Resurrection
By his own admission, Adan Peña was a lousy
student. Lazy. Apathetic. A typical junior high loser.
Call it a family tradition. Of his 19 aunts
and uncles, only two have received a high school diploma, and Adan was on his
way of slacking out of Nazareth High School and into a life of who knows what —
at best, working on a dairy farm. At worst, jail.
“In junior high, I was one of those kids
who teachers hated,” said Peña, now a senior. “I didn’t care about school. I
put forth little or no effort. I was always looking for trouble.”
It was easy to find. Wanna-be gangsters
from surrounding towns. Tobacco. Alcohol. Drugs. Just another troubled Hispanic
kid going nowhere.
His freshman year in high school was even
worse.
“My grades were at an all-time low,” he
said. “I was on the brink of flunking out, of going down the same path as
almost all of my family members. Quit. Struggle. Live the rest of my life doing
hard work for little or no money. I figured that’s where I was headed anyway,
so why fight it.”
But his sophomore English teacher, Cindy
Huseman, saw something in him that others didn’t. Adan had all kinds of
problems, but he was smart and articulate when he wanted to be. When Adan’s
grandmother died, his cousins were asked to speak at the funeral. None
volunteered, so he stepped up.
“I spent five hours writing the speech,”
he said. “The night I wrote it, I had a feeling, for the first time, that I was
‘good’ at something other than being lazy.”
The day after the funeral, Huseman — who
had attended the service — encouraged Adan to join the UIL speech team.
“No way,” he said. “Me? In speech?”
He told himself the same old thing: “You’re like the rest of your family: not
good enough. Never was. Never will be.”
But Huseman persisted. Join the
extemporaneous speaking team. Give it a shot. If you don’t like it, if it’s too
hard, if it’s not for you, then move on. But don’t fail before you even try.
Don’t be a coward.
OK, he relented. Where do I sign up?
“I wasn’t very good as a sophomore,” Adan
said. “I was competing in informative and persuasive speaking, and I was
losing, but I realized that it wasn’t because my opponents were smarter than
me. They worked harder. They were better prepared, and that made them more
confident.”
After finishing fourth at the 2009
district meet, he considered quitting. He’d proven to himself what he’d always
believed: You aren’t good enough. You’re a failure. Why bother trying? The day
before he planned to quit the team, Adan’s mother pulled him aside and told him
how proud she was of him, that he was changing the family, that he was living
the dreams she wished she could have lived.
Inspired by the support of his mother and
his coaches, Adan worked harder. He read newspapers, gorged on political and
current events websites, attended speech workshops and clinics. From the first
day of school, he gave three speeches per week. He practically lived Huseman’s
classroom.
Though it was a huge expense for the
family, Adan’s mother spent more than $200 for his tournament outfit.
“I will make it to state this year,” he
vowed. “I will make it to state.”
Last spring, Adan Peña — the junior high
loser — placed second in persuasive speaking at district, first at region and
third at the UIL Academic State Meet, held the first weekend of May on the
campus of the University of Texas at Austin.
“UIL academics have changed my life
entirely,” he said. “I apply the things I learned in speech to my everyday
life, especially the relationship between work and practice and success. I went
from a lost student who did not care about school or his future and have become
an A-student. If I had never joined the speech team, I doubt I would have ever
seen this change.”
When UIL officials draped the third place
medal around his neck, he stood on the stage of the Lyndon B. Johnson
Auditorium on the UT campus and thought, for the first time in his life, “I am
somebody, and I can become anyone or anything I want to be if I’m willing to
work hard enough.”
In May of 2015 of thereabouts, he hopes to
take another stroll across the UT campus — this time, with a university diploma
in his hand.
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