Jay Fehntrich ’25
Transformations: Rising
“In my 17 years of being at this job, I have never seen a success story like yours.”
In order to understand who said that and why, we need to go back a few years. So, shall we?
The Early Years
Growing up I lived with only my mom, from four to sixteen roughly. I would sometimes visit my dad and his side of the family before 2011. I’ll get into why that stopped later, but growing up I never had a house or my own room. The latter stays true to this day. When I was around three, going on four, my mom and I resided in Social Services living. For however long, escapes me. I was a…rambunctious child. Let’s say. My mom would always tell me I hit these two girls who were mean back then. I don’t think I had the “you don’t hit anybody” concept in my head back then. Now I do.
We soon moved to West Babylon, New York, for a good four, five years of my life. This is where I would visit and hang out with my dad a lot, since West Babylon isn’t far from Copiague at all. I made a lot of good friends. Memories to last a lifetime. But where we actually lived was a different story. I call it “The Box,” because it was extremely small. I never really cared at the time because I was an innocent kid who only cared about school, video games, and whatever else was on my little kid brain.
“The Box” was surrounded by our tenants. We interacted with our upstairs neighbors quite a bit. I don’t exactly remember their names, but I remember Gloria, her husband, their daughter, and their grandkids. I hung out with their grandkids a lot. This brings back memories I thought were lost. I would play with their cat too. Since I had one of my own, it wasn’t a hassle for me. He liked me a lot.
I didn’t mention my cat yet did I? My mom and I got a cat named Snugglepoe (Yes, I know. Adorable.) I was never the closest with her; she would always be closer to mom. And that’s because we got another cat, who we named Cuddlepoe (I know. So original right?). I connected more with Cuddle than I did Snuggle. She was a big part of my childhood, helping me forget everything around me, like that I didn’t really hang out with friends outside of school, or before or after my afterschool program. She would be my company in those times. However, she’d also be a part of my downfall.
Holbrook
In 2011, we moved out of West Babylon to Holbrook. I remember being taken out of class, during a reading session I think, and my fellow peers saying “nnoooooo” as I went out the door. And I laughed. I genuinely laughed as I was walking down the stairs. A good handful of family members helped us move, I remember. We moved to a studio, which wasn’t too much bigger than “The Box,” but it was larger enough to make a difference. For a while anyway.
I transferred to Grundy Elementary school. I was a shy boy. I think the first day I didn’t want to go so bad that my mom just took me to work with her. I cried a lot, but I eventually made good friends, one who I still talk to to this day. I was still innocent when we moved, so the space thing was still never a true issue. For me anyways. It still wasn’t enough for two cats, a mom, and a kid who was about to be a teen. And that’s when it mattered the most, because as we all know, we teens need our space and privacy.
Rising Action
I made plenty of memories in elementary school. Mostly good. Obviously when you’re in that phase, your innocence helps a lot. But, then comes middle school. A dude that I knew in high school said this and I wholeheartedly agree: High school is made out to be the worst or one of the worst times in a person’s life. But in actuality, it’s middle school that’s hard, while high school can be one of the best times in one’s life. That was the case for me.
I remember the first couple of years being alright. I had an odd “camouflage” phase in seventh grade where I’d wear camouflage pants and a hoodie—I guess I didn’t want to be seen. These were the years that I also first felt my ability to be a storyteller, as far as I remember. Previously, I’d tell stories with my toys that would span days. Weeks maybe. And whenever I had to pause the story I’d always keep the toys near where I’d left off with them. So if they were on my desk, I would keep them in a neat pile there, and if they were somewhere on the kitchen counter, I’d put them in the nearest corner so they wouldn’t impede cooking.
But I hated the story getting interrupted long term, because a lot of the time once that happened I would scrap it completely. And I’d either start over or create a new one with my other toys (I went back and forth between my wrestling figures and Legos). That also allowed me to escape the harsh reality around me. Until I couldn’t anymore.
