Ms. Noelle Morano '06 Grad at Grad Reflection on Committed to Doing Justice

The following Grad at Grad reflection was delivered by Ms. Noelle Morano, Associate Director of Admissions, at morning assembly on November 12, 2014 A Loyola Student is Becoming More Committed to Doing Justice As many of you know, my first exposure to service work came from my experiences at Loyola. I started by going on the Camden trips as a sophomore and was quickly hooked. I became a real “service junkie”, as we used to call it when I was a student, and I knew I would never be the same. On Loyola’s service trips I encountered countless injustices and heartbreaking stories, but also witnessed unshakable faith, inspiring generosity, and unyielding love.

One of the most important lessons I learned was the difference between “charity” and “justice”.

While charity often fixes a situation temporarily—like giving a person a sandwich or change on the street—social justice involves making a lasting difference that helps people rise above their circumstances. Charity is certainly necessary to meet the immediate needs of those who are hungry or homeless, for example, but charity will not solve the underlying problems. I learned that being committed to achieving justice meant finding a way to ensure that people do not go hungry in the first place and always have a roof over their heads. It follows a principle many of you have heard before: “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime”.

However inspired I was by my Loyola service experiences, as I sat in the very same bleachers you sit in now, I remember thinking that there was no way I could possibly tackle this concept of justice in my lifetime. Yes, I had the passion, and yes, I had the experience, but honestly could I really make a difference? Where would I start? Would any of it actually matter?

After much soul-searching doing my last year of college, I decided to join Teach for America.

Teach for America is a program where you teach for 2 years in a low-income community to ensure students living in poverty get an excellent education and thus have more equal opportunities in life. I made it into the program and was placed in Minneapolis, Minnesota, teaching middle school Special Education. I had the passion, the drive, and the experience, but I honestly had no idea what I was about to get myself into.

The school was a complete disaster. With constant teacher turnover, no money for resources, and ceiling plaster literally falling into your lunch, it was no wonder that this place seemed to suck the life out of you. “But no matter,” I thought. I would come in, guns blazing, and inspire, educate, and change the lives of my students just like a real-life, Hollywood-teaching movie.

But, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, that is not exactly where this story goes. My experience with one student in particular comes to mind—his name was Terry and he showed me what this justice thing was really all about.

Terry was a 6th grader with severe learning disabilities. He was small for his age, a little guy, with a big smile and even bigger, brown eyes that could turn your heart to mush. Terry would have good days and bad days, days where he couldn’t stop raising his hand to volunteer and days when he would walk out of every class crying. I began to notice that he would sometimes come to school in the same outfit as the day before, smelling as though he hadn’t bathed, and looking exhausted. As we grew closer, I learned Terry usually went to bed without dinner, showering

was not always an option with high water bills, and it was hard for him to concentrate on school while having to watch his little sister at night. My heart dropped. I became so filled with sadness and enraged by how unfair it was that this little boy had to deal with so much. Learning how to master long division and perfect similes seemed so unbelievably trivial in the face of his hardhitting reality. I felt bad so I let him slack off, hand in assignments late, and stopped holding him to the same academic standards as other kids. I would give him granola bars to take home and deodorant to keep in his locker. I thought by giving him things like food and a “break” from the pressures of school that I was helping him.

It was then that I realized what I was really giving Terry was charity, with little to no access to justice. While my Nature Valley snacks and Axe spray probably helped him feel better for the day, what would happen when the school year ended? When I wasn’t his teacher anymore?

While not having to do as much homework would give him an extra hour of sleep, what would happen when he couldn’t pass his exams? When he entered high school reading on a 4th grade level?

I let my feelings of helplessness consume me because I thought that there was no way I could fix everything for Terry—which is true, because I didn’t have any control over his homelife—but I could however help Terry with something very important: getting a solid education. Having the same rigorous education as his more well-off peers would set him up for success and give him access to a better life. Education was the tool that Terry needed to help him build a more just future. We worked hard together that year and were able to make significant gains in his reading and math skills. Terry is now a sophomore, just like many of you, at a rigorous high school and college is a real possibility for him.

I am sure many of you have similarly been overwhelmed by the idea of social justice. It is easy to feel this way at your Christian Service placements or on a trip to Camden after seeing the face of injustices. We can then get weighed down with the thought that change is beyond your capability, time, and effort. When I had these feelings during my time in Teach for America, I often thought back to a prayer many of you have heard before. The prayer is called “A Step Along the Way” (aka Oscar Romero’s Prayer) and is about how, even though we cannot possibly do it all, we are still called to contribute something to make the world a better, more just, place.

My favorite lines go like this: “We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.”

The prayer gets at the same lesson I learned by working with Terry. Just because we cannot solve all of the world’s problems, does not mean we shouldn’t try to fix the ones we can. Thankfully, we all lead very blessed and fortunate lives here at Loyola. You all have been given many gifts and developed many talents that you can use to make this world a more equal place.

Answering the call to become more committed to doing justice is not always easy. It will challenge, confuse, and frustrate you along the way. It is a lifelong journey and one that many of you are just beginning. My challenge to you all would be to think about how you can use your

gifts and talents to answer the call of justice. What difference, no matter how seemingly small, can you make in your school, home, and communities to make this a more just world?

And remember, being committed to doing justice isn’t about worrying if you can do it all, but rather about knowing that you can certainly do something. Â