Catari Giglio, Fenway High, Boston, 2020
As kids, we often dream of what we wish to become when we grow up. I would tell my mother I'd be an architect, that I would design the most beautiful house in the world for her. As I grew older, my ideas changed. I wanted to become a dancer; a graphic designer; a nurse, even. But I never thought I would end up where I am today.
On October 17th, 2018, the Boston Public Schools Administration came to West Roxbury Academy with their proposal of closing it, claiming our building was in a state of emergency, the roofs were crumbling down, and it had become an unsafe space. In the beginning, I was calm until I processed the situation and it hit me. That same night, the first school committee meeting, titled, “BuildBPS”, was held. Students and staff from our school filled the meeting room ready to fight. I was not sure how to navigate the news and the frustration of others. But after attending the meeting, I felt compelled to get involved. I wrote a speech expressing my deepest feelings about the proposal. My body trembled as I approached the table. I took a deep breath and faced the committee in front of me.
“This issue has been known for so long, and it's just now being addressed. The school is still accepting transfer students to this day. And if you knew you were closing us down, why would you admit new students? A transfer can be very overwhelming, so why make it twice as hard?” Many more accusations were made. However, our education did not seem to matter to them. After I finished speaking, the room flooded with applause. I’ll never forget the rush I felt from standing up for myself and the ones I cared about. From that day, I continued going to every meeting. Whether it was in front of the school committee or the community, I did not miss any chance I had to speak up. I wasn't scared of them anymore.
Despite my efforts, the district refused to change their minds. They had made their choice. The only thing they promised to save were the rising seniors, moving them to a space in another school. After the final proposal came my last speeches. I approached the table at the last two meetings with a confidence I had never experienced before, speaking to the adults in front of me, not as if they were superior, but as equals to me. December 2018, the final votes were made. Even after I said my last few words, everything was set. The decision had been made months ago, and deep inside we knew it. But I held my hopes up until they voted out loud. Although I saw it coming, the pain was harder than I had imagined. Perhaps there was no chance for our school. But at least I gave it my all. Was it not enough? Words cannot explain how I felt that night.
I took some time to realize that the fight was lost, but a fighter had ignited. The passion I gave to my speeches opened up so many unexpected doors. People had noticed me. Even members of the board that I had accused of not caring for us congratulated me for my words. And it may sound shallow, but I still feel excited when someone recognizes me for what I did. For a long time, I wasn't sure what I wanted to be when I grew up. This experience, however, solidified that answer for me. I am passionate about speaking up for others who may not be able to for themselves. I am passionate about public speaking and challenging the perspectives of those who are closed-minded. I developed so much of what was hidden inside of me. I realized that I found my calling, and I couldn't be more grateful that I lost that fight.
