The GICC Class of 2016

One day sixth grader Josh Puncochar, who sits directly behind my desk, decides to stick his pencil into the bowels of  my computer.

A small fire ball explodes dangerously close to his face and shocks us all. Nobody is more shocked than Josh. He stares at me, eyes wide with fright.

"I swear to God!" he shakes his head vehemently. "I didn't do nuthin'!"

Mrs. Howard's fourth period English class

I bury my face in my hands. I do not care to be remembered as the teacher in charge of the kid who fries himself on my computer. If he has to incinerate himself, let him do it on Kester's watch. And didn't we just go over double negatives?

It is my first introduction to the class of 2016. I wonder on that day if I can outlast these sixth graders. Will they graduate before I drop dead?

Josh's partner in crime is Austin Walton, a daring little devil who swaggers through the halls in over-sized cowboy boots. I remember the afternoon he provokes an irritable senior boy and runs like heck. He almost gets away, too. But if you're running from an outraged kid twice your size, you'd better ditch the cowboy boots.

Lauren Webb and Daryn Willman are the girl equivalent of Josh and Austin. Joined at the hip, they raucously laugh and are always each other's best audience. Daryn has perfected an impression of her math teacher, Mr. Ross.

"It's hilarious!" Lauren shrieks. "Wanna see her do it?"

No.  No, I do not. I know with deep certainty that in Mr. Ross's class, Daryn performs an equally unflattering impression of me.

In the faculty lounge, sixth grade teachers stagger through the door to collapse. We congratulate ourselves on surviving another day and prop each other up with soft comforting words the way a mother soothes her colicky baby. Some of us speculate about drinking heavily. Or getting a job at Spin City Laundromat.

It's not that they all scream and blow up desktop computers. Some, in fact, are overachieving 11-year-olds who worry about taking the ACT still four years away and furiously edit and re-edit their college resumes. Emma Reilly hyperventilates when she misses a quiz question. Vasu Balraj agonizes over her history notes. At the other end of the spectrum is Jackson Anderson who strolls from class to class with not a care in the world - or any completed homework either.

Many teachers, like me, accompany them all the way through middle school and high school. We shepherd them to eighth grade field trips, hear about their first homecoming dates, wait anxiously for them to pass their driver's license tests, and choke up as they don caps and gowns. All the while, we are witnessing their transformation from 11-year-old almost adolescents to confident, accomplished young adults. And we know them very well.

Cheerleaders Regan, Rachel and Cynthia

Matt Huntwork and James Noble, twin towheads, have become tall handsome young men. Megan Wardyn with her heart-shaped face is the dancer extraordinaire. Leaping beside her, smile blazing, is Jenny Sindt. Katelin O'Connor and Haley Roush are the quiet blonde beauties who completely lose themselves to the roles of the evil stepsisters in the musical production of Cinderella. And Cynthia Calderon is the perfect compact cheerleader you see in all the movies.Sadie Goering and Emily Herbek are exceptional writers and wise beyond their young years. Lexie Socha, too, is a writer and a brave girl who speaks her mind to kids and teachers alike.

They all have their struggles, some more than most. Bryce Sealock holds his dying father's hand and helps usher him to Heaven. Stoic Regan Moorman keeps the pain of her parents' divorce to herself, and Justice Ritz endures surgery and is forced to give up her beloved softball team. Sweet Jordan Kerns-Schneider, my husband's favorite right hand man, endures daily migraine headaches without complaint. Some of these kids have dealt with alcoholism, depression and even abuse in their families. They write about those experiences in my class, and I am overcome by their forgiving and loving natures.

Josh, Toad, and Austin

Little Rylan Dvorak is true blue and innocent. In middle school, after a trip to Hawaii with his family, he tells us about a frightening moment just before the plane arrives in Hawaii. As the craft lands, the pilot announces, "Ladies and Gentlemen, prepare to get LAID!"

Rylan is horrified and refuses to leave the plane. Finally, he glances out the window to see exotic hula dancers throwing leis around the necks of the arriving passengers.

"I can't even tell you how relieved I was," he shakes his small head soberly.

Brayden Adair is sleepy eyed and movie star handsome, and Eshan Sood is the consummate joker. One day he carries scissors through the halls, pretends to snip off locks of hair from outraged girls, then captures it all on film to post on social media.

