My story begins when my mom was 15-years-old. She was raped by my father and that is how I was conceived.

Soon after I was born my mom was diagnosed with postpartum depression.

When I was two weeks old I had trouble breathing and my mom found out I had a tumor in my throat. I had to have surgery to remove the tumor and then was sent home to recover. Not too long after I went home somehow when I was in my crib all my stiches in my neck ripped open. I am thankful my grandmother came to check in on my mother and I because when she did my mother was standing there watching me bleed out and not doing anything to stop it.

I believe my mother was so still so angry and resented me because I reminded her of her rape. My grandma ended up picking me up and holding my head to my body and getting me to the hospital in time.

This was my beginning.

When I was about 3-years-old my mom married my stepdad. They had my little sister and then my little brother.

From as early as I can remember my parents highly favored my siblings.

I remember one time we were back to school shopping at the flea market when I saw the coolest pair of high top Vans I had ever seen. They had checkers and so many bright colors. I had never seen shoes like that before. I picked them up and asked my stepdad if I could have them.

He looked me straight in my eyes and said no, yet he turned to my younger sister and said, “Would you like these shoes?”

It broke my heart so much because I could feel him using my excitement for the shoes against me. It was just another way to make me feel like I wasn’t as important as my brother and sister.

Drugs are another issue that plagues family for as long as I can remember. My mom’s pregnancy with my sister did not even stop her or my stepdad from consuming drugs day in and day out.

His drug of choice was heroin and my mother’s was meth.

The majority of my childhood was spent watching my parents do and sell drugs.

My stepdad became very violent and would beat on me and my mother on a regular basis.

I remember one time he threw my mother through our glass French doors. She landed on the back porch and in the process her two front teeth were knocked out. I saw all of this happen right in front of me. After her teeth were knocked out he would make fun of her all the time.

She became very depressed and tried killing herself in our bathroom. She locked the door and broke the mirror. She eventually let me in and I saw my mother bleeding from her wrists in our bathtub. Somehow my grandparents showed up and were able to get her help and she lived.

You might be thinking, ‘Where was Child Protective Services?”.

They were there actually. My family went through seven CPS cases while I was growing up.

It was basically hopeless though because my parents coached us on what to say to the CPS workers. They would threaten us with beatings if we didn’t say exactly what we were supposed to.

My parents also had us pee in their drug test cups so they wouldn’t be caught testing positive for drugs.

One time we were removed from our house and went to go live with my stepdad’s mother. She was mean herself and also resented me for not being her son’s child. Life with her was just about as difficult as life at home.

The violence between my mom and my stepdad came to a head one day when he showed up unexpectedly at our doorstep. He had been in jail and had gotten out and not told anyone.

He kidnapped my mother that day.

I called my grandparents and they came and got us kids and we went looking for them. Somehow, by the grace of God, we found them at an old motel on the Westside. My grandfather and uncle and the hotel manager broke down the door and we found my mother duct tapped to a chair. I remember the duct tape being so tight her skin was budging out. She was sweating and crying, but we couldn’t understand her because her mouth was duct tapped shut.

He was arrested and sent back to jail.

I wanted a better life, but things kept going downhill.

You see, all of this was happening while I was going to school or trying to go to school.

On the days I didn’t have to stay home and take care of my baby brother because my parents wouldn’t wake up, I would try attend school, but I always had to remember to cover up my bruises and be cautious to avoid questions from adults.

One day I ended up getting arrested and spend three weeks in juvenile detention. One day a school a girl who had been picking on me called me a bastard. See I didn’t know what that meant until a friend told me.

I became so angry. This girl knew my mother had been raped. I got into a physical fight with this girl and caused her to need a few stiches. I guess all my anger just came out that day because I had never been in a fight before.

I was later arrested and found guilty and sentenced to three weeks in a juvenile detention center. However, there was a good thing that came from this bad situation.

I told my entire story.

I told her everything, all the stories I just told you plus so many more I don’t have the time to tell today. This helped me get out of my parents’ house for good. This started the process of me being adopted by my grandparents.

In a way I am thankful for that experience because I was finally able to get help.

I went to two high schools before I found San Antonio CAN. I never felt like I fit it. When I was there I would miss my siblings and worry if they were okay. After the kidnapping incident my grandparents decided to legally adopt me.

I remember I was in class one time and shared with the class that I might be able to go to college since I was adopted I could get grants. The adult in the room asked me in front of the whole class, “Why are you being adopted? You/re parents don’t want you?”

It was like a punch in the gut.

