What a Country, This America!

School Administrator, April, 1999 by Daniel A. Domenech

I don't know about you, but I still get goose bumps when I hear "America the Beautiful," when I envision our spacious skies and amber waves of grain. I am unabashedly patriotic and have engaged in a love affair with America for the 44 years of my life that I have lived in this country.

I began my term as president of the American Association of School Administrators by exclaiming, "What a country, this America!" I will close my term by extolling the virtues of our public school system.

Every day that I visit a school, my faith in our system is reaffirmed. On a recent trip to one of our centers for children with emotional disabilities, a charming young lady--an editor with the school paper--was given the assignment to "cover" my visit. She was bright and articulate and asked excellent questions. Following my tour, I approached the center's principal and asked about the young reporter. What circumstances could possibly be responsible for this child being in such a specialized program? Three suicide attempts, the principal said, as she shared with me some of the stories written by the girl, exposing the frail and tortured child, clinging to life one day at a time, sustained by the love and support she receives from the center staff.

Earlier this year, I was invited to address a gathering of Hispanic parents at one of our high schools. I spoke to them in Spanish since most of them did not speak English. They wanted to know how they could support their children because their limited language skills made it difficult for them to help with homework or to offer much guidance with school in general. I shared with them that many years ago, my parents sat where they now sat, wondering what they could do for me. What they gave me was unconditional love and support. They couldn't help me with my homework, but they made sure I did it.

A few weeks ago, a parent from another school district called my office insisting that she had to see me. Several months earlier, she had attended the Hispanic parents meeting with her sister, who has a child in my school system.

When she arrived home from that meeting, she found her own son there, disconsolate and depressed. Earlier that day, he had undergone a rather rigorous interview process as part of a competition to study abroad. One of the interviewers chided him for perhaps trying to gain an advantage by indicating that he was a language minority student and had only been in this country for seven years. The boy was indignant. He was proud of his accomplishments. He had worked so hard. He wanted out. The mother ached for her son. What could she do? She said she recalled my words from that evening. She embraced her son, told him how much she loved him and assured him that whatever happened in the competition, she was proud of him for having progressed as far as he had.

The young man stayed in the competition. With tears in her eyes and tremendous pride, the mother told me that her son had been named a Rhodes Scholar. He is the first Hispanic to achieve such an honor from his school system and from his state. She wanted me to continue to urge language minority parents to support their children.

A young woman trying to survive and a young man reaching for the stars. Supported by our public school system, she lives while he achieves. Beyond the three Rs, below that spacious sky, surrounded by those amber waves of grain, there sits America's schoolhouse, turning a country of immigrants into the most powerful nation in the history of the world and fulfilling the dreams of children for generations to come.