Some of these kids are so talented it's a sin. I think of Mallory Woods in middle school singing sweetly on stage as Alice in Wonderland. This year she is Cinderella in the school musical, and I can hardly believe her grownup poise and beauty. In English class, however, she writes about her biggest disappointment - that she is not an African American pop star called "Shaquisha".

There is nobody more musical, however, than Molly Magana who masters like a pro the flute, the sax, the ukulele, and is utterly devoted to her band teacher, Ms. Balasa.

Jackson loves beautiful Vasu, Josh Arends adores the enchanting Rachel Zulkoski, and Ryan Bernal and Shayla Serrato are the cradle snatchers of the group. I worry they are too young for such seriousness. Caring for another so deeply, however, has helped them become better people.

Idalis Erives, with her warm brown eyes, is sweet as cream, and Meghan Vaughn crinkles her nose when she laughs and endears herself to all of us. Nathan Boon's lazy smile greets teachers in the hallway, and he works our crowd like a pro.

In my fourth period English class, Aidan Ziller is a clown, and I can't wait for the good natured insults he showers on lovable Saul Llamas - or Poppy, as his friends call him, and Treyton Ruhl, the tall, patient kid everybody loves.

Laura Lowry, aged 2, with Kenny and Tommy Howard,.

Most of us remember the birth of Laura Lowry, whose father James teaches at GICC.  John and I babysit her when she is a toddler, and our boys adore her. Tommy, our eight-year-old, sighs. "Why can't she be my baby sister?"

Laura is still beautiful and blue-eyed but doesn't need a babysitter anymore. They are all young adults now, and they can hardly wait to barrel out the door.

As if I am propelled into the future, I can vividly see Jimmy Riley astride his tractor on a hot July day. Vasu, in a white lab coat, gently listens to her patients. and Michael Cornelius is always in a pressed suit striding around with a microphone. What the heck is he doing with a microphone, I wonder? It will be something exceptional and important - that's all I know.

In any case, they are ready to leave us. They are no longer 11-year-olds. Our little worry wart Emma Reilly has focused her discipline and drive for perfection into tennis and is determined to come back from Lincoln as a champ. Daryn and Lauren are still joined at the hip but are steeling themselves to part ways and begin their own lives. Jackson Anderson, who never bothered with middle school homework, is now an A plus English student. And Josh Puncochar? He hasn't blown up a single computer in six years. They are - all of them - beautiful, strong, brave young men and women.

Armed with the love of good parents, a strong faith and the support of lifelong friendships, our class of 2016 is ready for the next chapter. If they have any qualms at all, it is not evident this week. This week is all about bonding at retreat, laughing at their senior slide show, and walking down the aisle to the stirring notes of Pomp and Circumstance.

They are ready, however, to leave, and we understand we must let them go. My husband and I have said goodbye to two generations of students. But they come back. They become our doctors, our priests, our plumbers and our neighbors. They turn up at Karnival Kapers with their children and grandchildren, and my husband teases them as in days of old.

"You still owe me a history assignment!" he bellows to the balding father of three.

We learn to rely on them in our old age. The Class of 2016 will be no different. They will one day come back to us with their spouses and offspring to tell us about their lives. They will make us very proud.

But what am I saying? Heck. They make us proud now.

Grand Island Central Catholic Class of 2016

Vasu Balraj

I imagine that the young Blessed Virgin Mary was a lot like Vasu Balraj.

 If the Blessed Mother was a practicing Hindu. And had a boyfriend to die for.

Vasu's smile is open and radiant. It is a smile for everybody. People are immediately drawn to her - people who are vulnerable and shy. "With this person," they think, "I will be safe."

Vasu Balraj

On her first day of sixth grade, Vasundhara Balraj arrives at Grand Island Central Catholic. Her mom, a sweet overly protective Indian mother, is the only mother in a hallway that teems with hundreds of excited, scared, sweating adolescents.

"Vasu," she hovers anxiously over her small daughter. "I will help you with your locker."

Vasu rolls her eyes in agony. "Mom!" she turns on the woman who adores her. "You have to go! I'm fine!"

Thinking about that day seven years ago as she prepares to graduate, Vasu is touchingly grateful for her beautiful mother, Seema. "I'm so lucky to have my mom," Vasu says. "She does everything to keep my sister Seerat and me safe."

