6.2 text From Boilers to Dartmouth: ‘I Got Lucky’ By JIM DWYER

Suddenly, Mr. Navas, a high-school dropout and a do-just-enough-to-pass college

student, found himself reading unassigned chapters in the text.

The teacher, Giuseppe Cataldo, then a graduate student working on his

doctorate, “was a younger guy, hip, telling us about all the research that was

going on in the world,” Mr. Navas said.

“The mentors made the

difference,“ he said.

A high-school dropout and drop-in, Mr. Navas had a

knack for figuring out how things worked.

“If there’s no elevator, you have four guys holding a 400-pound part with

monkey wrenches and carrying it downstairs,” he said.

Chris Navas needed a course that met at the right time in the evening and would

not interfere with his day job, which was building boilers, or his daily obsession,

which was building his body.

“They had a night class, a 200-level psychology class,” Mr. Navas

said.

The girlfriend, Lauren Talesnick, now his fiancée, encouraged him to switch to

a psychology major and escape a tangle of course requirements.

The girlfriend, Lauren Talesnick, now his fiancée, encouraged him to switch to

a psychology major and escape a tangle of course requirements.

The teacher, Giuseppe Cataldo, then a graduate student working on his

doctorate, “was a younger guy, hip, telling us about all the research that was

going on in the world,” Mr. Navas said.

The teacher, Giuseppe Cataldo, then a graduate student working on his

doctorate, “was a younger guy, hip, telling us about all the research that was

going on in the world,” Mr. Navas said.

His class work at Queens College was fitted into patches of time around

boilers and barbells.

He was

hired at the boiler company, which builds boilers in pieces and then assembles

them.

Chris Navas needed a course that met at the right time in the evening and would

not interfere with his day job, which was building boilers, or his daily obsession,

which was building his body.

After community college, Mr. Navas started from scratch at Queens College,

planning to earn a degree in exercise science.

The girlfriend, Lauren Talesnick, now his fiancée, encouraged him to switch to

a psychology major and escape a tangle of course requirements.

It worked for my schedule.”

Dr. Salk, a

graduate of the City College of New York, was offered a ticker-tape parade by the

city, but declined and said the money would be better spent on scholarships for

medical students.

His class work at Queens College was fitted into patches of time around

boilers and barbells.

The boss sent him out with a

cellphone and a toolbox, and told him to call after he had popped open a panel on

the balky refrigerator.

“Dartmouth Medical School,” he said.

He was

making good money at a factory in Maspeth, Queens, forming new boilers from

sheet steel as if it were clay, rolling it, shaping it, cutting it.

Dr. Salk, a

graduate of the City College of New York, was offered a ticker-tape parade by the

city, but declined and said the money would be better spent on scholarships for

medical students.

On Wednesday morning, Mr. Navas and seven other graduates from the City

University of New York will receive the first installment of an $8,000 scholarship

named for Jonas E. Salk, who developed a vaccine for polio in 1955.

The youngest of three, he was raised

along with his brother and sister by their mother, Brianne Navas, who supported

them with jobs, welfare and great expectations.

His mother, sister and friends nudged him to go to community college in Nassau

County and take classes, even if he didn’t know what he was going to do.

AFTER high school, with no particular plans, he got a job as a secretary at a

refrigeration company that serviced supermarket equipment.

He was

making good money at a factory in Maspeth, Queens, forming new boilers from

sheet steel as if it were clay, rolling it, shaping it, cutting it.

Suddenly, Mr. Navas, a high-school dropout and a do-just-enough-to-pass college

student, found himself reading unassigned chapters in the text.

I had no

vision of becoming a doctor.

After community college, Mr. Navas started from scratch at Queens College,

planning to earn a degree in exercise science.

The girlfriend, Lauren Talesnick, now his fiancée, encouraged him to switch to

a psychology major and escape a tangle of course requirements.

The youngest of three, he was raised

along with his brother and sister by their mother, Brianne Navas, who supported

them with jobs, welfare and great expectations.

The research that I liked was with

learning and memory, which was Dr. Susan Croll’s area.”

“He told us about monkeys controlling

robotic arms just using their brain, and how they can control mice with joysticks.

“They had a night class, a 200-level psychology class,” Mr. Navas

said.

After community college, Mr. Navas started from scratch at Queens College,

planning to earn a degree in exercise science.

The research that I liked was with

learning and memory, which was Dr. Susan Croll’s area.”

On Wednesday morning, Mr. Navas and seven other graduates from the City

University of New York will receive the first installment of an $8,000 scholarship

named for Jonas E. Salk, who developed a vaccine for polio in 1955.

The youngest of three, he was raised

along with his brother and sister by their mother, Brianne Navas, who supported

them with jobs, welfare and great expectations.

Suddenly, Mr. Navas, a high-school dropout and a do-just-enough-to-pass college

student, found himself reading unassigned chapters in the text.

A high-school dropout and drop-in, Mr. Navas had a

knack for figuring out how things worked.