Bryan Sieber, their academic coordinator, enthusiastic and kind, was working hard to shore up his Twenty Degrees, to keep them going. Some of them fretted that maybe they should change their class' name to reflect their diminished number.
"I told them, 'That number does not define you,' " Sieber said. " 'You're more than just a number.' "
On "A Piece of You Day," the classroom at Community College of Philadelphia had an almost festive feeling.
Andre Patterson, pushing on toward the semester's end after thinking about leaving for a job, passed around photographs he had taken. They were good - professional quality, even.
Amelia Figueroa, an aspiring social worker, had planted the idea for a coming Gateway holiday food drive. On "A Piece of You Day," she proudly displayed swimming medals of youths she had coached.
Quevyn Smith, back in street clothes after release from his drug-rehab placement, flashed his deeply dimpled smile and won big applause for an original rap song about choosing school over the streets.
Rakeem Mason leaned his head against an arm. He was looking tired lately. His job loading trucks for UPS had him working until 2 a.m., and he was still keeping up with his schoolwork. That day, he held legal-pad pages, a letter his uncle had sent him from prison.
"He felt my dad left me and that was his loss," Rakeem said. "He gave me inspiration to keep moving and do better and not become a statistic in my neighborhood."
Kandice Davies showed off pictures of her kids and her family. One was taken the day of her fifth-grade graduation. Her mom and dad were in it. Three years later, the day after Kandice's eighth-grade graduation, her mother left the family. In the fifth-grade picture, they looked happy.
When it was his turn, Tariq Beyah, 17, a student who had been struggling all semester, sort of shuffled to the front of the room, looking self-conscious, as he often did.