Vasu appreciates all the adults in her life - her father, Kavir, who teases her and makes her laugh. She is thankful, as well, for her GICC teachers who have become important to her through the years.

"It was the teachers who made the biggest impact on me here," she recalls."They were so welcoming that first day of sixth grade."

She remembers that Mr. Kester tips them in their desks and makes them shriek with laughter. Mrs. O'Connor welcomes them at the door of her classroom, and gentle Miss Wiles talks to them about their Catholic faith.

Except that Vasu is not Catholic. It's a tricky dilemma for a tiny Hindu girl to navigate her way through Catholic school waters. But not so tricky. Her religion teacher, Miss Wiles, poses thoughtful questions about Vasu's Hindustani culture and faith. Vasu is reluctant to answer at first. Her classmates, however, are fascinated by their lovely classmate with her big dark eyes and beaming smile.

They ask questions about Hinduism. She asks questions about Catholicism. Somewhere, in the mushy middle, they come to recognize the great teachings that filter through all faiths: to love one another, to thank God for all his blessings, to recognize and repent of our sins.

"Studying Catholicism has helped me grow in my own faith," Vasu says. "Sometimes, I presume other faiths or cultures might say my faith is the wrong one, but I know that's not true."

GICC chaplain Father Scott Harter teaches Vasu's religion class that God has come to save all his people. He tells students that being Christian or Muslim or Jewish doesn't matter. "God loves us all," he tells them. "We are all his kids." His words hit home with Vasu. In a world that seems increasingly suspicious of other cultures and faiths, she is reassured that God is still loving and tolerant.

Her confidence grows at Central Catholic. In the ninth grade she commits herself body, soul and spirit to speech and drama. Vasu is not only good and gentle to the core. She's a big time ham. Her speech coach, Brian Mohr, persuades her to develop a humorous speech for the district contest. Vasu decides to find humor in a subject nearest and dearest to her heart -  her Indian roots. Her mother and father, who have grown up in northern India, come to the United States the year after Vasu's birth. Although Vasu is completely Americanized, she is deeply in tune with her Indian heritage and visits her family in India regularly. For her humorous speech,Vasu has discovered plenty of material in her own family.

In a flawless Hindustani accent born of many vacations with her northern India family, Vasu's speech wins award after award. Her spot on impersonations of her parents and grandparents bring the audience to their knees.

Her parents, she confides to the audience, are so obsessed with her grades that nothing but perfect scores are acceptable. Even her B positive blood type is forbidden.

"Vasuuu!" she imitates her traditional grandmother. "Have you gained weight? Why aren't you TALLer? Are you darker than before?"

Vasu, a high school freshman, does something unheard of. She bares every adolescent insecurity on stage for all the world to see. And she laughs at herself.

I insist that she perform her speech in our ninth grade English class. Vasu is happy to do so. It is perhaps the hardest thing in the world - to perform in front of your peers. But Vasu abandons herself and hurls her pride out the window. Her classmates explode with laughter. I think I have never laughed so hard myself. This beautiful dark eyed girl turns all our  insecurities and foibles into a universal bag of laughs. She has made it safe for her classmates to examine their own ludicrous fears and find that there is nothing so fearful after all. They're all in the same pimple popping, hormonal wrenching, I-hate-myself boat. And it's funny as heck. Vasu's humorous speech takes a third place finish at the state tournament.

Now the end of her high school career approaches. She has entertained hundreds with her honest depictions of life. She's been part of an award winning golf team. Most of all, though, she's made many good friends, the kind of friends that last a life time.

Next year she will enroll at St. Louis University to study medicine.There will be no speech meets or golf teams. Instead, she will study hard to help other people. Inspired by her grandfather from India, Vasu hopes to be like him.

"He was a doctor who opened up schools and hospitals for the underprivileged," she explains. Her parents have always understood Vasu's great compassion for others. Vasu is beginning to understand it herself.

Last weekend is junior-senior prom. Vasu dresses for the formal event in traditional Indian garb. She is beautiful and looks every bit the exotic Indian princess.

In her prom pictures, she radiates joy and confidence. Even at her last high school dance, she embraces her culture and family. She has no desire to be anybody but who she is.

Why would she? She is Vasundhara Balraj. And she is perfect.