The Climax
When I entered eighth grade, I was fine, typical me from years prior. But I guess I was becoming more insecure. These girls would tease me constantly that one or the other liked me. Alyssa and Lea. And looking back at it, I think Alyssa actually did like me. But nonetheless, I never had the guts to ask her out. My anxiety was through the roof. And to top it off, Cuddlepoe was sick. I won’t go into details, but one morning I woke up to find my mom and her both gone. And I knew what was being done. I do wish I was there. But I understand why mom didn’t take me. It hurt. It fucking hurt, pardon me. I still miss her now. She was my little fuzzball. After that, everything went downhill.
Falling Action
She was the “bullet to the gunpowder” so to speak. After she died, everything went downhill for me. My fall from grace. I stayed out of school because everything around me crashed. The bubble of innocence that I was surrounded by shattered as soon as mom came home without her. All that I ignored came to me in an instant: The space I never had. The siblings I never got to bond with because I’m an only child. The innocence I lost. My bratty nature, if I’m being honest. Cuddlepoe allowed me to ignore what was going on with myself, physically and mentally. When she died, it forced my hand on the matter of “growing up,” in all aspects. I gave away my toys after that, and went into a depressive state. I looked down on myself. I barely passed eighth grade.
I continued to stay out of school into high school and ninth grade. In all honesty, I stayed out in ninth grade mainly because of health reasons. I was constantly urinating, and always had a weird, nauseous feeling. It’s not that I didn’t want to go to school. It’s that with me going to the bathroom way too often, and with how the bathroom system worked back then (you basically had to get the teacher to sign a paper), I perceived myself as a nuisance. My anxiety prevented me from talking to my high school guidance counselor or teachers to try and find a solution. So I just stayed out of school. I failed every class except for gym.
I went into tenth grade in a better place. My attendance started off pretty strongly, and much better than the previous year. The school even gave me an Xbox for my efforts for Christmas. Don’t ask me why, but I wasn’t complaining. I started talking to my guidance counselor a little more that year. And in fact, I don’t know, but I have a feeling she’s the one who got me the Xbox. But I soon started staying out again not long after that, because mom was going through some serious changes.
To make a long story short, she worked a custodial job at the white court house in Central Islip for a couple of decades. She lost that job around the time Cuddlepoe died. And she was becoming more and more unstable in her head. She would lash out. Always yelling, never hitting, thankfully. I never appreciated it, but I understood. I would lash back at her in my early years, because even then she had issues with her job and anxiety and everything else. But the more I grew the more I learned to stay quiet. But nonetheless, I backed down from going to school. And for a while, I stayed down.
But she was affecting me every time I was home. We loved each other, no doubt. And she cared for me like a mother would. But it eventually affected her physically—one day she just fell out of bed. I remember it now clearly like it was yesterday. I was just waking up, and since we were in a studio we slept only a few feet apart from each other. As I was waking up, she slumped out of bed.
I rushed over to her and I remember her muttering “911. 911.” So that’s what I called. An ambulance showed up not long after that. And they took both of us to the hospital. I was there for support. After that, it wasn’t long before she went back to the hospital. And this time I didn’t know when she was coming back. So CPS took me a couple of nights later to my grandma and dad’s, where I reside today.
The Comeback Kid
Ever since I’ve been here, I’ve been so much better. Of course when I first got here my relations were sketchy with my grandma and father since I didn’t speak to either for the better part of six years. But it got much, much better. My attendance skyrocketed. Mostly because my grandma and dad forced me to go, which I appreciate, looking back at it, even if I didn’t like it then. My confidence got a lot better. And my grades got a lot better too. At this point I would constantly be in the guidance office with my counselor, because I had the confidence to go. Because I trusted myself and her—so much in fact that she literally calls me her “surrogate son.” She even drove me to Purchase for orientation. I graduated high school when I basically failed freshman year. And now, at Purchase, my mindset couldn’t be better.
If I had to take something out of my life so far to keep with me for the rest of it, it would be this: Life will throw everything at you. You must look up, shoulders back and head high, ready to face what challenges you. And if that challenge is um, let’s say, very challenging, don’t back down. Keep at it. If you’re feeling defeated, don’t stay down. Learn, recuperate. Reinitiate. You will best that challenge eventually. Oh, and the opening quote? That’s from my high school guidance counselor, who I’ve clearly gotten close to over the four years I felt myself change, and move forward.