It's graduation day at my place of employment. From my office, I can hear the cheers from the crowd at the smaller ceremony taking place in my building. In another hour, I'll go to the first of 5 ceremonies for students in my program. While I am happy for and proud of all of them, I'm looking forward to one ceremony in particular.

Five years ago, I started my old job working as a college counselor in a Baltimore City high school. That was one of the toughest years of my life. The job itself offered little training, so besides a genuine desire to help the students, I was mainly stumbling through the year, hoping that I could figure out how the whole college access process worked before screwing up some kid's life. Of course I'd gone through the process myself, but I had known for years I was going to go to college, as were most of my friends. It was a whole different ballgame for my students, who generally didn't even begin to consider college a viable option until 11th grade. Throw in a few more obstacles like a lack of parental support, a terrible education, and no money to pay for college, well, let's just say I admired my students more than I could possibly even begin to say.

I'm sure during my first year in that job dozens of kids fell through the cracks. I try not to think too much about that because I know that I did the best that I could and in reality, every year there were kids who fell through the cracks. While I'd like to be super-woman and help all of them, it's just not possible. There was one kid though, who made my job easy that year. Jake (obviously not his real name) didn't seem to care that I didn't know what the hell I was doing. My title said, "college" and he made it his mission to visit me on a daily basis because come hell or high water, he was going to college. He asked endless questions, he took the SAT five times (and ended up with one of the highest scores in the school), he completed every application early (which, if you know anything about getting kids in Baltimore to turn things in on time, you know this was an achievement worth mentioning), and once they were mailed off, he called the admissions offices on a weekly basis to check-in. I remember laughing so hard when I heard him talking to one of the representatives like they were old friends: "Hey Amanda, it's Jake, how're you doing? Good, that's great, and your new baby?". Jake was smooth like that.

In the fall, I was asked to identify five students to compete for a huge award--a full 4 year scholarship (tuition, room & board) to one of the state's largest schools. These students didn't have to be at the top of their class, but had to show a commitment to their education despite adverse life circumstances. Jake was the first student to pop into my mind. Over the course of the year, I'd come to learn that under his smiling exterior, he'd faced some tough challenges. When he was 15, his best friend was gunned down on a basketball court while they were playing a pick-up game. Only two years later, just before I met Jake, another close friend was attacked on the street, dragged into a car, and was found 3 days later, beaten to death in a back alley in West Baltimore. His death was assumed to be drug related and Jake admitted to knowing his friend had been walking down the wrong path.

For a lot of kids in this position, it's easier to let the grief overwhelm you, which is dangerous for those living in Baltimore. Once a kid starts to shut down, angry at the world for what happened to his friends, it's easy to watch things like school and your future become distant memories. I don't know the exact statistic, but I've worked with countless kids in Baltimore, mostly boys, who were certain they'd never live to see age 21. They figured they'd either be dead or in jail, and unfortuantely, many of them are. I've watched too many kids slip away under the strain of the inner city, turning into a shell of the children they once were. It's heartbreaking.

Which is why Jake's story is so important. I nominated him along with four other students for the award, and he won. He was one of the few kids who made a very clear and very determined decision to envision his life beyond age 21, and he thought going to college was the way to do it. Four years later, I work for that same program that awarded Jake his full scholarship, and today, at 4:00, I'm going to watch him graduate with a degree from one of the most prestigious schools in the country. Then I will congratulate him and wish him well as he moves to Tampa, where he got a job with Black and Decker making more money than I do. I'm so darn proud of that boy, I could cry (and I probably will).

For every one of those students who fell through the cracks, there are the ones like Jake, who refused to fall and who refused to be ignored. I wish everyone could know a kid like Jake.