RHS Distinguished Graduate Award Ceremony

Rutherford Senior High School

April 11, 2008

 

 

Good morning and thank you for that generous introduction. Let me begin by acknowledging a few people here today: my brother and sister-in-law, Alan and Marilyn Kress. Alan’s from the Class of 1964 and whenever they’d call the roll at the start of the school year, the teacher would always say my name and then proclaim, “oh no, not another Kress….”; also one of my classmates from the Class of 1967, Diane Maschio Kratz. There’s also someone present today who means a lot to me, Mr. Paul Buhtanic, former RHS English teacher, drama coach, and mentor. Thank you, Mr. B. for nominating me for this award.

 

When Mrs. Gearity asked how I wanted to be listed among the distinguished group of awardees who have preceded me, I suggested the terms “social justice advocate” or “social justice champion” because the concept of social justice has influenced me in the choices I’ve made and the paths I’ve taken in my professional and personal life. Working towards a more just society is what really matters to me. So I’m going to try and weave the theme of pursuing social justice throughout my remarks this morning.

 

Mr. Hurley recommended I cover 3 broad topics -- a walk down memory lane in terms of reflecting back on my time in high school; what’s influenced my career path, and a bit about what I’m doing in Washington.

 

So let’s go back a few years to the middle of the 1960’s – more than just a few years – 40 actually -- and my time at Rutherford High. Those years were, for the most part, happy ones.  I threw myself into everything. I served on the student council, as homeroom president, and worked on the school literary magazine, Hi-Lights. But I spent most of my waking hours right here in this auditorium with budding actors, set designers, wardrobe mistresses, and the like who were all part of Masquers, the drama club whose faculty sponsor was our favorite teacher, Mr. B. I secretly wanted to be an actress, but I lacked self-confidence. I didn’t think I had the looks or the talent to be on the front lines. So I stayed behind the scenes and got involved as a student director, for which I received the Masquers Award during my junior year. That was one of my happiest moments. Another was in my senior year when I received the most votes for the title of Class Wit – a nice way of saying “Class Clown.” There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do in high school to get a laugh.

 

So what was RHS like then? Well, for one thing there were a lot of extra-curricular activities, especially clubs.  Some of the clubs reflected the times, like the Folk Singing Club, and others were segregated along gender lines like Future Nurses of America and Future Teachers of America. On the other side, there were male-only clubs like The Producers Club where guys hauling around AV equipment and the Radio Electronics Club which showed guys how to repair radios. What fun!

 

Academically, RHS was sound and considered cutting edge. The most advanced technology then was the brand new language lab in my Spanish class where you plugged your headphones into the wall and a voice would miraculously talk to you and you’d talk back. I still remember some of the dialogue: “Albondigas con arroz”…. “meatballs and rice” (the tape was supposed to be a conversation in some school cafeteria where the kids were eating lunch). The noise in our classroom would be deafening as we huddled in groups of 5 or 6 students with wires tethering us to the walls, yelling in unison at everyone but at no one, “albondigas con arroz!”  I also learned how to type on a manual typewriter – not even electric – and for gym class, we wore these hideous red, one-piece bloomers, and of course jeans were the kind of pants you wore only when you went camping.

 

Everyone was into sports and all the games were well-attended. My class had a lot of school spirit. We were also very social and did a lot of hanging out at Uncle Eddie’s Luncheonette, next to the Public Library, devouring French Fries and cherry cokes. Then, when we were old enough to drive, we’d go to Rutt’s Hut for rippers and onion rings, which is exactly what we dined on last November at my 40^th HS reunion, with a celebratory dinner at Rutt’s Hut, a place where time has truly stood still.

 

I was also affected by two unique events that occurred during high school:  my father died, quite unexpectedly, during my junior year, and for those of you who have lost a parent or someone close to you, your life is changed by that experience. After he died, all I could think about was getting away from home for awhile. So I applied and was accepted into an exchange student program and traveled to the southern-most part of Chile – this was during the summer of 1965 – and lived with a family of 9 children. These 2 experiences – losing a parent at 16 and living among an entirely different culture that included grinding poverty -- had a profound impact on me for years to come.

 

Overall, I received a good education at RHS for which I’m grateful. I was mentored by remarkable teachers like Mr. B., developed life-long friendships, and took with me all the best about growing up in a small town where people really care about one another.

 

Now, don’t be misled and think that by the time I graduated from high school, I knew exactly where I was going. All I knew, frankly, was that I was going to New York University.  Like many of you, I had already received plenty of advice to follow my dream, to find my passion. But I didn’t get it. On a whim, I declared my major as Spanish, figuring I’d become an interpreter at the UN. But then something happened…maybe I lost interest, or maybe it got too hard, or maybe I wound up with a lousy grade. I don’t know. All I do know is that I switched my major to journalism since I loved to write. But I still couldn’t find the dream to follow or the passion to pursue.

 

It wasn’t until my junior year in college that I had my first “Aha Moment,” you know where a light bulb goes off in your head. By day I was taking sociology courses with a focus on crime and justice, learning all about retribution and rehabilitation, and in the evening, hanging out with a group of friends from an ex-offender organization known as The Fortune Society talking about their own journey from incarceration to a second chance at freedom.

 

I mention this because if you don’t yet have a dream or a passion, or a clear plan as to what you want to do when you grow up, you’re not alone. But do listen for those “Aha Moments” when something clicks in your head, you realize what turns you on, and you start to see some light at the end of the tunnel.

