From Drug Dealing To Diploma, A Teen's Struggle Of all the problems this country faces in education, one of the most complicated, heart-wrenching and urgent is the dropout crisis. Nearly 1 million teenagers stop going to school every year. Patrick Lundvick, 19, had been hustling and involved with gangs on the streets of South Chicago for much of his life. After dropping out of school at 15, he spent time in jail. Now he's getting a second chance.
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From Drug Dealing To Diploma, A Teen's Struggle

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From Drug Dealing To Diploma, A Teen's Struggle

From Drug Dealing To Diploma, A Teen's Struggle

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  • <iframe src="" width="100%" height="290" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" title="NPR embedded audio player">
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Just under 4 million kids start ninth grade every year, but one in four won't graduate. Today, we begin a series profiling five dropouts. We'll hear how they're doing in this tough economy, and about the emotional toll dropping out has taken on their lives.


In Chicago, NPR's Claudio Sanchez found one young man who dropped out, spent time in jail, and is now getting a second chance.

CLAUDIO SANCHEZ: For a kid who's been hustling and gang-banging on the streets of south Chicago for much of his life, 19-year-old Patrick Lundvick doesn't look menacing at all. He's chubby, about 5-foot-8, with a mop of curly black hair, light-green eyes and a friendly disposition. Patrick grew up poor, an only child raised by a single mom who couldn't always be there for him.

NORRIS: It's always been like that. I mean, I did everything on my own.

SANCHEZ: Patrick's decision to drop out of school at age 15 was his own, too.

NORRIS: I did two years freshman, and I just stopped going to school. You think all right, well, my friends are doing it, so I'm going to do it.

SANCHEZ: Patrick didn't set foot in school for three years. When his mother finally found out, she shipped him off to a boot camp. But Patrick kept coming back to the streets, where he got another kind of education: learning the drug trade.

NORRIS: Like all right, the corner. You can see your corner store. In your eyes, that's just a normal corner store. But when I look at it, I see money. I see where I chill every day. I see my normal custies(ph) - custies, customers.


NORRIS: It's just your whole perception changes, even when you lose people. Like, I've already had three of my own best friends shot dead. And one of them I actually had to witness.

SANCHEZ: It was a $75,000 cocaine deal gone bad, says Patrick. Let me show you where it happened, he says.

NORRIS: I had one of my guys right here on 38th and Paulina. He was shot in the neck, layed out. These streets is no joke.

SANCHEZ: To the police, Patrick was just another small-time thug.

NORRIS: A cop sees me, they study, want to stop and look. You know, who's that? Oh, well, that's Phantom - grab him, grab him.

SANCHEZ: Phantom?

NORRIS: Yeah, it's the name I go by.


SANCHEZ: Patrick was 16 the first time he went to jail for selling drugs. You could say it was the first job he ever had, a gateway to a life of crime.

NORRIS: Arson, attempted robbery, armed robbery, I got caught stealing a boat off the river. I was on house arrest for four months, not allowed near water.

SANCHEZ: That was last September. All told, Patrick has spent more than two years in jail and no one, not even Patrick, suffered more than his mother.

NORRIS: Every time I was in a pair of handcuffs, or I was brought home by the cops, or she got that phone call from me at lockup and I just heard her ball up, like - again, again; when are you going to stop?

SANCHEZ: Patrick is a star pupil. He's really good with computers. And unlike most dropouts, he's never had trouble with reading or math. But even if he gets his high school diploma, Patrick has no illusions that his search for a good job and a better life will be easy.

NORRIS: Your criminal record will hurt you no matter what. Say you go for a job interview and the boss just looks at you and decides he doesn't want to give you a chance. Well, keep going back every week, once a week, to just say, hey, have you filled the position yet? Show him that you're not out there on the streets. No. Everyone can change - everyone.

SANCHEZ: People who work with dropouts say the reason shouldn't surprise anyone.

SANCHEZ: The problem is - overwhelmingly, from my point of view - is poverty.

SANCHEZ: Jack Wuest heads the Chicago-based Alternative Schools Network, an organization devoted to rescuing dropouts and teaching them job skills.

NORRIS: There's no real healthy economy. In a lot of the neighborhoods, the jobs have left in mass numbers. Eleven percent of black teens in the city had jobs; that's a jobless rate of 89 percent. It's devastating.

SANCHEZ: Schools and alternative programs for dropouts in Chicago, meanwhile, are filled to capacity. These programs are supposed to give young people a second chance and for that, Patrick is grateful. But for all his talk of turning a new leaf, he's unwilling to make a clean break from his past and the drug dealers and gang bangers he still calls his friends.

NORRIS: I can't say I will not hang out with any of like, the people I know, 'cause some of the people that are in that life have saved my life.

SANCHEZ: Claudio Sanchez, NPR News.

NORRIS: Nearly half of the nation's dropouts are girls. Most leave school because they get pregnant.

SANCHEZ: Like my son, I reach home every day, I take him to school every day. My son is like the number one kid in class right now. I am breaking the cycle. I am breaking it.

NORRIS: Tomorrow on MORNING EDITION, a young woman's struggle to go back to school and provide a better life for her children.

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