Mpls.St.Paul Magazine Food + DiningMpls.St.Paul Magazine Shopping + StyleMpls.St.Paul Magazine Arts + EntertainmentMpls.St.Paul Magazine Parties and Party PicsMpls.St.Paul Magazine Travel + VisitorsMpls.St.Paul Magazine HomesMpls.St.Paul Magazine HealthMpls.St.Paul Magazine FamilyMpls.St.Paul Magazine Weddings
Features

The Invisible Student

Ambrose Achua
Photo by Scott Streble

There are more than 4,000 homeless or highly mobile students in Twin Cities schools, but you won't see them.

May 2008

By John Rosengren

Bookmark and Share

He was reluctant at first to accept any help. Jenkins, also the strength coach, would stop to chat with Ambrose in the weight room. “Let me know if you need anything, OK?”

“Yeah, OK,” Ambrose would mumble.

Christmas morning, Ambrose woke up at the Bridge. He and the other kids there opened some presents donated by strangers—a $20 Sprint calling card, an Under Armour shirt, a wallet. Ambrose passed the afternoon roaming the Mall of America with a cousin. “It was like on my birthday. I didn’t get to celebrate,” he says. “I have no family to wish me  merry Christmas or happy birthday.”

Word got back to Jenkins about Ambrose’s Christmas. That didn’t seem right, Jenkins thought. He and another assistant football coach, Tom Harrison, bought Ambrose a gift card to the Mall of America.

One January day after school, Ambrose spotted Jenkins sitting in his car in the parking lot. Jenkins waved him over. Ambrose climbed in. Jenkins had given him rides before. Ambrose buckled his seatbelt. “No, I’m not giving you a ride,” Jenkins said. “I’ve got something better for you.

“You know how you said you didn’t want any help? I hear you, but I’m not listening. Coach Harrison and I got you something.”

He held out an envelope to Ambrose. Ambrose didn’t want to take it. “You didn’t have to do anything for me.”

“Everybody deserves to have a nice Christmas,” Jenkins said.

Ambrose opened the envelope and looked at the amount. Five hundred dollars. Tears filled his eyes. He looked at Jenkins. “Thanks for caring about me, Coach.”

Jenkins gave him a hug. “I care about you. Coach Harrison cares about you. If you ever need something, I’m there for you.”

There’s no happily ever after to this story. Ambrose has cracked his shell wide enough to let in at least one caring adult. He has found a place at the Minneapolis College and Technical College where he can use the computers and do his homework. He believes he is close to lining up an efficiency apartment at Lindquist Apartments, the twenty-four-unit building for homeless youth on West Broadway sponsored by RS Eden and The Link. He looks forward to the track season and his senior year when he’ll have another shot at starting in the Millers’ backfield. He has the smarts and drive to graduate from high school.

But he still has huge obstacles to hurdle and all that pain inside.

His principal would love to hand him his diploma next year. For that to happen, she knows that it’s critical for him to have the community behind him. It won’t take a finger in the face, but it will take an arm around the shoulder.

John Rosengren is the author of the recently released Hammerin’ Hank, George Almighty and the Say Hey Kid: The Season That Changed Baseball Forever.

» Recent Features


mspmag.com | Mpls.St.Paul Magazine © 2009 MSP Communications, Inc. All rights reserved