A teen’s transformation: How community service changed one boy's path | Opinion

His name was Gustavo, he was 13 — and he was in big trouble.

Gustavo’s story began when I was director of Middle School Ministries at Northminster Presbyterian Church in Salinas. The congregation had built a huge new ministry center complete with a regulation gym, two youth rooms, a commercial kitchen and dining room, multiple classrooms and a 30- by 60-foot room devoted to and equipped for my after-school program.

At several Tuesday morning staff meetings, the subject of graffiti tagging in the neighborhood was discussed. The head of staff said that we probably had nothing to worry about because gangs usually avoid religious institutions.

And then our beautiful new building was tagged — several times. Charlie, our custodian, painted over the graffiti, but it routinely reappeared. Our associate pastor, Max, came up with a plan: They would park Charlie’s van with the usual tagging site visible through the back window. Max and Charlie would run a stakeout from Charlie’s van.

Max went shopping for snacks, brought some comfortable padding, and a few minutes before the middle school across the street released their students, Max and Charlie climbed into the van and got comfortable for what they expected to be a prolonged wait.

The snacks went uneaten and the padding wasn’t necessary. Within ten minutes, the stakeout bore fruit: Several boys came across the street, walked around the corner of the building and got out their spray cans. From his position in the van, Max called the police who were on standby, several squad cars appeared with lights flashing, and a very surprised Gustavo was arrested along with several of his co-conspirators.

I met Gustavo several days later when he and his parents came to my office after adjudication required him and one other boy to apprentice themselves to me to pay for the damage done to our building. I readily agreed — it seemed a logical consequence for their actions, and assigned them to work in my after-school program.

Gustavo checked in with me the next day immediately after his classes. He was soft-spoken, polite and motivated. We talked about what I expected from him; he listened and agreed without hesitation.

Nothing further was ever said about the reason he was a part of the program, but of the 20 elementary age children who attended several afternoons a week, the sixth-grade boys were curious. Gustavo was older than they were, but he happily spent time with them. He taught them how to play pool and seemed too cool. Why was he here?

One afternoon, I noticed Gustavo in close conversation with these boys who were clustered around him. Without calling attention, I positioned myself so that I could hear what was being said.

“It wasn’t worth it,” Gustavo said. “We thought we were doing something cool, but when we got caught, I was scared, man. And I knew my mom and dad would be really sad. My mom cried for days. I felt bad that I was the one who did that to her. If you ever decide to do something to be cool, remember what I’ve said. It’s not worth it.”

What Gustavo did in that one conversation spoke volumes more than I could ever have accomplished with these boys. They listened to every word and then seemed even more impressed with Gustavo.

Gustavo attended every session. He was always on time and never needed direction from me. His heart was obviously engaged in what he was doing. Without hesitation, he invested all of himself in the time he spent with the kids.

After several months, Gustavo came and told me that he had satisfied what the court had mandated, and he had received his date to appear in juvenile court to document completion of the judgment against him.

As we talked, I asked Gustavo if he would like me to attend his court date with him. He was delighted. I told him that he should ask his parents and then let me know if they agreed.

The juvenile courtroom was packed. Kids, their parents and other interested parties squirmed, coughed, shifted and waited. Case after case was called. Finally, it was Gustavo’s turn. I approached the bench with him with written documentation of Gustavo’s hours worked. I also was proud to commend Gustavo publicly for his affable, can-do attitude.

Looking down at Gustavo’s file and then back up at us, the judge spoke: “Misdeeds acknowledged. Sentence pronounced. Judgment satisfied. Case dismissed.”

I hugged Gustavo. His mother cried and his father wiped his eyes.

The next boy called was the one who received the same sentence as Gustavo. I had forgotten about him. He immediately spoke up, “I tried. I couldn’t find that lady, and so I gave up. It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t find her.”

And then the judge spoke. “Excuses don’t work here, young man. The other boy was able to satisfy his judgment. You are immediately remanded to juvenile hall to serve your sentence there.”

I never saw Gustavo again, but I didn’t worry about him. The Christian scriptures say, “As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.” Maybe this is even more true of a 13-year-old boy who is in big trouble.

Gustavo stubbed his toe like most of us do. But teenage boys, it turns out, are full of surprises. The injury was momentary, but the heart that Gustavo displayed was timeless.

Bunny Stevens lives in Modesto, her hometown, and has served on The Modesto Bee Community Advisory Board. She is the opening courtesy clerk at the Safeway supermarket on McHenry Avenue and an ordained minister in the Universal Life Church. Reach her at BunnyinModesto@gmail.com