Immediately after finding the Can Academies I didn’t feel lonely. For the first time, my teachers understood and helped me. They made me feel wanted. If it weren’t for them I don’t think I would be graduating. I finally found find the first place where I truly belonged.

My advisor Ms. Simmons and my English teacher Ms. Hatfield made me feel like they understood where I had been and that I was wanted.

If it weren’t for San Antonio CAN I don’t think I would be graduating from high school.

Now my life is different.

Although my mom will always be my mom and I can’t change the past, I can choose what I do moving forward.

My goals are to join the Army after high school and eventually earn a degree in education and come back to teach at the CAN. I want to help students like me find their purpose.

And as for me, I was adopted by my grandparents. My grandparents love me very much. I have a boyfriend who helped me get in my journey to get off meth and I found a great church that I consider a second home.

I am thankful for the Can, my grandparents, my boyfriend and my church. I am also thankful for those of you reading this today.

I found find the first place I felt I truly belonged, San Antonio Can.

I know now that I life of love, faith and hope to look forward to. Thank you for believing in me.

Christian and his father have known many closed doors.

After a medical discharge from the US Army, Christian’s father began a heating and air conditioning business. For a time, the business grew, and things were going well.

Christian’s mother, however, had developed a worsening drug habit. His worried father often woke up in the middle of the night, fearing he would find her dead from an overdose.

“My father,” Christian says, “gave my mother an ultimatum: it was either us or the drugs.

“She chose the drugs,” he remembers.

When his mother made her choice, Christian was all of eight.

A month after she left, Christian’s father encouraged him to visit her at his grandmother’s home, where his mother had been staying. Though deeply disappointed in her and not wanting to see her, he went. He spotted the family vehicle in the driveway of his grandmother’s house, but when he knocked on the door, no one answered. Then, he spotted a window curtain move and plainly heard his mother’s voice: “Don’t open the door.”

Shortly thereafter, Christian’s father got sick with pancreatitis. He was weakened and unable to work. Christian had to learn to care for his father, cooking small meals and helping his father to and from the restroom.

Christian’s mother, meanwhile, gutted the family’s savings account.

With no savings and no income, Christian and his father eventually saw the electricity cut and the water shut off. Baths were taken using gallons of water purchased from the store, meals were cooked by the grill, and clothes went unwashed. Christian’s homework had to be done while the sun was still up. He was bullied at school for his unwashed clothes.

Thanks to the generosity of their local Catholic church, Christian and his father received enough money to turn the electricity and water back on. His father could pay for the medical treatment he needed. Christian and his father felt stronger in their faith, and they continued to enjoy cooking out on the grill—which had become a bonding activity for them.

During his junior year, Christian was doing well. He was keeping up with his studies and excelling in a welding program. However, their home of many years was falling apart. The landlord, unwilling to cover the costs of repairs prescribed by the housing authority, locked Christian and his father out of their home. They could not afford the deposit on a new place to live.

For a month, Christian and his father were homeless, and they slept behind dumpsters. When they did find an apartment, it was in bad shape. Need forced them to take it.

Two more obstacles stood in their way. Following multiple ignored requests to address the apartment’s safety hazards, Christian’s father tripped on the ripped carpet in their living room, injuring his knees and losing some mobility.

“I’d had enough,” Christian recalls. He felt that, because of his family’s limited resources, they were being overlooked. Motivated to right a wrong, he made a close study of the lease: the landlord was in violation of the Fair and Equal Housing Act. Christian took action. Thanks to his advocacy with the housing authority, Christian’s father’s medical expenses were covered by the property management’s insurance provider, and a state inspector made an inspection of the entire property.

Still there was the second obstacle. Because he had missed too many days of school during their month of homelessness, Christian faced repeating his junior year. It was a blow.

Friends told him about Texans Can Academies and its accelerated curriculum recovery. When he and his father came for enrollment, however, they thought they had encountered yet another closed door—the school required uniforms, and he and his father could not afford it. They prepared to walk away.

Thanks to the school’s Whole Student program, however, Christian’s uniform was paid for. The same day, the school’s principal met with Christian and his father and took them to lunch in the cafeteria.

“That meant a lot to us,” Christian says.

The very next day, Christian was able to start school and get back on track.

From then on, Christian experienced the school’s generous welcome. When food was scarce, he availed himself of the school’s food pantry, and, in the classroom, he found the academic support he needed.

“The staff at Can have been great. They have shown me so much hospitality. My history teacher, Mr. Rodriguez, helped and encouraged me. He was very straightforward and set high expectations for me.”

“Because of the Can, I didn’t have to repeat my junior year,” he says.

