It's fourth period, and Youhanna Ghaifan strides through the door of my classroom.
"How's my favorite teacher?" His big grin stretches from one ear to the other. However, I'm onto him. He greets every one of his teachers the same way. But I still like it.
In those moments before the bell rings, Youhanna hangs over the desks of his buddies. They trade barbs and tease each other about the all important subject of girls.
"Yep," Youhanna rises. He is six feet three inches tall, 240 pounds, and one of only two black students in the classroom. But Youhanna isn't just black. He is very black. His presence takes over the room. "I call a different lady every night," he brags to his friends. "They don't pick up, but I call." His huge laugh fills the space.
Youhanna is one of my very best senior literature students - and one of my very favorites. He's come a long way since he was an eighth grade student here at Grand Island Central Catholic. I remember the day four years ago, his first day in my class. He informs me he hates English class and that he has only come to GICC to be near his best friend, Harry Heidelk.
He lays it all on the line. "I play football and basketball. I don't like to read or write. I could get really tired of stuff and leave."
It seems to be a challenge.
"Don't worry," I say. "We'll probably get tired of you first."
His eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" he says defiantly.
But I ignore him.
As if to prove a point, he refuses to do much at all in my English class. Halfway through the semester Doris Rempe, the school counselor, summons Youhanna's teachers to a meeting. He is failing nearly all his classes. Doris asks for our observations.
"He wants to leave," I say. "I think we should let him."
I am ashamed now for giving up so easily. Bill Gavers, however, GICC's long time boys' basketball coach at the time, will not give up. "I'll be responsible for him," he says. "Let's give the kid another chance." Bill, of course, sees Youhanna's potential as an athlete. But he also genuinely cares for him.
I don't know what Gavers says to him, but Youhanna's attitude changes. His grades improve dramatically, and he works very hard - especially at his reading which has always been difficult for him. In ninth grade English the next year, we study To Kill a Mockingbird. It takes Youhanna longer than any other kid to read it, but he is absorbed and finishes it cover to cover. The plight of Tom Robinson, an innocent black man accused of raping a white girl, troubles him. Youhanna may fill his world with football and basketball, but he is no stranger to suffering, and he remembers his other life in Sudan.
Before he is six years old, he and his family will have escaped from Sudan as refugees. Youhanna understands they would not have survived otherwise. His father, Ibraham Gebra, is determined to flee from Sudan with his wife, Nafisa Toto, and their young children. A religious war has claimed the lives of two million Christians, including the brothers and sisters of Youhanna's mother and father. His mother, as a young girl, is taken prisoner. One terrible day, she witnesses the murder of her own sister, also a prisoner. Just as she herself is at the point of execution, another prisoner, a man, helps her to escape.
Youhanna is five-years-old when he and his family flee to Egypt, a temporary safe haven for Christian refugees like themselves. His father tells him they will go to America and that Youhanna must always be grateful to God for sparing all their lives.
Of that other life, Youhanna remembers running barefoot outside with his brother and sisters. He remembers packs of wild dogs who chase him up a tree until he cries for his mother. He remembers his father's determination to escape the country.
"My dad is always hard on me and always has been," Youhanna tells me. "It's his way or the highway. I don't always like it. But if he wasn't so tough and doing things his way, we wouldn't have survived."
Youhanna, as a small child arriving in the U.S., learns the English language quickly. His parents still struggle, but there is no trace of an accent in the speech of Youhanna or any of his siblings who are all enrolled in the Grand Island School system. Youhanna and his younger brother Younan attend Central Catholic while his sisters Hannah, Lucy and Habila attend Grand Island Public. Youhanna settles in at GICC, becomes a celebrated athlete in three sports, and very much enjoys the attention it brings. But the fact that he is black in a small Nebraska town presents difficult challenges.
He is a freshman starting on Bill Gavers' Crusader basketball team. One night, the team travels to a small town some miles away. During the game, big Youhanna grabs a rebound and unintentionally elbows an opposing teammate. The opposing fans, however, jeer. The "N" word escapes. Others take it up lashing out at Youhanna.
