Fenwick Graduation: 2018 Hometown: La Grange, IL Grade School: St. John’s Lutheran Current School: The University of Wisconsin-Madison Current Major: Animal Science (Pre-Vet)
Summer Internship: I do not have a formal internship through the university this summer, but I work as a groom for a few Argentine polo pros. I gain experience through working with the horses as well as by assisting the vet when the horses need treatment. I am also involved in a biomedical research lab at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. This lab work will extend through my entire undergraduate schooling.
Career aspirations: I aspire to go to go to vet school.
Fenwick achievements/activities: I was a member of the National Honors Society, Tri-M Honors Society, Friar Mentors, was an Illinois State Scholar, a Eucharistic minister and was on the State Team for WYSE. I also ran track for three years and was in choir for four years.
Fenwick teacher who had the most influence on you:Mr. Kleinhans had the most influence on me. I learned a great deal in his physics class, but most of all I learned from his example as a role model, teacher, mentor and WYSE coach. Some of my favorite class memories are from his “feel good Fridays” where he connected life experience to prayer and the importance of being a genuine person while working hard and enjoying life.
Fenwick class that had the most influence on you: AP Biology with Mr. Wnek was one of my many favorite classes. Mr. Wnek is a fantastic teacher, and what I learned set me up for success in college biology and other lab work.
Fenwick experience you would like to live again: I would relive the whole experience. From classes, sports and clubs, to friends, I had a great experience at Fenwick. I am extremely grateful for the community and for the way it set me up for success in college and in the future. I am thankful for the relationships I formed with teachers and the way that impacted my growth as a student and as a person.
A
Fenwick alumna’s post-Mother’s Day reflection on how being a good neighbor
means loving your neighbor as yourself.
By Quiwana Reed Bell ’96
The author’s mother, Jacqueline Reed, founded the Westside Health Authority in 1990.
I was born the snowy winter of 1979 in Maywood, Illinois, to Jacqueline and Ronald Reed. My father, Ronnie, was born and raised a tough bi-racial kid from the west side of Chicago, near Pulaski and Roosevelt. My father never knew his mother.
My mother, Jackie, was born and raised in 1950 Natchez, Mississippi — a famous plantation town near the ports where slave-produced cotton and sugar cane was once exported. She is the oldest of seven children and grew up on family-owned land that also included homes for her grandparents (both paternal and maternal), aunts, uncles, cousins and neighbors, who were like family. Her father, Oliver, was a handyman and janitor with a stuttering problem and a heart of gold; and her mother, Josephine, was a stern yet dignified seamstress who also worked for more than 20 years at the pecan factory. Her family of nine lived in a two-bedroom/one-bathroom house. They went to church on Sundays. They socialized and cared for each other. They didn’t have much but never felt poor. They were a community. And they were happy.
Natchez, Mississippi, is about 850 miles south of Chicago.
My mother left Mississippi after high school, after
having a child out of wedlock with a man who was unwilling to marry. She came
to Chicago in the summer of 1969 to visit her Aunt Mavis, her dad’s older
sister. She lived on 13th and Pulaski in a brick two-flat building
on the west side of Chicago. Aunt Mavis had 10 children of her own with her entrepreneur
husband Ed, who ran an auto mechanic shop. Although they owned the entire
building, they lived in only one of the units which had two bedrooms, one
bathroom and a back sun porch. Ten kids, two parents and now visiting cousin
Jackie from Mississippi all in one unit. The block was lively. People sat on
their stoops in the evenings for entertainment. The kids would play loudly up
and down the streets. Neighbors knew
each other; supported each other; fought and gossiped about each other. It was
a family. A community. And they were happy.
During her summer-time visit, Jackie met Ronnie, who
was a friend of her cousin Roger. They quickly fell in love and married only
three months after meeting on February 14, 1970. Jackie never returned to Mississippi to live.
In Mississippi still was her infant son, Derek. He had stayed with her family while
she traveled to Chicago. This was not a big deal. The family was seen as a
unit. Jackie’s son Derek was not her property, but a member of a larger family
unit where everyone contributes, supports and belongs.
Sharing
brings happiness
This was a sentiment taught to my mother very early on in her childhood. She was born in segregated Mississippi where black people were still forced to live separately. This separation, however, was not all bad. Black communities had viable businesses — bakeries, dentist offices and insurance companies. It was a community where people looked out for one another. I would often hear stories of how if one person on the block killed a cow, then everyone on the block would have meat. Similarly, during my summers that I spent in Natchez, MS, I would often hear my grandmother say, “Go run this pot of greens that I picked and cooked over to Ms. ‘So and So’s house.” It was natural to share. It was natural to help others. It brought happiness. My mom never felt poor. She didn’t have a lot of fear and anxiety. Her family lived in peace. Even amid all the stuff going on in the world — they were shielded in “their community.”
A riverboat lights up the Mighty Mississippi near Vidalia, Louisiana, and Natchez, Mississippi.
Black folks have always had to be communal with each
other in America in order to survive:
We had to help each other as we were packed
like cargo at the bottom of slave ships.
We had to help each other as we sang songs
together in the long days in the hot cotton fields in Mississippi.
We had to help each other as we navigated
our way through lynching and rape and beatings.
We had to support each other in demonstrations
and boycotts fighting for equal rights.
We had to support each other through
redlining/housing and employment discrimination.
Today we still have to support each other through families being ripped apart as a result of mass incarceration, disinvestment of neighborhood schools and economic opportunity, and the resulting crime that plagues our communities.
