Outlaws
by Rebecca Schoenkopf
The little girl who won this year was a perfect little girl. You could see it in her straight little back and the big, sober eyes in her serious face. You could know it without being told, even before you watched as she won all the other awards too, the ones for Best Student, and Hey Good Job on Your Awesome State Test Scores, and Most Likely to Make Her Teacher Really Love Her a Lot.
My father adored her. “There’s our winner,” he whispered to me with great pleasure as we sat up on the auditorium stage. I adored her too—nobody couldn’t—but it broke my heart. While most of the graduating fifth grade class at least had sort of goodish attendance to win them a “goodish attendance” medal (and several kids had perfect attendance all the way back to kindergarten), and our award winner clearly strived for perfection every day and in every way, there were only three or four kids who won nothing. They did not have even goodish attendance. They did not wear suits or pretty plum-colored dresses for their graduation. They looked grim, and embarrassed, and unhonored. They looked like they might go break something after. One of them really could have used a Jesse Steinberg Award.
We have been giving out the Jesse Steinberg Award to a graduating student almost since my mom began teaching at 61st Street School, and since she retired my dad and I have blown into South L.A. once a year to keep it going. It is named for my brother Jesse, who would be 41 next week, but he was schizophrenic and he hanged himself at home, from a rope swing in the back yard. That was 20 years ago. He was 21 years old.
I never talk about my brother when I give my little speech before we announce the award. I don’t say here, child, have an award named for a dead person, my late brother, who is totally dead. I just talk about the traits one must have to win it: humor, tenacity (I explain what “tenacity” means), and bravery.
I called my mother after the wonderful ceremony (which included a husky, rosy-cheeked boy—one who’d had perfect attendance since kindergarten—giving a speech about his goals, most of which, adorably, seemed to be “perfect attendance in junior high, high school, and university”). Despite the sweetness of the morning, I was calling my mother to tattle.
“Mom,” I said, “I just really feel like the Jesse Steinberg Award is supposed to go to a kid who’s struggling, who’s not all awesome at school, for whom it would make a difference in the way he feels about school and the way he feels about himself.” (Yes, I do say “for whom” when I’m talking.)
My mother tut-tutted. “Are they giving it out to the best student again?” For years while she was there, teachers would nominate their best kids for the award, and she would have to gently wallop them, explaining over and over again that it should be for a funny kid, a hard kid, a kid for whom things were hard. It should be laurels for a kid who’s not usually honored, one who bounces off the walls a little maybe, who drives you a little crazy perhaps, who’s got a spark in him or her that could blossom if you let it. Jesse was so funny, completely ebullient, raising everyone’s spirits at all times, even when he was moody or mean. He had a cockeyed vision of the world, he was dyslexic, and if I remember right, he flunked first grade. He was always in trouble, he was always generous, and he was strong as a bull.
Sandy Banks had a lovely column a week or two ago—I’ve enjoyed her writing more, I guess, since I became middle-aged myself—about how every college-bound senior at Garfield gets a scholarship, 333 of them this year. They’re given by former teachers, former students (one from the class of 1946 comes every year from her home in Los Gatos), alumni who give you $500 if you’re going to LACC because that’s where they went, please have some money and some love. The whole community comes together to send each kid off with praise to the skies.
My mom and I had both been thinking it was time to retire the award—she’s off in OK, and her last class of students went on to junior high last year, and who are these odd people who keep showing up at our school?—but my dad is faithful. He reminds us it is time to approach the teachers about nominations, to gather our one HUNDRED dollars in cash and our prettily bordered certificate, to breeze into the little elementary school at 61st and Figueroa where my mom got Tree People to come in and tear up the asphalt and put in a garden. (I have had about enough of you, Caitlyn Flanagan.) But my dad’s fidelity paired with Banks’s column changed my mind entirely. We’ll keep going back to 61st Street School just as long as they’ll have us.
Next year, though, I’m calling Mr. Rogers ahead of time and emphasizing the Jesse Steinberg Award should go to a kid who doesn’t expect it. A bad kid. An outlaw, even, (metaphorical) guns blazing, bragging on and proud of—and his parents astounded by—his unexpected windfall of a pretty certificate attesting that he’s brave, and funny, and tenacious. Plus one HUNDRED dollars. Cash money.
rebecca@fourstory.org
Comments
Hey Bec- Where does the money come from? Great story and you are so right about who should get this
2010-07-2 by BarbaraHey Barbara! Usually, we all pitch in, but this year, my dad handed it all to me. So that was nice. But I had $100 ready just in case! Also, in the past we would have cash prizes for all the different classrooms’ runners-up; this year (and last if I remember right) we simplified it to just the winner.
2010-07-2 by Rebeccahey rebecca
I’ll donate to your new every-kid-is-good-at-something, cool kid/ different criteria award. $100 hard-earned cash money. come and get it.
gilda
Aw, Gilda, you’re so cool.
2010-07-3 by rebeccaRebecca,
I’m in love with you! Tell your mom.
2010-07-3 by Shirley ZadacaOh, Shirley, how nice you are! I WILL tell my mom!
