How are you feeling, Julia?

One of the many additions to facebook recently has been that the website inquires about its users feelings in the status box. Where I go to type in something to share with my facebook friends and the rest of the internet, facebook has a question: How are you feeling, Julia?

Right now, I'm feeling incredibly blessed. I'm in a healthy, happy, and productive routine, my students are taking personal responsibility for their work and are increasingly able to work independently during my classes, I actually know my way around the city, and I just had an INCREDIBLE meeting with our principal.

I could go on for pages about the amazing coworkers I have here at Cristo Rey Jesuit- they are so warm and supportive and wonderful, but our principal might take the cake. She has been nothing but a mentor and resource for me while I've been here, and she genuinely cares about my well-being. In our mid-year evaluation meeting, she offered to let me just come hang out in her house when I needed a break, because it's really big and she never uses it. She's awesome.

Not to mention that she is a great educator and really cares so much about the students... Anyway, I really could go on for hours, but I'll stop myself, because I have some great news! In our meeting, Katherine told me how much she wants me to play a more active role in CRJ Campus Ministry, beginning with: GOING ON KAIROS!

I'm so thrilled. I'm beyond thrilled. I'm ecstatic. I will be going on the boys Kairos retreat from March 20-23, but will have a bit of a different role than the other adult leaders. I'll be helping with logistics and in the kitchen (I mean, if I HAVE to cook...), and maybe will be giving a talk. Things are still in the works, but I'm so happy to be going!!

I will also be assisting with more Campus Ministry activities around the school throughout the year, including masses and helping with the planning of retreats. I am so happy to be able to do more of this kind of work!

I'll leave you with the words of Andrew Hoyt, an incredible teacher and human being in general, who I learned more from in 4 months than I could have even dreamed. He was at Cristo Rey from day one of its existence, and while he had to leave us because of family commitments halfway through this year, his presence is still felt here. He wrote a reflection for Catholic Schools week for the ACE program through Notre Dame, and  it's so lovely that I thought I'd share:

"That’s it!” Steve flung his book on his desk in anger. “I’ve had you for three years, and you never give me a straight answer. Every time I ask you a question, you just answer with another question. Just answer me!”
Murmurs of agreement fluttered through the classroom. Heads nodded in grave assent: It was true. He never answered your questions.
“Wow, Steve. Thanks for saying something. Why do you think I do that?”

***
As a part of the corporate work-study program at Cristo Rey Jesuit, students spend one day a week working in Houston businesses. After prayer each morning, a number of students pass back out the front doors, tread across the school crest - the word "Magis" above a Christogram - and climb onto buses to go to work.
Four years ago, Andres had never been in an elevator before. Now, he steps off the downtown bus once a week, straightens his tie, and transcends realms. At the top of one of the highest buildings in Houston, this young man from the barrio looks out the window toward the sunrise and continues to his desk. He has work to do.

***
Late on a Friday night, the entire senior class sat together in the chapel. The pews buzzed with the electricity of raw emotion and the late hour. But when he stood up, the entire church went silent.
With 75 pairs of eyes tracing his uncertain steps, he stumbled toward the lectern. Everyone had been pouring their hearts out tonight, but what could he have to say? He almost never spoke in class, never said hello in the hallway. He climbed up into the sanctuary and into unfamiliar territory: He was the center of attention.
Somewhere in the darkness, someone clapped. And they began chanting his name.
A boy who'd hardly uttered a word to most of his classmates now stood in front of a chanting crowd. And he spoke.
"Thank you,” he said, “I know you’re all probably scared of me, but I love you.”
He told his classmates that even though they might not realize it, they were his friends. They were his family. "You said hi to me every day. I never felt like I belonged anywhere before here."
He leaned on the lectern, still anxious, and told them that he looked forward to walking through the school doors every day because he knew he would be safe. “No one really knew how important it was that the school was there for me,” he said, “even if I didn’t act like it.”
"If you say good morning to me next week, I still might growl at you," he finished, "but at least you'll know how much it means to me."
The chapel swelled with cheers and laughter, and he stepped back down, awkwardly enduring the barrage of hugs from his friends.

***
For three and a half years, I taught at Cristo Rey Jesuit in Houston, Texas. Most of the students in this low-income Catholic school are zoned to one of the three nearby public schools. In 2007, a Johns Hopkins study labeled all three of these large, overcrowded schools as "dropout factories," where more than 40% of the student body drops out each year.

At Cristo Rey Jesuit, the standard is about more than staying in school. It is a safe place, where students face more than homework, grades, and lectures. In this Catholic school, students encounter mystery, dignity, and love. They are invited to be more – to strive for the magis – and to reach for something higher than they ever thought possible.