STEVEN PORTILLO
11th GRADE
HOME
It was just like that: a lifetime of experiences, memories,
life essentials, all packed in a 17-year-old-boy still trying
to figure out what to do with his life—all thanks to
where he has been working, a place better known to him
as Home.
I was 14 and there it was, the building that
I’d never seen before, next to the park, down by the
riverside. I stood right in front of it, looking up at the
sign, but I had to move the bangs covering my face to
read the big, yellow, bold letters: Rocking the Boat. I
wore my earphones in, music blasting, beat-up sneakers,
ragged, dark clothing, and a watch that read 9:30 a.m.
This was the wardrobe that I thought would be most
appropriate for building boats. I felt that joining a
program was more than enough to be considered a social
person. I rang the doorbell, not noticing that the door
was already unlocked, still being buzzed in. I didn’t know
that the first step I took inside would be the beginning of
it all.
I looked around and saw about 20 to 30
new faces, all around my age. They were socializing as
a reward for being early, while I was sitting alone, back
on the worn-out couches, waiting patiently for the time
to reach 10 a.m. to start work. My first encounter with
someone was that same day. Her name was Jessica, and
I now consider her a good friend. She tried to make
conversation with me, but failed due to my one-word
replies and my urge to shove my earphones back in my
ears. This affected my ability to work with others and
prevented my voice from being heard in the shop.
HPAC Young Writers Review
By age 15, I slowly made my way around,
starting conversations and joining group discussions
before it was time to work. That year I found out about
the next step for Rocking the Boat students, Job Skills.
You had to be going into or already in your junior year of
high school, with the right skills and leadership abilities
to get accepted. It was then that I knew I wanted that
next step. I applied for Job Skills and went through an
interview.
I got in.
By age 16, I started to get more involved and
was recognized, not only by the students but also by the
grown-ups around the building that I didn’t even know
on a first name basis. I got “Hey Steven!” from here and
there, and felt socially accepted for once in my life. Then
there was the day I’ll always remember, when the founder
of Rocking the Boat was giving a tour to a group of
donors. He was showing them around the shop when he
told me to stop whatever I was doing and come over, so
I did. He formally introduced me and further told them
that I had become the ideal person for Rocking the Boat,
a boy who joined as a rising freshman and stuck through
it, participated in every event, caused no problems, and
had a passion for anything he did.
I’m 17 and there it is, the building that I’ve
seen so many times before, next to the park, down by
the riverside. I stand right in front of it, looking up at
the sign, and there is nothing in front of my eyes, short
hair. I wear earphones in with music at decent level, new
sneakers, new fitting clothes, and the same watch that
reads 9:30 a.m. I had felt that joining a program was
more than enough to be labeled as a social person, and it
was. I ring the doorbell, already knowing that the door
would be unlocked, still being buzzed in. I open the door
and walk in. I am Home.