Youhanna himself is unaware of the mounting rage on the other side of the gym. He is utterly focused on his game. When his shocked teammates tell him about it later, he is hurt but silent.
I see him in school two days later. "I'm so sorry, Youhanna."
He shrugs. "It's okay. No big deal."
I stare at him. "It is a big deal," I say. "You have every right to be upset about it."
He looks at the floor. "If I got upset every time I heard that word," he says, "I'd have to be mad every day. And I just can't," he shakes his head. "I can't be mad every day."
His classmates rally around him. The ugliness of human nature has been an eye opener for them, too. In his safe world at GICC, Youhanna can forget about the angry sting of racism. But his success as an athlete sometimes causes him to forget his Sudanese roots, as well.
By the time he is a junior, Youhanna is getting noticed. He is a household name in Grand Island, and colleges all across the country are courting him. A defensive end on the Crusader football team, Youhanna is not unaware of his great talent nor of the mounting interest. It is a lot for a boy of 16 to handle, and he begins to use his power. He discovers the ease of charming adoring girls.
In American Literature class, I assign an essay. Youhanna turns in a paper. It is written in a careful feminine hand. I slap it back on his desk.
"Seriously?" I say angrily. "You're trying to be THAT guy?"
He looks up, bewildered. "What guy?"
"C'mon, Youhanna," I snort. "You want to be the guy who gets silly, needy girls to do your homework for you.Will you have girls do your laundry, too, when you get to college?"
He is outraged. "I am not gonna be that guy!"
I lose my temper. "You are that guy!"
We are both upset and steer clear of each other for the next few days. He turns in a new essay, and I am pleased to see he has written it himself. Nevertheless, I fear for Youhanna - that he will forget who he is and the great sacrifices that have been made on his behalf.
Just as school starts this year, Youhanna's senior year, the University of Wyoming offers him a football scholarship - a full ride. I try to be happy for him, but I know Youhanna hasn't worked hard in English class for a full year. His grades are barely passing. Will he blow this great opportunity and become that particular kind of college football player I despise?
But he works. And he works hard. He devours Catcher in the Rye and loves our discussions on A Separate Peace. I wait for old habits to return, but all semester he continues to work diligently and checks his grades often. In my husband's history class, he is engaged and questioning.
"Youhanna!" my husband John claps him on the back. "You've earned your man card, Son!"
He radiates a new kind of confidence, not just because of his athletic abilities but because of his scholastic success, too.
"What in God's name happened over the summer?" I ask.
He shrugs. "I grew up."
The scholarship offer, he confides, was a test. "I guess I just want to start working for myself. I have to start somewhere, and I have to decide what kind of person I want to be."
And, he's decided, he wants to be a good one.
Youhanna has finally come to terms with the life his parents have given him. Their example has been soul changing. Employed at Swifts and Company, his mother works the day shift, and his father works nights. His father, Youhanna says, has seen only three of his athletic events in the four years Youhanna has been at Central Catholic.
"I understand that," Youhanna says. "He wants the best for our family, and he has to work."
His mother, on the other hand, is at every game. She doesn't understand either football or basketball very well, and Youhanna carefully explains the rules and strategies to her. She doesn't speak much English, but Youhanna says he can hear her in the stands during his basketball games.
"If I miss my first free throw, I can hear her yelling, 'You can do it, Boy!' " He grins.
Youhanna loves his parents very much. "They've always been there for me."
He is especially protective of his mother. "If I ever hear my younger brothers or sisters yell at her, I tell them, 'Don't you EVER yell at her!' I just love her so much."
Someday, if he ever makes it big, he hopes to give his mother and father a better life. He understands, he says, that he owes everything to them.
But in the meantime, he is a 17-year-old boy who enjoys high school
. At Grand Island Central Catholic, Youhanna is enormously popular. He's having the time of his life. But he's looking ahead.
I think of a television interview with Youhanna right after he is awarded his scholarship. When asked what he'd like to be when he grows up, Youhanna replies in his native language - "Whatever God wants me to be."
I don't know what God will ask him to do. But I know Youhanna will answer the call with his own unique brand of humor, energy and zest. He will make his parents, coaches, friends and teachers proud one day.
