Published: Sunday, March 22, 2009
Path to diploma a marathon for former dropout
Every assignment, every test, every credit brings a former Marysville dropout one step closer to graduation
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Mark Mulligan / The Herald
Mona Robles walks from school to her home in Marysville in February. At home, she changes clothes, then walks to her job at a McDonald's. She cut back her hours there so she would have more time to study.
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Mark Mulligan / The Herald
After school, Mona Robles pauses in the kitchen, where her mother is cooking. Mona is preparing to go to her after school job at a McDonald's.
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Mark Mulligan / The Herald
Mona Robles laughs with a friend during a language arts class at Marysville Mountain View High School.
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Mona often skips lunch, instead catching up on work in the computer lab at Marysville Mountain View High School.
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Mark Mulligan / The Herald
Mona Robles' sparkly shoes reflect her bold fashion sense and personality.
MARYSVILLE -- Wearing the most professional clothes in her closet -- black dress pants and a tight button-up shirt studded with pink rhinestones -- an 18-year-old girl stands before a packed classroom trying to look confident.
Her nervous hands fidget at her side.
This is it. She needs to pass this presentation to graduate.
"Hello, my name is Imelda Robles," she says, faster than she had practiced. "I want to share my high school experience with you. I dropped out after seventh grade. It was because my mom was really religious and I was hanging out with the wrong people."
She clicks through photos in a PowerPoint presentation, pictures of her with friends, most of whom have dropped out of school. She tells the students, teachers and businessmen in the audience about how she slacked off, skipped classes and partied too much.
Imelda, who goes by "Mona," assures everyone she's not like that anymore.
"When I'm out of high school," she says, "I plan to go to college. I don't know what college."
Mona Robles is on the cusp.
She's a runner in the final miles of a marathon. She's exhausted. She wants to be done. She knows she can leave at anytime. It would be easier. And, still, she keeps going. Hopeful.
Like thousands of Snohomish County teens, she could fall either way: high school graduate or dropout.
So much depends on the outcome.
Slightly more than 20 percent of all Washington students don't graduate on time with their class. The state doesn't track how many kids never earn a diploma. The federal government doesn't require the information. Nationwide, just 73 percent of students graduate on time.
Everyone pays.
Experts say crime rates, social service needs and public health care costs could fall if more kids graduated.
Dropouts earn around $10,000 less annually and are more likely to be unemployed than graduates. They make up 75 percent of prison inmates and report more health problems.
Among Hispanic teens, like Mona, the outlook is even bleaker. Nationwide, they are the least likely to graduate, with just 61 percent earning a diploma on time.
"I don't want to be known for that," Mona said. "I don't want to be known for, 'Oh, the Mexicans are dropouts.' "
Now is crunch time.
Like millions of seniors across the country, Mona is trying to cram years of missing credits into her schedule so she can graduate in June.
She needs to finish 15 classes this semester, including at least two math courses, and attempt the dreaded math WASL. Most students take six classes a semester.
"I just don't want to be like everyone else in my family who didn't graduate," Mona said, sitting in her counselor's office at Marysville Mountain View alternative school. "I know I'm capable of doing more. I don't want to get stuck in a low profession. I want to know I did something."
The reasons Hispanic students tend to have a harder time finishing high school are as varied as the students themselves. Some are immigrants, trying to acclimate to a new school, new language, new everything. Some move to this country and go straight to work, bypassing school altogether. Some feel family pressure to stay home and others are turned off by a curriculum that offers scant instruction on Hispanic culture and history.
Mona's parents immigrated to the U.S. years before she was born. They worked in steaming kitchens to support their family. Neither ever attended high school.
Born on Mother's Day, Imelda was named after her mother, but called "Mona" – the Spanish word for "cute" -- fitting for a girl who wears sparkly pink high-tops to school and sleeps in a room painted flamingo pink. She is the third of six siblings; the oldest girl.
Her oldest brother never graduated from high school.
The second oldest, Manuel Robles, also flirted with dropping out, but graduated from Marysville Mountain View last year at 19.
With her parents' consent, Mona dropped out of school when she was 13. She had skipped some, tried smoking, and her parents were worried that other students were influencing her for the worse.
After seventh grade, she left Marysville Middle School for the summer and never came back.
During the next two years, Mona spent five or six hours a day in front of the TV. She watched "SpongeBob SquarePants," MTV music videos and telenovelas. In the evenings, she bused tables and greeted customers at El Rinconcito, the family restaurant. She also helped customers at her family's short-lived Spanish Christian store.
Mona's only friend would visit her there. She did her homework while Mona did "real" work. Mona felt left out when she heard about all she was missing.
The summer before what should have been Mona's sophomore year in high school, a cousin drove her to Marysville Mountain View High School. Mona walked in alone and told counselor Susan Latendresse she wanted to come back to school.
