John Partington

Johnny Partington is the most infuriatingly stubborn kid. 

GICC senior John Partington

Ever since his eighth grade year at Central Catholic, I've begged to write about him. 

"Nope," he says.

End of conversation.

The next year, I try a more subtle approach. "You've got a great story, John. It would be a disservice not to share it."

He pretends to consider. "Not now. Maybe next year."

Finally, just as I am ready to admit defeat, he relents. Beyond excited, I begin to make plans. We can use his senior picture for the story, I say, as well as a family photo and one of all his buddies.

"No pictures, Mrs. Howard," he says abruptly. "You've got the story. Compromise."

But I'm tired of taking no for an answer. Instead, I do what older, experienced and utterly professional teachers do.

I blackmail the heck out of him.

"That's fine, John," I say easily. "But I think it's time your little video went viral."

John with siblings Joe and Jamie

Just recently, Johnny and his friends Charles Armstrong, Kobi Bales and Will Goering have made a carefully researched video for their beloved religion teacher George Ayoub. All four boys rap as they chronicle the life of St. Francis and, in one startling scene, John appears for a second in a blue strapless prom dress and wig. He really goes all out. I've come into possession of this video - never mind how - and am supremely aware of its value.

John stares hard at me. "You wouldn't."

If only I had a mustache to twirl. "Oh, wouldn't I?"

The difficulty with John Partington is that he shuns any kind of limelight and would prefer to blend into the woodwork. Part of this is inbred modesty. The rest of it, however, is because of his Escobar Syndrome. A genetic condition which tragically took the life of John's infant sister, Escobar Syndrome affects the joints and muscles. John is unable to fully extend his arms and legs and is much shorter than his classmates. He also stutters, which for someone as bright and creative as John, is a relentless frustration.

John with parents Mary Jane and Jim

Friends and teachers know John Partington as the smart, thoughtful, funny kid who makes his classmates laugh out loud and feel good. 

"John Partington," writes one of his classmates for an English paper last year, "is the coolest kid in our class." He judges no one and possesses infinite wisdom beyond his years.

In grade school, however, when kids laugh and call him "Penguin", John's immediate impulse is to beat them up.

"This five foot whatever kid knows how to throw a punch," he laughs. Eventually, he becomes the mob boss of elementary school. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em - that was my grade school mentality," he recalls.

However, middle school angst catches up with him. It isn't his nature to bully, but he can't play sports like other kids. The reality of his life slams John in the face, and by the time he's a freshman, he stops caring altogether - about grades or people or himself.

Fortunately for John, he belongs to a tribe of beautiful, determined warriors. Jim and Mary Jane Partington, John's parents, raise him to be brave. His older siblings Joe and Jamie adore him, and it doesn't hurt that he's surrounded by a gazillion extended family members of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins who love, tease and support him.

Johnny with big brother Joe

Slowly John releases his "self-loathing", as he refers to it, and begins to enjoy his teenage life.

"It was hard enough being a kid, but add in being short, looking different than the typical human being, and a stutter - it's a lot for a little kid," he says. "But I think I just ultimately gave myself a break."

Interestingly, John never stutters when he sings. Last year when students were learning at home because of Covid, my husband John Howard assigned his students the task of filming one of their talents. John Partington, a crazy good musician and composer, sent a clip of his singing and guitar playing.

Not once did he stutter. It was so good that when we all return to school this fall, I show it to my classes on the big classroom screen.

"Good God," John groans in agony from his desk.

"Get over it," I snap, "and learn to gloat a little."

The kids love John's video and clap enthusiastically. They're wild about the way John whales on the drums in High School Band, too, and brings a gym full of fans fervently to their feet. Sometimes he composes and sings in rap. His friends consider this a thing of beauty and marvel at the complicated lyrics John delivers without so much as a glimmer of his stutter.

John, bottom left, with grandparents, aunts,
uncles and cousins

John never stutters if he doesn't have to think about his words either. In English class this year, we somehow enter into a discussion about what constitutes a perfect mate.

"She should be smart and funny and not taller than me," John says. It takes a while to say it, and he pauses several times to regroup between his stuttering.

"And curvaceous," he adds suddenly as an afterthought.

I notice he has no trouble spitting that out.

John is no longer the quiet little bespectacled boy reluctant to speak because of a stutter. Those middle school years are eons ago. Now he's a confident senior laughing and bantering with his friends and thoroughly enjoying this last year of high school. And music is always what John enjoys most.

John with best friend, GICC
senior Charles Armstrong

Charles Armstrong, John's best friend since grade school, loves making rap music with John. 

"We've added our friends Will Goering and Koby Bales to the mix and formed our own group," Charles says. Charles and John also have an obsession for two on two basketball games with Will and Zach Cloud, another good friend. "That's how we occupied ourselves during quarantine," Charles says.

The two friends share many memories. "In grade school," Charles remembers, "John's mom would pick us up after school and take us to the Sonic drive-through." Then the two spent hours playing Call of Duty, Halo and mini-hoop basketball. They created their own rock and roll band called "Adrenaline", and even started a Black Friday tradition. On that day every year, Charles still picks John up to shop for great Christmas deals at 5 in the morning.

"Except one year he overslept and kept me waiting until 6," Charles laughs. "I seriously thought about laying into him for being late, but I was just so happy to finally see him."

Sometimes they go for long drives to discuss their college plans. They wonder about life after Covid, and occasionally they even talk about the big stuff - God and the meaning of life.

John, middle, with friends (from bottom right
going clockwise) Russ Martinez, Reed Martinez, Zach
Cloud, Daniel Rey-Martinez, Kobi Bales, and
Charles Armstrong

John's good friends come from all over the school and from every community. He feels close to his band mates, especially some who have graduated. Joe Mueller, Nettie Van Heufeln and Faith Koralewski are still good friends and band allies. He loves everything about band and band instructor Monika Peters. "We're a bigger band than we've ever been - which is a pretty big accomplishment because we're typically a jock school," John says proudly.

With music, John has discovered articulation and expression for his life. His favorite songwriter ever, he says, is Jeff Tweedy from the band Wilco. "His lyrics tend to be pretty abstract and nonsensical. But I think it's cool to have lyrics that ultimately mean nothing. People can make their own interpretations. That's a tool I try to use in my own song writing."

Next year John plans to study computer programming and eventually hopes to major in Computer Science. But he'd like to study music, too. His ultimate goal is to become a musician.

"I guess the financially safe side of me tells me to get a more financially safe job first," he grins ruefully.

Those of us who who know and love him, however, believe he'll venture into the musical world someday.

"That's John Partington!" we'll tell a future generation when he hits it big. We will remember the small stuttering boy with the big mind and heart who made us all smile, and we'll puff out our chests and be very proud.

But who are we kidding, Johnny. We're very proud now.