Christian graduated from Texans Can in June 2019, and, taking advantage of the GI Bill and a scholarship made possible by proceeds from an annual community luncheon, has enrolled in St. Philip’s College’s pre-law program.

Christian and his father continue to enjoy cooking out on the grill together, and, with faith in God, they both look forward to a future of open doors.

“I am thankful the Can was there for me. I know I have a lot more to give, and a lot more to achieve.”

Sean Fulayter’s story is both humbling and inspiring. Sean comes to us from Michigan after overcoming unbelievable obstacles. He was born in Flint, Michigan on July 21, 1993 and is 17 years-old. Sean’s parents split before he was born and he never knew his father. He lived with his mother and grandmother for most of his childhood. At the age of six, his mother got remarried to a man in the U.S. Navy who was both mentally and physically abusive to his family. Sean’s mother suffered from mental illness and after the birth of Sean’s second sibling she also began using hard drugs to escape the abuse. At the age of 11 Sean began taking care of both siblings. One was a newborn infant and the other a toddler. He cooked meals for them and made sure they had everything they needed. Because of this responsibility, Sean missed many days of school but somehow managed to keep very good grades.

Sean moved back and forth between his mother’s house and his grandmother’s house most of his childhood because of family problems. He says, “I never really had a home to call my own.” At the age of 13 Sean was kicked out of his mother’s house and lived on the streets for 30 days. He slept near generators behind a store to keep warm during the cold Michigan winter and got food wherever he could.

Cold, hungry and weak, Sean walked into the city library and ‘Googled’ his father, whom he had never met. He found the address and walked 14 miles with two bags of his belongings to his father’s home. He lived there for a few months before living with his father became unbearable.

Sean went back to his grandmother’s house. When he was 15 his uncle invited Sean to visit him in Austin, Texas. Coming from a family with generations of gang activity, Sean wanted to make a better life for himself and his siblings, whom he dearly loved. When he learned a friend was killed by a rival gang in Flint, Sean was advised by his friends to not come back to Michigan.

Sean then moved to San Antonio to live with another uncle. “My uncle took me in as his own son and he is the only father figure I’ve ever known. He taught me how to respect women, how to protect myself and how to talk to people. He taught me everything about life”, said Sean. Living with his Uncle Steven, Sean enrolled in a Southside San Antonio public high school as a freshman and started making bad grades, skipping school and even getting involved in fights.

After his freshman year he heard about San Antonio Can! High School from a friend. His Aunt brought him to the Can! for orientation and helped pave his future. Sean was 16 when he started at the Can! as a sophomore. Since enrolling Sean attends school full-time while working two jobs; one in landscaping and one at a restaurant. He even attended summer school to gain credits faster. Sean says, “The Can! has helped me more than anything. I can’t explain how much.”

He realized his dream to join the U.S. Army when he was sworn in September 24, 2010. Sean hopes to make a career in the Army as combat medic. Sean attends a church youth group meeting every Tuesday where he says “we pray for our families and pray for forgiveness.”

Despite enormous obstacles and unconscionable circumstances Sean will graduate from San Antonio Can! High School on January 21, 2011. He hopes to soon be able to adopt his siblings and do for them what his Uncle Steve did for him. Sean thanks his Uncle Steve and Aunt Sue Ann for treating him like a son and saving his life. 

“My uncle took me in as his own son and he is the only father figure I’ve ever known. He taught me how to respect women, how to protect myself and how to talk to people. He taught me everything about life”, said Sean. Living with his Uncle Steven, Sean enrolled in a Southside San Antonio public high school as a freshman and started making bad grades, skipping school and even getting involved in fights. After his freshman year he heard about San Antonio Can! High School from a friend. His Aunt brought him to the Can! for orientation and helped pave his future. Sean was 16 when he started at the Can! as a sophomore. Since enrolling Sean attends school full-time while working two jobs; one in landscaping and one at a restaurant. He even attended summer school to gain credits faster. Sean says, “The Can! has helped me more than anything. I can’t explain how much.” He realized his dream to join the U.S. Army when he was sworn in September 24, 2010. Sean hopes to make a career in the Army as combat medic. Sean attends a church youth group meeting every Tuesday where he says “we pray for our families and pray for forgiveness. Despite enormous obstacles and unconscionable circumstances Sean will graduate from San Antonio Can! High School on January 21, 2011. He hopes to soon be able to adopt his siblings and do for them what his Uncle Steve did for him. Sean thanks his Uncle Steve and Aunt Sue Ann for treating him like a son and saving his life.