"I remember this girl coming in all by herself -- usually parents come in with the kids," Latendresse said. "I was really impressed that somebody would take the initiative and have the drive to get back into school."
Once teens drop out, it's tough to get them back.
Some return briefly but leave after a few months, discouraged by how much work they have to make up. Dropouts are often stuck in classes with younger students -- embarrassed by all they don't know. Others take classes online or study on their own for a GED, but that takes self-discipline.
There aren't credible statistics on the likelihood of a dropout returning to school and earning a diploma.
"Over a million students drop out each year," said Marty Duckenfield, public information director for the National Dropout Prevention Center at Clemson University in South Carolina. "That's 25,000 to 26,000 school buses pushed over a cliff."
Every day is a challenge.
Mona pulls herself out from under her pink comforter, makes breakfast and walks 20 minutes to school. She whizzes through two math classes, art, language arts and a computer course, turning in work, moving ahead, desperate to finish by graduation. Most days, she spends lunch in the computer lab, working on assignments.
In the afternoon, she meets with Jamie Sagerson, a dropout specialist with the Marysville School District's Building Bridges program.
In Marysville, just half of students finish high school on time, according to 2006 state statistics.
Even now, just months from graduation, students become discouraged and drop out.
"They get overwhelmed," said Deidra McCollum, the district's liaison for on-time graduation. "Everybody gets a little bit of a spring fever 'graduatitis.' It's like they can see the end, but there's so much to do to get there."
Latendresse and many of Mona's teachers say they believe she will graduate in June, a year behind her class. But if she's going to succeed, Mona can't afford to skip class or slack off on homework.
She recently cut her hours back at her job at a McDonald's, from around 40 hours a week to 20, to give herself more time to study.
"It's not going to be easy," Latendresse said. "She has a lot to do. She's really good about coming and checking and looking at her graduation plan and looking and knowing what she has to do. I think she can do it -- as long as she doesn't give up."
A few minutes into her senior presentation, Mona's nerves are still making her jittery.
She talks about her proudest high school achievements: winning a cooking competition, organizing a college and career fair, passing the reading and writing WASL.
When she first came back to school, Mona got sick just thinking about reading out loud. She was so far behind, she had to sound-out words her classmates mastered in middle school.
In front of her peers, she pushes on.
Finishing this presentation, her senior culminating project, will bring her one requirement closer to a diploma.
She says her dream is to own her own restaurant -- Mexican and Italian maybe. She'd like to follow her roots back to the Aztec pyramids in Mexico.
"I don't know how the future may be," she says. "I do intend to have a plan for it."
She smiles, embarrassed, and exhales.
She's finished.
She worries she talked too fast. She had practiced over and over. She was supposed to speak slowly.
To applause, Mona clicks off the PowerPoint program and walks to Sagerson, sitting in the front row.
Mona kneels beside her mentor and whispers.
"I'm so disappointed in myself."
A few weeks later, the results are in.
She passed.
Kaitlin Manry: 425-339-3292, kmanry@heraldnet.com.
Her nervous hands fidget at her side.
This is it. She needs to pass this presentation to graduate.
"Hello, my name is Imelda Robles," she says, faster than she had practiced. "I want to share my high school experience with you. I dropped out after seventh grade. It was because my mom was really religious and I was hanging out with the wrong people."
She clicks through photos in a PowerPoint presentation, pictures of her with friends, most of whom have dropped out of school. She tells the students, teachers and businessmen in the audience about how she slacked off, skipped classes and partied too much.
Imelda, who goes by "Mona," assures everyone she's not like that anymore.
"When I'm out of high school," she says, "I plan to go to college. I don't know what college."
Mona Robles is on the cusp.
She's a runner in the final miles of a marathon. She's exhausted. She wants to be done. She knows she can leave at anytime. It would be easier. And, still, she keeps going. Hopeful.
Like thousands of Snohomish County teens, she could fall either way: high school graduate or dropout.
So much depends on the outcome.
Slightly more than 20 percent of all Washington students don't graduate on time with their class. The state doesn't track how many kids never earn a diploma. The federal government doesn't require the information. Nationwide, just 73 percent of students graduate on time.
Everyone pays.
Experts say crime rates, social service needs and public health care costs could fall if more kids graduated.
Dropouts earn around $10,000 less annually and are more likely to be unemployed than graduates. They make up 75 percent of prison inmates and report more health problems.
Among Hispanic teens, like Mona, the outlook is even bleaker. Nationwide, they are the least likely to graduate, with just 61 percent earning a diploma on time.
"I don't want to be known for that," Mona said. "I don't want to be known for, 'Oh, the Mexicans are dropouts.' "
Now is crunch time.
Like millions of seniors across the country, Mona is trying to cram years of missing credits into her schedule so she can graduate in June.
She needs to finish 15 classes this semester, including at least two math courses, and attempt the dreaded math WASL. Most students take six classes a semester.