2010-07-3 by rebeccaGilda, PS: You know your husband went to elementary school there! You guys could start a Gary Phillips award and give it to the best writer, and we could do it together every year. I LOVE IT! WE SHOULD DO THAT!
2010-07-3 by rebeccaBekka!!!!!!
great article…fun memories….don’t forget the was the alternative Program at North High in torrance who raised all the money to get the digging started and who coerced Tree People into coming….It was a GREAT project….Remember the murals the APN kids painted all over the playground????And remember Jerry Brown coming….
love to you!(I ALWAYS thik of you when I read Sandy Banks…and I ALWAYS read her!!!)
PS!!!!We are grandparents!!!!!!
love, Carole, Jim
Rebecca,
Now this is an award I can respect. Next year, when you begin to collect, in honor of your brave brother and a brave kid, send some of us an email reminder, as I would be proud to support this prize. Someone, such as St Theresa of Avila or the Amish people, say, “Do not, because you can do so little, do nothing.”
2010-07-3 by MikeCarole, yes! My mother told me she absolutely would NOT have gotten Tree People there without you! She was very adamant about it. Hooray YOU!
2010-07-3 by RebeccaThe thought of our beautiful Jesse always makes me smile now…oh how I loved him and Eric and you. Glad to hear about your Dad too. Keep writing, dear one.
2010-07-4 by JoAnne SangerBecca, count me in.. I wasn’t ever told about this award.. Let me know when you need the money for next year’s award.. Your idea of who should receive this award in Jesse’s memory is perfect…
2010-07-4 by Barbara SteinbergBecca,
I work at 61st Street and was fortunate to meet your mother during her last 4 (?) years there. Something I noticed sometime this school year was that the plaque that hangs in the main office (i.e., the one with the names of the winners) was removed!!! I know that Donna took great pride in having it displayed were everyone could see it. Be certain that I would get it back up on the wall, even if it means getting into another tiff with the current principal.
Violeta
2010-07-4 by Violeta RiosYES! Time to shake your Friend Tree. I’m of an age where I started telling friends, “For Birthday or Christmas, Please, no gifts I have to dust.” And I’ve started doing the same, which means, among other non-dustable items, donations to great causes in their name, plant a tree in their name, buy a Darfurian mother a solar cooker in their name & etc.
So, park this beautiful story (or write another more traditional one, “The Steinberg Award is blah-blah-blah”) that’s downloadable and printable, then email all your friends and ask if they want to give a gift in somebody’s name for Christmas or a birthday or whatever, they can send you some money, print the info off, stick it in a card,and Voi-la! a wonderful gift that doesn’t require dusting and helps a kid whose life may be one long Bad Hair Day.
I’m always looking for way cool project like this for gifts, so please, put me on that notification list.Let’s crank this up and see if maybe you can award more than one award to more kids. Then make sure each year that the teachers doing the nominations are on board with the original concept/requirements. Gotta do that. Jesse’s watching.
2010-07-5 by Ann CalhounAnn, I spent the weekend thinking about it, ever since Gilda (commented above) said she would throw in. I remembered her husband went to school there, and would they want to give an award too? Then I started talking to other people, to my friend Suparna who would very definitely give an award to a kid who’s interested in (that’s all, just interested in, not good at) science. And then I went to Jon Webb, FourStory’s publisher, and he and his wife Deb said they would give one honoring fairness. And maybe a second one for art. And so on. I think we could get a lot of people involved. So everybody just needs to think what they want their awards to be for! We have a whole year, after all.
2010-07-5 by rebeccaThough I’m sad Rebecca deleted my original post, I read her (other) readers very positive responses with great interest.
To a man, they all seem to think she is right, that ALL the children should receive a prize.
Perhaps believing that positive reinforcement will promote good self-esteem and better behavior.
Oscar Wilde said, “Such is the stupidity of optimism.”
And I heartily agree!
2010-07-7 by Joe MackJoe, I don’t believe I deleted anything?
2010-07-7 by rebeccaHmm, odd. It was on Greater Long Beach.
I don’t mind being deleted. But, I love to know why. I find it very entertaining reading.
2010-07-7 by Joe MackOh. Well, I don’t have deleting privileges at Greater Long Beach. I guess Dave must have thought it was mean or something. You should ask him!
2010-07-7 by rebeccaMy heart is wrenched. Totally give it to the fighter, the outcast, the kid that tries in some way that doesn’t exactly fill the requirements but is recognized for some awesome quality that doesn’t fit neatly into any of the other catagories!
You are wonderful.
Perfect attendance is a parents award not a kids ( gee thanks for sending your kid to school even when he was contagious) because really-what 5/7/9 year old decides for themselves when they are staying home? I hope you keep fighting for that kid who’s parents didn’t show up for end of year assembly, who doesn’t have the suit on, who maybe is already seeing themselves as a f up. Those kids are at an age where the smallest recognition can change their opinion of themselves forever - gangbanger or artist? teacher or thief? thug or doctor? sometimes it really is as simple as saying - “hey someone thinks you’re worth something”
2010-07-8 by Seal
i love you, bahgi. you made me cry. with pride.
2010-07-2 by Donna Schoenkopf