10/20/2013 - Fata

From the
Pastor’s Desk...
Fr Gerry Bowen
Giant in a Crowd
Since drama is made up of life, teaching drama gives one opportunity to teach life. However, I don’t think I ever taught
my students as much as I was privileged to learn from them. One such student was the giant named Jimmy, who walked
into my class in 1963.
Jimmy was one of the ‘special education’ students who was being mainstreamed, and I felt privileged to have him. As it
turned out, he was most definitely ‘special, as he was to educate us all.
Drama students are great fun; they are creative, spontaneous, outspoken and disarmingly honest. However, these very
qualities sometimes get in the way of a thing called consistency. So it was after two months, the only student who had
completed every single assignment was Jimmy. I could only imagine how hard it was for him at times. He was fighting
muscular coordination, as well as speech and vision problems, but he never shirked from any responsibility.
I constantly bragged about him being ‘excuse-free’. One day I called on him, and he looked back at me, smiled and told
me he was not ready to perform. I detected a slight twinkle in his eye. I asked him to stay after class for a moment.
“Jimmy, you were ready, weren’t you?” I asked.
“Yes, sir,” he replied.
“Why, Jim? You did the work, you deserve the credit.”
He shuffled his feet, looked up, smiled and said, :Well I didn’t want the other kids to feel bad. I have more free time than
they do, and I didn’t want any of them to get discouraged.”
As the year progressed, the class became more aware of the good fortune in having a genius in the art of humanity in
their midst. I have asked this question to countless groups in seminars and the reply is always the same: When you see
someone crying, you go up to them and usually say something. What is it you say? Everyone replies, “What’s wrong?”
Jimmy never said that. His question was always, “Can I help?”
One day I sked him why he never asked the same question everybody else did.
“Well, Mr Schlatter,” he said, “I never thought much about it, but I guess I figure that it’s not my business ‘what wrong’.
But if I can help them fix what’s wrong, that is my business.”
We ended every year with a speech and drama banquet modeled after the Academy Awards. The students wanted to
give Jim some special recognition for all he had meant to them.
I gave him a poem to read called Myself by Edgar Albert Guest, which I felt best reflected his unspoken but totally lived
philosophy.
We had saved his moment to be near the end, and after he was introduced, he approached the front of the auditorium
without his book. He wasn’t going to read it; he had memorized it. He smiled and in a slow deliberate manner, touched
our hearts as he read:
I have to live with myself so I want to be fit for myself to know. I want to be able as days go by to look myself straight in
the eye. I don’t want to stand with the setting sun and think of things I have or haven’t done. I want to go out with my
head erect. I want to deserve all men’s respect, I want to be able to like myself. I don’t want to look at myself and know
that I’m a bluster, a bluff and an empty show. I can never hide myself from me. I see what others may never see. I know
what others may never know. I can never fool myself and so whatever happens, I want to be self-respecting and
conscience-free.
First there was total silence, then thunderous applause. Two students went to the podium and hugged Jimmy, after
which they gave him a trophy that was inscribed:
To Jimmy, thank you for the honor and privilege of knowing you. Class of ‘64
Mark Malott as told to Diana Chapman
A 5th Portion of Chicken Soup for the Soul