Last Friday at a seafood buffet in Washington D.C. I got a phone call. It was from a publicist for my school, Texans Can! Academy at Carrollton-Farmers Branch. Over the past week, I had been blogging about my experiences at the Stephen Tyrone Johns Summer Youth Leadership Program at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in the nation’s capital. 

She told me that she had read my blogs and wanted me to write an autobiographical article. It was like a dream, I was happy enough having my blogs published on the internet. Now I'm going to have my work published in a real newspaper. Although I may have procrastinated, I believe I do my best work in the clutch. So here is my story. 

Born a healthy seven pounds, six ounces on the morning of September 6, 1991. I came into the world with a loving family, and a wonderful community to help raise me. My parents were both deaf, and as you can imagine, this can make things difficult when it comes to communication. Luckily, I learned sign language at a young age. When I was only seven or eight months old, I learned some simple signs from my parents and grandparents. I can’t imagine how exciting it must have been for my parents to communicate with their hearing child. 

As I grew older, my knowledge of sign language gained momentum and grew like a snowball tumbling down a powdery, snow-blanketed hill. I was a bright child, and drank in knowledge like a dry sponge. Even though I knew sign language, there were still communication issues. My hard-of-hearing mother could speak, but had a speech impediment. When you cannot hear your own voice clearly, it’s hard to correct your speech. My favorite anecdote illustrating this happened when I was 4. I remember my mother was cleaning my ears. When I asked what was in them she replied “earwax.” Because of my mother's speech impediment I heard her say “ear rats.” From then until I was six I believed that there were rats in my ears. 

Reading and spelling came easy to me, so if there was a word in ASL I didn't know, I could always spell it out. This helped me a lot in school. I was proud of my ability to spell and write, but school often bored me. I did well on tests, projects, and other assessments, but rarely turned in homework. People always told me that I was smart, but needed to apply myself more. Doubting my own intelligence, I thought that’s what they told everyone. I still loved reading, writing, and learning, just not school. 

I learned a lot about life and the world from my parents and would never trade them or their disability for anything. I have them to thank for my concern for others and my ability to empathize. They are very caring individuals who would do anything to ensure the well being of those around them. I inherited this skill from mom and dad, and it is part of the reason I can convey and understand others’ emotions so naturally. I am fond of telling people that sign language is body language’s most extreme and thorough manifestation. To communicate what the hearing can with tone and pitch, the deaf communicate so much more emotion in their facial expressions and movements. 

Because of their lack of hearing, they have to be so much more attentive to non-verbal cues than the hearing , and growing up in that kind of environment allowed me to more readily be able to pick up on those things. Growing up, religion was a big part of my life. As a child, I served as an altar boy and sang in the choir. Although I liked being a part of the church, and the praises I got from my family and church community, I think it was too much responsibility at a young age. I remember how easily I could be distracted during choir practice. My eyes would drift from the sheet music as I thought about how much fun I could have had I skipped practice that day. I stopped going to choir practice, and eventually church altogether. This is when I entered the somewhat rebellious stage most do. I started hanging out with the wrong crowd, smoking cigarettes, and skipping school. This only got worse when my parents separated. As in many situations where a parent leaves, I could not help but blame myself. Between my brother and me, I took mom and dad’s separation the hardest. I started smoking pot and drinking, probably to cope with my mother’s departure. This in turn had a more dramatic effect on my school attendance. I normally passed most of my classes, but because of my poor attendance my high school career was badly derailed; I only had two credits earned with twelve weeks left in the last semester of my sophomore year. I would have dropped out, but thanks to my counselor at Thomas Jefferson High School, I was given a second chance. 

She told me that I could either go through truancy court again, or go to a charter school in Farmers Branch called Texans Can! Academy. Realizing this was my best option, and only chance to graduate on time, I jumped on the opportunity and straightened up my act. My attendance improved greatly and despite a few bumps along the way I am now officially a senior. I should be graduating in the next year and I'm ready to start college soon. I have not found the right university for me yet, but I do know that I want to become a deaf education teacher. Jesse Jackson said once, “The problem is not that the students cannot hear, the problem is that the teachers do not listen.” I feel like Reverend Jackson was speaking directly to me; demanding I become a teacher to help shape young minds, especially those of the deaf. I have the advantage of being a hearing person in possession of a special understanding and deep relationship with the deaf community cultivated in my upbringing. I can relate and communicate with students, and have the caring attitude it takes to empathize with them. I have learned so much from the deaf community and the only thing I would like more than to give back to that community is to teach it's most important lessons and skills to the hearing. Teaching has always been that option that sat patiently in the back of my mind, a plan-B where I knew I could succeed but not necessarily what I wanted in a career. I have only recently discovered it as my true vocation. I have always enjoyed educating others and felt I was very informative. I have also had many inspiring teachers over the years. Foremost among them is my current History and Journalism teacher, Mr. Aubrey Leveridge. I have only known Mr. Leveridge for a year; 2009-2010 was his first year teaching and even though this is only his second year as a teacher at Texans Can!, I have adopted him as my official role model. I can only hope that I can become half the teacher he is. 

