PAX Centurion - April / June 2016

www.bppa.org PAX CENTURION • April-May-June 2016 • Page 21 Fathers know best By Mark A. Bruno I remember my high school years at Charlestown High, 1974-78, a very tumultuous time. Busing was at its peak and there were walkouts and riots every other day. JudgeArthur Garrity had imposed his will on the City of Boston and children of all races were about to be bused half way – if not all the way – across the city to get an “equal education.” Fast forward forty years and we are being told that busing was a failure. The bottom line was they should have fixed the school system so kids in their neighborhoods could go to the school down the block and get an equal education like the kids on the other side of the city. In order to avoid busing, the Catholic Church rejected any applicants that were coming over to them from public school; looks like that worked out well for them. TheArchdiocese of Boston has closed more schools as a result of low enrollment, and church attendance went down drastically. I had a choice in my tenth year of high school: be bused half way across the city or take the electrical course and stay in Charlestown High. I made what I thought was the right decision. Either way, these four high school years would be the worst time of my life, so much so that I lacked any desire to further my education when I finally graduated. We were just kids twisted up in a politically charged landscape which took away our choice of school. Being of Italian, Spanish, and Irish descent, I was considered a mixed breed. Imagine having to be scanned every day for weapons when you walked through the door. I learned self-defense and self-preservation in these four years. I also learned how corrupt the school staff could be, from the Headmaster down, which leads to my story. I believe it was my junior year that several of my classmates decided to elect me as their student representative. They did it as a gag because they didn’t like me. As a mixed breed, I was always unfortunately on the outside looking in. All my friends either moved out of the city or quit school. I was the only male student from the North End that graduated in 1978 – a whole generation lost on what years later has been dubbed a failure. Anyway, back to my story. As student rep, I had to take complaints from students and bring them to the attention of the teachers and – if need be – all the way up the ladder. Well, as you can guess, my name was being batted around the teacher’s lounge and Headmaster’s office like a ping-pong ball. I felt the sting of their displeasure which became evident in my grades. When I asked several of the teachers privately about these grades they asked if I had any other “complaints.” It was obvious I had become a thorn in their side and they were letting me know it. It came to a boiling point with the Headmaster when he denied me T-bus passes. He told me I lived within a mile of the school and was not entitled to them. I marched up to the School Committee on Court Street and pulled out the rules governing who is entitled to passes and, low and behold, a clause stating if the route in which a student is walking is high traffic and hazardous, they are entitled to passes. When I approached the Headmaster with this stipulation, he had essentially told me to go pound sand. Instead, I pounded on the door of the Superintendent of School Transportation, who called the Headmaster and gave him an earful of grief. The Headmaster called me in and handed me the passes and told me I would be lucky to graduate. So be it; I would have to watch my back from here on out. Like I said before, with all kinds of security and police presence, schools were not unlike prison. In my senior year, as in past years, riots in the school were commonplace. While I was over in electrical shop, a riot broke out with students clashing in the corridors. My shop teacher wanted me to go out and partake in the ruckus but I told him no thanks. He was another teacher that had me on his watch list because of my complaints. At some point, he asked me to go downstairs to the main office of the shop to see if everything was ok. Reluctantly, I agreed. As soon as I got out the door, I was swarmed by Boston’s Finest TPF! I told them, “you got me all wrong!” “Yeah, but we got you!” they said. I was marched down to the office and told the Vice-Principle that the shop teacher asked me to check if everything was ok. The shop teacher came down and when asked to verify the story he turned on me like a rat, saying “I never told him to leave the class.” Needless to say, the Headmaster, after hearing this story, was smiling from ear-to-ear. He called me in and told me that I needed to bring a parent to school to address my suspension. My dad always taught me to do what is right, no matter the consequence. He told me that when you deviate from the truth, you sully your good reputation and people look at you like you did something dirty. He told me always to keep my good name and reputation intact. I brought my dad to school and went to the Headmaster’s office. In private, the Headmaster explained to him that the suspension would go away only if I relinquished my seat as student rep. The clouds began to part, revealing the true color of the sky! My dad said this is not about discipline but rather breaking his spirit! “Call it what you will,” the Headmaster told him, “but your son has caused trouble for me ever since he has been elected as student rep.” I spoke with my dad privately on the offer and he told me that he would stand by whatever choice I made. I told my dad I would rather take the suspension than give him the satisfaction of getting me to resign my position. My dad told the Headmaster I would take the suspension, and also that he thought the Headmaster was a disgrace as an educational leader. I walked out of that office, proud of my dad and how he stood up for me in light of the lies. He said he could not have been any prouder of me for standing my ground despite the unfair consequences. I learned a valuable lesson that day, one that I have carried through my life: Regardless of the consequences, tell the truth and keep your good name intact. I hold my dad’s memory in high esteem and would like to wish him a Happy Father’s Day. I’m sure many of my fellow officers had these proud moments with their dads. THE BOSTON POLICE DEPARTMENT PEER SUPPORT UNIT We are a peer-driven support program for police officers and their families. Our program is completely confidential and is available to ALL police officers and their families. Group or individual help with handling family and life issues, alcohol, drugs, anger and domestic issues. Referral for specialist as needed. 251 River Street, Mattapan, MA 02126 Office: 617-343-5175 (M-F 9 am-5 pm) Off-Hours, On-Call Peer Counselor: 617-594-9091 Sometimes even WE need a little help from our friends!