PLAYING CATCH

PLAYING CATCH

For nearly 37 years of my life, my dad was always there. Not once did I ever imagine a world without him. Sadly, in 2008, he left for a better place. There’s no doubt in my mind that he is in Heaven. My dad was the greatest father, son, friend, brother, and uncle anyone could ever ask for. He was a kind, loving person who had no enemies and always avoided arguments, especially with my mother.

Though he was a man of few words, he was deeply loved by everyone who knew him. He treated everyone with respect, even if he disagreed with them. My dad was a hard worker, a great role model, and a teacher of life. He often preached the same lessons to us:

Hard work pays off. Always be on time. Be good to people. Respect your elders. No one is better than you, and you are not better than anyone else.

He was also incredibly strict, and he kept his five children in check. Yes, I made plenty of mistakes, and he made sure I remembered them—usually with the belt. Yet, out of all the memories I have, one stands out the most: playing catch.

After a long day at work, even though he was tired, my dad always made time to play catch with me. He taught me how to throw a curveball and how to pitch low and outside. I’m certain that if it were up to him, he would have loved for me to play professional baseball. That was my dream too.

Sorry, Dad, the Major Leagues didn’t work out. But trust me, I’m in a great position. I’m not a pitcher, third baseman, or left fielder for the New York Yankees. Instead, I’m the proud principal of Rio Hondo High School P-TECH. This job is challenging, but it’s also incredibly rewarding. It’s about helping mold young lives, just like you molded ours.

This position isn’t about me and never will be. It’s about the kids and making their dreams a reality. I often wonder: Why can’t the next U.S. President come from the halls of RHHS P-TECH? Why not? Are we helping kids achieve their dreams? Are we giving them the skills they need to succeed? Are we creating learning environments that truly challenge our students? Or are we missing the bigger picture?

And one final question: did my dad fail because I didn’t make it to the Major Leagues? The answer is a resounding no. He didn’t fail. Along with my teachers, he gave me the skills I needed to succeed in life. Little did he know that those evenings playing catch would inspire me to dream big.

Thank you, Dad. Until we meet again, I’ll keep playing catch.