Essay On Vernon Hill Life

Vernon Hill, a poverty-stricken neighborhood in Worcester, MA, with its abandoned, worn-down tenements, boarded windows, and graphite signs initially intimidated me. I rode with ease in my parents’ Suburban to Worcester Academy, atop Vernon Hill, for lacrosse practices, but once I stepped off campus, I was nervous walking around and daunted by the decrepit surroundings. I had grown up in a bubble of privilege and was unfamiliar with the drastic inequities between my lacrosse team and the children who live in this impoverished community.
As the child of professional parents, I, somewhat embarrassingly, never recognized the fortunes I took for granted in my daily surroundings and private school. Instead, I chose a path of least resistance, never challenging myself to truly make the most of opportunities. I took comfort in my insulated world of sports and friends from similar social and economic backgrounds.
When my sister asked me to accompany her to Ascension, an after-school enrichment program founded by St. John’s Parish for the children of Vernon Hill, I was scared, unsure and wondered what I
could impart to them. How could I provide emotional and academic support for these youngsters who attend one of Worcester’s lowest-performing schools? I questioned whether I would be able to relate to these students or even tutor them. But then I met Rash-Angel. Behind his mask of resiliency was a lonely young boy who had not been given many opportunities to reach his potential. Traumatized by the incarceration of his teenage brother, I realized that his “tough guy” attitude and “copycat” behavior was just a performance. At first, he ignored me and refused my attempts to befriend him. When we would sit down at the desk together for tutoring, I looked at his too-small pants and compared them to my pristine private-school uniform. For the first time in my life, I became acutely aware of my educational and material advantages.
I thought about not returning to Ascension, but something compelled me to seek Rash out each week. I was challenged by his shell of resistance and surprised myself with my efforts to break through whether it was talking about our shared love of football or keeping a stash of old baseball cards in my backpack as rewards for Rash when he completed a challenging task. These cards, although practically worthless to me, were riches to him. I try to serve as a role model for Rash but sometimes become frustrated by my limitations as I want to give him more than what my mentorship can provide. I recognize that I have limitless opportunities as I prepare for college while Rash-Angel cannot see beyond the horizon of this neighborhood.
Instead of just returning to my home after visits to Ascension, I started walking Vernon Hill after lacrosse to check on him. Four years later, Rash slaps me high five when I greet him and eagerly grabs the football. Rash has taught me about the importance of empathy, but he has also taught me the intrinsic reward of giving of oneself.
When I entered St.
John’s High School, the Xaverian Brothers’ mission to use one’s education to help others was an abstract concept and Vernon Hill was simply a low-income neighborhood that I drove through to get to lacrosse practice. I, admittedly, volunteered at Ascension to fulfill community service requirements. Now, as I prepare to graduate, the Catholic philosophy is no longer just words, the neighborhood is not just city squalor, and Rash is not just the boy I tutor. My afternoons mentoring Rash have been transformative. I have not been able to radically alter the stark realities of Rash’s circumstances, but I brought some joy and a glimpse of brighter future possibilities beyond the constraints of Vernon Hill. The initial service obligation flourished into the equally beneficial, life-changing opportunity to make a difference not only for Rash-Angel but for
me.