 

Now, once I figured out that what I really cared about was justice, did I pursue a straight line in terms of a career trajectory?  Absolutely not.  I started out as a teacher in a university setting and spent 3 years hopefully inspiring auditoriums of students that looked a lot like this setting.  My advice to them then, which bears repeating to you now, is learn how to write well and how to be analytical. If you can articulate clearly your thoughts on paper and evoke emotions in others through your writing, and if you can unpack and analyze the world around you, you’ll succeed in whatever field you decide to pursue.

 

From teaching I went on to a number of different jobs in the justice field: as a researcher, public policy analyst, project manager, grant-maker, government civil servant, and currently, manager of a non-profit organization. Throughout this winding career path, the concepts of justice and law and social change have always been my anchors and have kept me focused regardless of my vantage point. So here’s another life lesson that’s served me well. You don’t have to pursue one thing and stick with it, especially if you’re unhappy, unchallenged, or undecided. You can reinvent yourself over and over again and go down as many paths as you can carve out for yourself.

 

It’s also a good idea to keep an open mind as you do this. I almost missed out on an opportunity to work for former Attorney General Janet Reno, because I thought government service would be boring and too routine for me. Was I ever wrong!  My 9 years at the US Dept. of Justice were remarkable, not because of my achievements – mostly I worked very hard – but because of the people I met, the programs I helped shape, and the funding I was able to provide to people in some of the poorest parts of the country. I learned about Indian law, about sovereignty, how to be a bit of a diplomat, how to listen – that I learned from Attorney General Janet Reno. (She’d hold these listening conferences and listen to hundreds of Indians who were very upset with the disparate treatment afforded them by the US Government…)  So keeping an open mind has served me well, indeed.

 

I’ve also reaped rewards by taking risks and being willing to let people discover that I don’t know everything, and in some instances I know nothing.  As I approached my ninth year in the Justice Department in 2002, I was very unhappy and knew it was time to move on. It was then that I heard about an opportunity for a “detail,” where you can get yourself loaned to another part of the Federal government or on the state or local government level. My detail was to the City Council in Washington where I spent a year as a staffer to the Judiciary Committee – like a congressional committee that introduces legislation and makes laws, but of course on a smaller scale. So here I was, more than 50 years old, with no experience working on the local level of government, not having been to law school, never having drafted legislation, being given a cubicle in the middle of a completely chaotic office, reporting to people young enough to be my grandkids. What’s the lesson here?  Partly it’s that taking a risk and trying something entirely new is a good thing and that it’s OK if and when people find out you don’t know everything. I knew nothing! But I asked questions, I solicited advice, I watched, and I listened. And it was a risk that paid off because it introduced me to the justice community on the local level, and subsequently to my current position at the Council for Court Excellence.

 

The Council is a non-partisan, non-profit civic organization that for the last 25 years has worked to improve the administration of justice in the District of Columbia. We do that by identifying and promoting justice system reforms; improving public access to justice; and increasing public understanding and support of the justice system.

 

Since 1982, our accomplishments have been in 5 major areas, which are detailed in the 25^th anniversary publication I’ve brought with me today. These include reform of the jury system, civil and criminal justice matters, improving how children are treated in the system -- both the foster care system and the delinquency system; and a lot of attention to community education whereby we’ve published thousands of booklets that explain how the justice system works and how to best negotiate that system.

 

The organization is governed by a large volunteer Board of Directors composed of members of the legal, business, civic, and judicial communities, and a small staff of 6. We have a robust intern program year-round of college students who engage in research and get to interact with our Board and the many justice system stakeholders that are important to the organization. Our funding comes from a variety of sources: members of the Board of Directors pay dues, we get private and government grants and contracts, we hold a fundraising dinner every year, and we get contributions from people who care deeply about improving justice for the community.

 

I love my job because it’s very challenging and no one day is like another. I get to write and do research, and to work with a very smart staff and help them be successful. I get to inspire people to dig deep into their pockets and give generously, and to be inspired myself by a generous and loyal Board of Directors who volunteer their time and talents to the Council for Court Excellence while they simultaneously juggle full-time jobs.

 

This is a good segueway to my very last point, and that’s about the value of volunteerism. High schools in Washington now require a certain number of hours of community service in order to graduate, the idea being to expose students to doing good deeds for others less fortunate. Community service has always been an important part of my life. My parents were role models, always involved in civic and community activities. Almost from the day I arrived in Washington in 1985, I’ve been active myself in community efforts to help the homeless.  Near where I live, we established a small congregation-based shelter that still serves up to 6 homeless men for a 6 to 9 month period by addressing the root causes of their homelessness through referrals to social services and intensive case management. I’m also a founding member of the Community Council for the Homeless at Friendship Place. Helping people reclaim their lives is enormously satisfying and, I’d like to think, keeps me grounded.

 

In closing, my wish for you -- as you embark on your own journey toward personal and professional fulfillment, is that you listen for the “Aha Moments”, that you let yourself reinvent yourself over and over again, take risks, keep an open mind, make sure your head doesn’t get bigger than the rest of you, allow others to discover that you really don’t know everything and that the world won’t come to an end because of that, that you struggle to write well and to be analytical, and that you freely give of yourself to others in need.

 

Thank you for inviting me to be with you this morning and for honoring me with the RHS Distinguished Graduate Award that I will cherish for years to come.