Lessons Learned: Reflections on the Inaugural

One of the most significant lessons I’ve learned in my adult life came from the wisdom of fourteen year old Dominican Little Brother, Miguel. I first met him in the early 1990’s. He lived in Washington Heights New York City. His neighborhood was like many back then: a mix of lower income people eking out a living, drug dealers hanging outside the local bodega, and run down apartment buildings. It was also a neighborhood rich with Dominican traditions and culture. There was always Spanish music playing (loud) and the smell of food vendors filled the sidewalk air. Getting off the subway at 155th Street was never dull!

Miguel was matched with a very successful Wall Street broker. Their lives and worlds couldn’t be further apart. But Miguel didn’t seem to mind so much, because his Big Brother communicated one important value: work hard - there are no excuses.

I was still a bit of a ‘baby’ social worker when I began working with Miguel. I’d only been working in the field for six years and this was my first sojourn into working with urban teens. I came complete with all the basic stereotypes: poor kids, disadvantaged, little to no chance, poor education, no role models, doomed to a life in the poverty cycle. My job was to feel bad, wish things were better and be angry at society for having failed young men like Miguel.

Oh, how young and naive I was. And oh, how blessed I was to have Miguel put into my life. It was during a conversation I was having with Miguel about my concern that his Big Brother was putting too much pressure on him, raising the bar too high and not being compassionate to Miguel’s life situation that my life lesson occurred.

Miguel looked at me and said (I paraphrase), ‘if no one expects much out of me, then that's all I’ll aspire to. If no one tells me that I can do it, have to do if and have no excuse, then I’ll sit back and let life happen. I know, deep inside, that I am capable of achieving great things. But I need people in my life that won’t let me get away with not trying.’

On that day, at that moment, I realized that (1) social work wasn’t about feeling sorry for people and trying to be ‘nice’ to them and (2) that how I was approaching my work was only affirming a stereotype that would keep those I worked with bound to low expectations for themselves that rose no further than the label of a ‘welfare’ person.

Miguel went on to teach me a few other things, too. Thanks to him, I discovered the great prose of Langston Hughes and the literary works of Maya Angelou (we read “When the Caged Bird Sings” together). I saw a young man leave home for 3 years to attend a private high school in New England, then return home and successfully graduate from one of the top Catholic High Schools in NYC. I was at his graduation ceremony held in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and brought him on as summer intern to attend Street Fairs and help recruit new volunteers (after all, he was the impact statement!).

As I watched (now) President Obama take the oath of office and listened to his inaugural address, I heard him saying much of what Miguel had said to me over 18 years ago: it’s time to step up. No more excuses. We must all live up to our potential.

I don’t know where Miguel is today (I have tried to search him out but to no avail thus far). I so want to thank him. Until then, I continue to honor him by trying everyday to live the lesson he taught me. Sometimes I push too hard; sometimes I set the bar too high. I’m still learning. But I do know that none of us will reach our full potential without people in our lives who expect us to be our best, who believe the best exists within each of us, and who stand beside us as we strive forward.