Teaching is more than my calling, it is also my familiy’s legacy. My grandmother taught science, and my aunt teaches special education. I come from a long line of educators. A gift has been given to me in my ability to sign and understand the deaf. Manifested in my heart is a great concern for others and I have seen firsthand the mistreatment of deaf people; ranging from staring and poor service in stores and restaurants to great difficulty finding work. I have had a terribly difficult time finding a job this summer probably because of the economy and am very well aware how difficult it is for my father. I remember reluctantly tagging along on job interviews with him because there was no interpreter. He has been out of work for some time now, and I hope he can find the right job. For the most part, the treatment of those with hearing disabilities has been sub-par from my perspective. It is my goal to change that, if only for a few people. My recent trip to and participation in the Steven Tyrone Johns Summer Youth Leadership Prgram at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in D.C. has inspired me to found a deaf awareness group. I plan to teach my peers sign language and the progression and treatment of deaf people throughout history. Also, there will be events where hearing and deaf students can come together and just have some good old fashioned fun like when my parents would take me to the deaf chat at Starbucks every Saturday. This is where I got the idea for the awareness group. 

I often reminisce about attending and fondly remember the fascinating stories I heard. Watching a deaf person tell a story is a very engaging experience. You can almost feel the same emotions they did at the time. I want to show others the attentive and caring nature of the deaf community. Hopefully through education and sympathy, I can make a difference for deaf people. I have many aspirations for the future including starting a deaf friendly non-profit organization that will offer employment opportunities and aid for the deaf and the hearing alike. I want to make a contribution to society in the best way possible, and that is through action. In the community of Holocaust museums and historians, this is called being an “upstander” instead of a bystander. In order to make a change, you must actively pursue life and never stop until you achieve your goals. 

I have been through a lot over the years. I was evicted from my childhood home, and again from my first apartment. My parents split up, and my mom moved away, but I never let those things get me down. I have been inspired by my own hardships, and the tribulations of those around me to better myself and set the stage for a bright future. I just hope that my story will communicate this inspiration to others. It is the nature of man to struggle, and without it we are nothing. There would be no life lessons or morality, and the world would be a boring place. I have lived my life to the best of my ability, and I have no regrets. I may be young, but I have learned a lot about life through experiences. I always try to remember Otto von Bismarck’s admonition, saying fools learn from their own experience while wise men learn from the experience of others.I want to live this adage as an example to people in a manner suggesting they learn from my mistakes and build on my successes. 

Despite my shortcomings and setbacks and because of the man they have made me, you are reading my words, but they could be someone else’s. I am not the only young person to have suffered in life and then grown from it; I am not the only young person with a voice; and I am especially not the first young person to want to change the world, yet here are my words. For those of you who have not suffered and grown, for those of you who have not found your voice, and for those of you who have never wanted to change the world; you will. You will suffer and you will grow; your voice is there, but you have to hear it before anyone else can; and when you are ready to change the world, let me know because I will help you if you help me. 

For those of you who have done all these things already, remember what it was like to be me and help me help you. In closing, I would like to thank my family, my teachers, my community, and anyone who helped raise me along the way. For they are my guides and I the true maker of my destiny. They inspire me to better myself, and I want to make them proud.

AJ Clemons is an Austin Can! student who will walk across the stage at the upcoming June Graduation Ceremony. “I was an A-B honor roll student throughout elementary and middle school. When I started high school the word “school” was not in my vocabulary. I was skipping class and I got into everything but the books. After a while I began to see myself stuck in the same pattern. The very same people I went to middle school with were walking the stage and I was left behind. I had to think long and hard about what I was going to do with my life. That was when I was introduced to Austin Can! Academy, where second chances are given. Most people in my shoes would have given up and dropped out but here I stand getting my high school diploma at the age of 22. None of my sisters or brothers graduated from high school. I am grateful and very happy to be the first. See, I know now, that high school is where adulthood begins. Austin Can! is where I learned new things, met great people, and began my new life. Now, I’m ready for college and look forward to a career in music and business management.”