He makes us proud now.
"How's my favorite teacher?" His big grin stretches from one ear to the other. However, I'm onto him. He greets every one of his teachers the same way. But I still like it.
In those moments before the bell rings, Youhanna hangs over the desks of his buddies. They trade barbs and tease each other about the all important subject of girls."Yep," Youhanna rises. He is six feet three inches tall, 240 pounds, and one of only two black students in the classroom. But Youhanna isn't just black. He is very black. His presence takes over the room. "I call a different lady every night," he brags to his friends. "They don't pick up, but I call." His huge laugh fills the space.
Youhanna is one of my very best senior literature students - and one of my very favorites. He's come a long way since he was an eighth grade student here at Grand Island Central Catholic. I remember the day four years ago, his first day in my class. He informs me he hates English class and that he has only come to GICC to be near his best friend, Harry Heidelk.
He lays it all on the line. "I play football and basketball. I don't like to read or write. I could get really tired of stuff and leave."
It seems to be a challenge.
"Don't worry," I say. "We'll probably get tired of you first."
His eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" he says defiantly.
But I ignore him.
As if to prove a point, he refuses to do much at all in my English class. Halfway through the semester Doris Rempe, the school counselor, summons Youhanna's teachers to a meeting. He is failing nearly all his classes. Doris asks for our observations.
"He wants to leave," I say. "I think we should let him."
I am ashamed now for giving up so easily. Bill Gavers, however, GICC's long time boys' basketball coach at the time, will not give up. "I'll be responsible for him," he says. "Let's give the kid another chance." Bill, of course, sees Youhanna's potential as an athlete. But he also genuinely cares for him.
I don't know what Gavers says to him, but Youhanna's attitude changes. His grades improve dramatically, and he works very hard - especially at his reading which has always been difficult for him. In ninth grade English the next year, we study To Kill a Mockingbird. It takes Youhanna longer than any other kid to read it, but he is absorbed and finishes it cover to cover. The plight of Tom Robinson, an innocent black man accused of raping a white girl, troubles him. Youhanna may fill his world with football and basketball, but he is no stranger to suffering, and he remembers his other life in Sudan.
Before he is six years old, he and his family will have escaped from Sudan as refugees. Youhanna understands they would not have survived otherwise. His father, Ibraham Gebra, is determined to flee from Sudan with his wife, Nafisa Toto, and their young children. A religious war has claimed the lives of two million Christians, including the brothers and sisters of Youhanna's mother and father. His mother, as a young girl, is taken prisoner. One terrible day, she witnesses the murder of her own sister, also a prisoner. Just as she herself is at the point of execution, another prisoner, a man, helps her to escape.
Youhanna is five-years-old when he and his family flee to Egypt, a temporary safe haven for Christian refugees like themselves. His father tells him they will go to America and that Youhanna must always be grateful to God for sparing all their lives.
Of that other life, Youhanna remembers running barefoot outside with his brother and sisters. He remembers packs of wild dogs who chase him up a tree until he cries for his mother. He remembers his father's determination to escape the country.
"My dad is always hard on me and always has been," Youhanna tells me. "It's his way or the highway. I don't always like it. But if he wasn't so tough and doing things his way, we wouldn't have survived."
Youhanna, as a small child arriving in the U.S., learns the English language quickly. His parents still struggle, but there is no trace of an accent in the speech of Youhanna or any of his siblings who are all enrolled in the Grand Island School system. Youhanna and his younger brother Younan attend Central Catholic while his sisters Hannah, Lucy and Habila attend Grand Island Public. Youhanna settles in at GICC, becomes a celebrated athlete in three sports, and very much enjoys the attention it brings. But the fact that he is black in a small Nebraska town presents difficult challenges.
He is a freshman starting on Bill Gavers' Crusader basketball team. One night, the team travels to a small town some miles away. During the game, big Youhanna grabs a rebound and unintentionally elbows an opposing teammate. The opposing fans, however, jeer. The "N" word escapes. Others take it up lashing out at Youhanna.
Youhanna himself is unaware of the mounting rage on the other side of the gym. He is utterly focused on his game. When his shocked teammates tell him about it later, he is hurt but silent.
