The seemingly healthy man in the striped shirt caught the students' attention immediately with his story of growing up in an abusive family, turning into an alcoholic and becoming HIV positive from having unprotected sex with a woman after heavy bouts of drinking.
"I now take 30 and sometimes 40 pills a day, and have had organ failure and tumors removed," said Mike Aguilera, whose HIV-positive status has not yet resulted in AIDS. But his physical problems haven't evoked sympathy. In fact, the father of two encountered quite the opposite reaction from others.
"My dad told me to get in my car and drive to Mexico or Canada, because I had brought disgrace upon my family. I lost my job and lost my insurance. A dentist kicked me out of his office and said I was an abomination," a tearful Aguilera recounted. "If you think HIV doesn't affect you or doesn't exist in this town, remember that it was right here in the same classroom as you. And the next time you make a joke about AIDS, think about me and think about how I got here."
Sharon Froba, whose family immigrated from Iran, coordinates Modesto's Day of Respect.
Aguilera was a guest in the classroom of Modesto Teachers Association (MTA) member Bonnie Baker. He stood just inches away from students. He looked them straight in the eye, forcing them to look back and, in the process, confront their own attitudes and stereotypes about HIV and AIDS.
Two other speakers followed. Charlie Crane, an African American, talked about segregation in the South in 1945, when he had to sit in the back of an empty train until crossing the Mason-Dixon Line to the North. He told students how, after joining the Army in 1954, he was turned away from restaurants that didn't serve blacks. "I was going to lay down my life for my country to help people I couldn't even eat with," Crane said. Embittered, he engaged in self-destructive behavior that included fighting and drinking. Eventually he stopped the negative behavior, earned a master's degree and came to the realization that "95 percent of problems are not caused by racism outside, it's how you respond to it inside."
Awwad Ali, a Muslim, told students that terrorism is not a part of Islam. "No one called Timothy McVeigh a Christian terrorist and nobody called David Koresh a Catholic terrorist," Ali pointed out to students. "We cannot hate each other out of ignorance."
Emotional encounters such as these took place in every English class at Modesto High School during the Day of Respect, a one-of-a-kind, annual event that brings students face to face with victims of intolerance and prejudice.
Modesto High School teacher Julie Carota gets as wide-eyed as student Jonathan Guzman when listening to visitors discuss the topic of tolerance.
Among the other Day of Respect guest speakers were the mother of a lesbian, a woman who lost both arms in a land mine accident, a Native American woman, a disabled woman who must use a wheelchair but is able to drive, and a Holocaust survivor who knew Anne Frank. MTA member Julie Carota was inspired to tell her own story of not knowing as a child that she was half Hispanic, and feeling confused about her identity. "Be proud of who you are," she told her students. "Find out as much as you can about your ethnic background and traditions."
At most schools, prejudice is discussed in the abstract, based on events that happened long ago. But at Modesto High School, victims of cruelty and intolerance aren't just names on a blackboard or listed in books. They are up close and personal. The event is, for all purposes, an "in your face" look at how intolerant remarks and attitudes cause pain to others, says Day of Respect coordinator Sharon Froba, who dreamed up the idea four years ago.
Sharon Froba and fellow organizers wear relevant T-shirts of the Day of Respect.
"I call it putting a face on intolerance," says Froba. "I didn't want to do the auditorium thing; I wanted an intimate setting. The nature of the stories people tell are personal and intimate, so they lend themselves to that type of a classroom setting."
Froba, a member of MTA, has herself been a victim of intolerance. "I'm of Assyrian descent, and my parents were immigrants from Iran. As an immigrant kid, I felt it was not okay to be olive-skinned. One day in fourth-grade I was eating lunch and the little girl next to me shrieked at what she called a 'grass sandwich' that was really cilantro. My eyes filled with tears. She wasn't only insulting my sandwich, she was insulting my mother, my father, my culture, my language and my food. I wanted to prevent this type of thing from happening to others."
Mike Aguilera discusses discrimination issues with the class.
The event has spread to include four other Modesto campuses. The first Day of Respect had 65 guest speakers. This year, 118 were scheduled. "When you recruit people to speak, very few say no," says Froba. "Most feel a responsibility to go. At the last minute, they may feel vulnerable and say they just aren't ready."
Because the speakers are not professionals, things do not always go as planned. For example, one of the Muslim speakers emphasized the theological aspects of the religion rather than discussing intolerance, and even defended Osama bin Laden in front of students. That was not predicted or desired, says Froba. "But it provided a teachable moment. We don't just take what happened here today and leave it at that. Everything that happens today provides a lot of fodder for tomorrow's discussions."
The event has not been without controversy. In the past, some district officials objected to having gay and lesbian speakers on hand. "I have a lot of anger about this," says Froba, "because gays and lesbians are some of the people most discriminated against." And many kids criticize others by saying things like, "That's so gay."
Charlie Crane reiterates his concerns about discrimination.
Day of Respect supporters - including teachers and students - successfully fought the school board's efforts to exclude gay and lesbian speakers from the event. Froba says she finds it ironic that "gay speakers were treated with discrimination by the district at an event that was against discrimination. But the district backed down."
"I think the Day of Respect is an incredible program," says Bonnie Baker, whose classroom hosted three speakers. "And Modesto High is the perfect place for it to happen, because the school celebrates diversity, pride and independence. Kids need to be reminded that there are all kinds of people who have suffered, so they can change their behavior toward others. It's so easy for kids to think that it's only about them."
"I think it hits kids in the face when they feel someone else's pain," says Kevin Olson, a journalism/English teacher. "They are stunned into silence. It makes them think about their actions before they say or do something. They begin to realize that careless words and actions can really hurt. This really hits home."
Amber Stime-Kassa talks to students about the difficulties she's experienced as a person living with a disability.
"I think every school should have a Day of Respect," says 11th-grader Heather Frederick. "Modesto High School is the most ethnically diverse school in the district, but students still self-segregate. Everyone still eats lunch with people of the same race. The Day of Respect brings us together. It makes us aware. It wakes us up."
"I think it has changed some of the misconceptions that have been going around the school since Sept. 11," says 11th-grader Steven West. "Because people haven't known where to direct their anger, they say they want to bomb everyone responsible. But we don't know who they are. It could turn into a witch hunt."
The Day of Respect has made a difference on campus, says Froba. "It's hard to measure, because there are no pre-tests and post-tests for this. But there seems to be a different feeling or tone on our campus. I've heard kids say to each other, 'Respect, respect, respect.'"
"One of the most moving incidents happened a few years ago, when we had a speaker with full-blown AIDS," says Froba. "When I told students he was coming, they recoiled in disgust. After he told students how he had been treated, most of them were very moved. Half of the students shook his hand and a fourth hugged him when he left. Nobody ridiculed him; he was treated with the utmost respect."
In an age where testing and accountability reign supreme, important values such as compassion and tolerance may get lost in the shuffle. But merely being educated is not enough in today's world, says Froba, referring to a quote in Haim Ginott's Book, Between Teacher and Child: "I am a survivor of a concentration camp. My eyes saw what no person should witness. Gas chambers built by learned engineers. Children poisoned by educated physicians. Infants killed by trained nurses. Women and babies shot and killed by high school and college graduates. So I'm suspicious of education. My request is: help your students to be human. Your efforts must never produce learned monsters, skilled psychopaths or educated Eichmanns."
"In these turbulent times, the three R's are simply not enough," says Froba. "At Modesto High School we decided to add a fourth R - and that's Respect. Every school can do this. It's cheap because you use people from your own community. It takes time and organization. But it's worth it."
