By:Anthony Rifilato
"I like a lot of different things," Gonzalez said, noting Bard Spiral Galaxies. "It's full of giant stars that are ready to explode. That's why they're so bright."
He gets excited when he takes his bulky collection of Japanese anime trading cards from his uniform pocket. His eyes grow wide when he explains how he loves Dominican music now, because up until recently he couldn't stand it. There's a feeling of apprehension when he has to speak Spanish in public because he's a bit shy.
"At home, I'm OK with it," he said.
Gonzalez, who's from Baldwin, is one of 25 children from economically disadvantaged or working-poor families who have come to De La Salle, at Our Lady of Holy Redeemer, in the hope of getting a good education as well as a strong moral upbringing.
The school opened two years ago, when the De La Salle brothers, who for decades operated the La Salle Center in Oakdale before it shut its doors in 2002, sought to continue the La Sallian tradition. That tradition has its roots in the teachings of St. John Baptist De La Salle, a 17th century French saint who founded a free school for the children of the poor.
"We told ourselves, what we really should be looking at is Catholic schools for people who can't afford them," said Brother Thomas Casey, the school's executive director, who explained that the facility is the only one of its kind on Long Island. (There are La Sallian schools scattered across the country.)
Casey explained that the school relies on funding and independent benefactors -- Tiffany's raised close to $85,000 last year -- not only to operate, but to keep tuition low, at $60 a month. In May, actress Carol Channing will perform for a La Salle benefit at Molloy College.
"People have been extraordinarily generous," said Casey. "I think people realize the power inherent in a faith-based and quality education."
De La Salle is housed at Our Holy Redeemer in Freeport, renting space alongside a Montessori School. Inside, the walls are festooned with the stations of the cross, student projects, words of the week, and motivational reminders such as "Be Yourself," "Try" and "We express ourselves." Several portraits and renderings of Christ as a black man, a white man and everything in between are hung in the classrooms.
Most of the students are Hispanic, African-American or other nationalities, and most come from schools or environments in which they receive sub-par educations. "They were behind a couple of years when we took them on," said Principal Clifford Wallace. "It's our obligation to bring them up."
Casey said that the students were at risk of reaching adulthood with a lack of skills and self-esteem, not to mention being sidetracked by the allure of gangs and crime. The school's mission is to change all that, he said, by not only providing a curriculum that he described as surpassing guidelines set by the New York State Board of Regents, but by also working closely with parents and guardians.
"We say up front to them that this is a partnership," said Casey. "It sends a message them that their child's education is important."
Soon, the school hopes to expand from grades five and six to fifth through eighth. It has grown from 12 students in 2002 to 25 fifth- and sixth-graders this year. Sixteen are from Freeport, four from Roosevelt, three from Hempstead, one from Uniondale and one, Gonzalez, from Baldwin.
When Gonzalez attended Archer Street Elementary School in Freeport, he said, it was distracting for him, which prompted his parents, who hail from the Dominican Republic, to send him to De La Salle because they thought he would benefit by attending a Catholic school with an emphasis on small class sizes.
At the school's grand opening, Gonzalez was given a large, framed photo of De La Salle students who graduated in the 1970s, which Casey said was meant to symbolize a passing of the torch.
"They gave it to me because I was 'Gentleman of the Week' for three weeks straight," Justin said.
Still, the sixth-grader sometimes daydreams in Wallace's social studies class, and his classwork and projects are late occasionally. He stares at the posters on the wall while Wallace discusses the caste system in ancient times. Sometimes, he said, social studies can be a bit boring.
"If you put your mind to it, it's fun," said the cherub-faced, precocious student, who dreams of becoming an engineer when he grows up.
But in a recent class, his classmates, who were inquiring about reincarnation, quickly noticed that Gonzalez wasn't paying attention. "Mr. Wallace, I feel Justin has turned into a zombie, because he keeps looking at the posters," a classmate joked, jolting Gonzalez out of his reverie and back to reality.
What doesn't bore Justin is science, and he also can't wait to learn calculus. His favorite book is "Swamp Angel," a strange tale about a 50-foot-tall teenage girl who ends world hunger with pancakes. "She walked to Idaho," he said, eyes beaming. "When she was walking through the swamp in her blue dress, she looked like an angel. I read that book and never get tired of it."
In the hallway, the students' poems line the walls, their own takes on Walt Whitman's "Miracles." "Every simple thing can be a miracle," reads Gonzalez's last line. "All you have to do is look for it."
Like some other students, Justin got an A.