"I just don't want to be like everyone else in my family who didn't graduate," Mona said, sitting in her counselor's office at Marysville Mountain View alternative school. "I know I'm capable of doing more. I don't want to get stuck in a low profession. I want to know I did something."
The reasons Hispanic students tend to have a harder time finishing high school are as varied as the students themselves. Some are immigrants, trying to acclimate to a new school, new language, new everything. Some move to this country and go straight to work, bypassing school altogether. Some feel family pressure to stay home and others are turned off by a curriculum that offers scant instruction on Hispanic culture and history.
Mona's parents immigrated to the U.S. years before she was born. They worked in steaming kitchens to support their family. Neither ever attended high school.
Born on Mother's Day, Imelda was named after her mother, but called "Mona" – the Spanish word for "cute" -- fitting for a girl who wears sparkly pink high-tops to school and sleeps in a room painted flamingo pink. She is the third of six siblings; the oldest girl.
Her oldest brother never graduated from high school.
The second oldest, Manuel Robles, also flirted with dropping out, but graduated from Marysville Mountain View last year at 19.
With her parents' consent, Mona dropped out of school when she was 13. She had skipped some, tried smoking, and her parents were worried that other students were influencing her for the worse.
After seventh grade, she left Marysville Middle School for the summer and never came back.
During the next two years, Mona spent five or six hours a day in front of the TV. She watched "SpongeBob SquarePants," MTV music videos and telenovelas. In the evenings, she bused tables and greeted customers at El Rinconcito, the family restaurant. She also helped customers at her family's short-lived Spanish Christian store.
Mona's only friend would visit her there. She did her homework while Mona did "real" work. Mona felt left out when she heard about all she was missing.
The summer before what should have been Mona's sophomore year in high school, a cousin drove her to Marysville Mountain View High School. Mona walked in alone and told counselor Susan Latendresse she wanted to come back to school.
"I remember this girl coming in all by herself -- usually parents come in with the kids," Latendresse said. "I was really impressed that somebody would take the initiative and have the drive to get back into school."
Once teens drop out, it's tough to get them back.
Some return briefly but leave after a few months, discouraged by how much work they have to make up. Dropouts are often stuck in classes with younger students -- embarrassed by all they don't know. Others take classes online or study on their own for a GED, but that takes self-discipline.
There aren't credible statistics on the likelihood of a dropout returning to school and earning a diploma.
"Over a million students drop out each year," said Marty Duckenfield, public information director for the National Dropout Prevention Center at Clemson University in South Carolina. "That's 25,000 to 26,000 school buses pushed over a cliff."
Every day is a challenge.
Mona pulls herself out from under her pink comforter, makes breakfast and walks 20 minutes to school. She whizzes through two math classes, art, language arts and a computer course, turning in work, moving ahead, desperate to finish by graduation. Most days, she spends lunch in the computer lab, working on assignments.
In the afternoon, she meets with Jamie Sagerson, a dropout specialist with the Marysville School District's Building Bridges program.
In Marysville, just half of students finish high school on time, according to 2006 state statistics.
Even now, just months from graduation, students become discouraged and drop out.
"They get overwhelmed," said Deidra McCollum, the district's liaison for on-time graduation. "Everybody gets a little bit of a spring fever 'graduatitis.' It's like they can see the end, but there's so much to do to get there."
Latendresse and many of Mona's teachers say they believe she will graduate in June, a year behind her class. But if she's going to succeed, Mona can't afford to skip class or slack off on homework.
She recently cut her hours back at her job at a McDonald's, from around 40 hours a week to 20, to give herself more time to study.
"It's not going to be easy," Latendresse said. "She has a lot to do. She's really good about coming and checking and looking at her graduation plan and looking and knowing what she has to do. I think she can do it -- as long as she doesn't give up."
A few minutes into her senior presentation, Mona's nerves are still making her jittery.
She talks about her proudest high school achievements: winning a cooking competition, organizing a college and career fair, passing the reading and writing WASL.
When she first came back to school, Mona got sick just thinking about reading out loud. She was so far behind, she had to sound-out words her classmates mastered in middle school.
In front of her peers, she pushes on.
Finishing this presentation, her senior culminating project, will bring her one requirement closer to a diploma.
She says her dream is to own her own restaurant -- Mexican and Italian maybe. She'd like to follow her roots back to the Aztec pyramids in Mexico.
"I don't know how the future may be," she says. "I do intend to have a plan for it."
She smiles, embarrassed, and exhales.
She's finished.
She worries she talked too fast. She had practiced over and over. She was supposed to speak slowly.
To applause, Mona clicks off the PowerPoint program and walks to Sagerson, sitting in the front row.
Mona kneels beside her mentor and whispers.
"I'm so disappointed in myself."
A few weeks later, the results are in.
She passed.
Kaitlin Manry: 425-339-3292, kmanry@heraldnet.com.
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