Susan Flynn
August 16, 2008 06:00 am Jose Gross wore a cap and gown. He marched to pomp and circumstance. The Salem High principal shook his hand. Then — and here's where his graduation story veers from tradition — he was handed a certificate of completion. There was no diploma for Gross, and it hurt. Despite passing the math MCAS, Gross did not pass the English portion of the state test, a graduation requirement since 2003. So he left high school without the piece of paper he needs to go to college and hopefully study physical therapy. The Class of 2008 was urged to chase their dreams. Gross' dreams are on hold until he can master writing the long response essay. "I need the real diploma, that's why I'm here," he says. "Here" is the Lynn campus of North Shore Community College, where Gross and 19 students sat in a small classroom for three hours on Wednesday night, a perfect summer night, with notebooks open and pencils in hand, talking about subjects, verbs and the value that details add to a sentence. It's safe to say they would rather be somewhere else. Yet they come two nights a week — recent high school graduates like Gross, underclassmen and even students who graduated four years ago — determined to learn the skills they need to pass the MCAS and move on with their lives. This session, they are reading "Jonathan Livingston Seagull," a book chosen for a reason, says instructor Arthur Burt. Some of his students identify with the free-spirited bird that doesn't fit in with the flock. "Some of them feel like outcasts," Burt says. "They see their friends moving on, and they're not." For the majority of the students, Gross included, English is not their first language. Some moved to this country two years ago. It's a challenge to write a five-paragraph essay, with at least five sentences in a paragraph, and at least five words in a sentence. Here's a sample question from a previous MCAS: "According to critic Northrup Frye, the purpose of literature is to 'educate the imagination' to train us to see 'what is possible.' Write an essay in which you relate this statement to a work of literature that you have read." This is not a What-I-did-for-summer-vacation-variety essay. "You feel for them. They are intelligent, but they just don't understand," says Harry Spiliotis, an assistant in the class. Take the word "courage." Burt asks the students to give examples of how the sea gull demonstrated courage. There is silence. He waits. "How many of you know what the word courage means?" he asks. Only a few raise their hands. One says he knows, but in Spanish. The MCAS has its share of critics. Burt isn't one of them. "I think the MCAS is good for society," he says. "How can we graduate people who can't do basic math and write?" Still, he feels for the students. Some have come to his class several times. They keep trying. That, he says, is the definition of courage. Molly Kelly graduated in 2005 without a diploma. She is taking the English and math classes this summer, out of the house four nights a week. Her attendance is perfect. Her son, almost 1, is her motivator. "I went through 12 years of high school," Kelly says. "I want that diploma." The MCAS study program, called Pathways to Success, is free. It's led by Kathy Yanchus, a Topsfield resident who admires the perseverance of the students. Of the 40 students taking the course, about 10 are expected to pass the MCAS on the retest in November — about 25 percent. Yanchus is thrilled with the turnout this summer — 20 kids in English and 22 kids in math. "But there are hundreds more out there," she says. With his future in flux, Gross spends his days working in a nursing home and his nights reading about a sea gull who wants to soar higher than the rest. "We are in the same situation as Jonathan," Gross says. "We want a better life." ¬¢¬¢¬¢ Staff writer Susan Flynn can be reached at 978-338-2658 or by e-mail at sflynn@salem news.com.
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