I see him in school two days later. "I'm so sorry, Youhanna."
He shrugs. "It's okay. No big deal."
I stare at him. "It is a big deal," I say. "You have every right to be upset about it."
He looks at the floor. "If I got upset every time I heard that word," he says, "I'd have to be mad every day. And I just can't," he shakes his head. "I can't be mad every day."
His classmates rally around him. The ugliness of human nature has been an eye opener for them, too. In his safe world at GICC, Youhanna can forget about the angry sting of racism. But his success as an athlete sometimes causes him to forget his Sudanese roots, as well.
By the time he is a junior, Youhanna is getting noticed. He is a household name in Grand Island, and colleges all across the country are courting him. A defensive end on the Crusader football team, Youhanna is not unaware of his great talent nor of the mounting interest. It is a lot for a boy of 16 to handle, and he begins to use his power. He discovers the ease of charming adoring girls.
In American Literature class, I assign an essay. Youhanna turns in a paper. It is written in a careful feminine hand. I slap it back on his desk.
"Seriously?" I say angrily. "You're trying to be THAT guy?"
He looks up, bewildered. "What guy?"
"C'mon, Youhanna," I snort. "You want to be the guy who gets silly, needy girls to do your homework for you.Will you have girls do your laundry, too, when you get to college?"
He is outraged. "I am not gonna be that guy!"
I lose my temper. "You are that guy!"
We are both upset and steer clear of each other for the next few days. He turns in a new essay, and I am pleased to see he has written it himself. Nevertheless, I fear for Youhanna - that he will forget who he is and the great sacrifices that have been made on his behalf.
Just as school starts this year, Youhanna's senior year, the University of Wyoming offers him a football scholarship - a full ride. I try to be happy for him, but I know Youhanna hasn't worked hard in English class for a full year. His grades are barely passing. Will he blow this great opportunity and become that particular kind of college football player I despise?
But he works. And he works hard. He devours Catcher in the Rye and loves our discussions on A Separate Peace. I wait for old habits to return, but all semester he continues to work diligently and checks his grades often. In my husband's history class, he is engaged and questioning.
"Youhanna!" my husband John claps him on the back. "You've earned your man card, Son!"
He radiates a new kind of confidence, not just because of his athletic abilities but because of his scholastic success, too.
"What in God's name happened over the summer?" I ask.
He shrugs. "I grew up."
The scholarship offer, he confides, was a test. "I guess I just want to start working for myself. I have to start somewhere, and I have to decide what kind of person I want to be."
And, he's decided, he wants to be a good one.
Youhanna has finally come to terms with the life his parents have given him. Their example has been soul changing. Employed at Swifts and Company, his mother works the day shift, and his father works nights. His father, Youhanna says, has seen only three of his athletic events in the four years Youhanna has been at Central Catholic.
"I understand that," Youhanna says. "He wants the best for our family, and he has to work."
His mother, on the other hand, is at every game. She doesn't understand either football or basketball very well, and Youhanna carefully explains the rules and strategies to her. She doesn't speak much English, but Youhanna says he can hear her in the stands during his basketball games.
"If I miss my first free throw, I can hear her yelling, 'You can do it, Boy!' " He grins.
Youhanna loves his parents very much. "They've always been there for me."
He is especially protective of his mother. "If I ever hear my younger brothers or sisters yell at her, I tell them, 'Don't you EVER yell at her!' I just love her so much."
Someday, if he ever makes it big, he hopes to give his mother and father a better life. He understands, he says, that he owes everything to them.
But in the meantime, he is a 17-year-old boy who enjoys high school
. At Grand Island Central Catholic, Youhanna is enormously popular. He's having the time of his life. But he's looking ahead.
I think of a television interview with Youhanna right after he is awarded his scholarship. When asked what he'd like to be when he grows up, Youhanna replies in his native language - "Whatever God wants me to be."
I don't know what God will ask him to do. But I know Youhanna will answer the call with his own unique brand of humor, energy and zest. He will make his parents, coaches, friends and teachers proud one day.
He makes us proud now.
