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The Billboard That Gives Me Tingles

I get tingles in my spine whenever I walk past the huge “Service” billboard on my way to class. It’s more than a marketing line to me. It captures who we are at and the kind of education I want to impart to my students.

FPU’s mission is to “develop students for leadership and service through excellence in Christian higher education.” That mission keeps me centered as a professor. It also pushes me to keep asking: Are my criminology students only learning about justice in the classroom—or are they also learning to practice justice in our city?

This semester, that question has led us into after-school programs at Martin Park and mentoring relationships with kids in 91��Ƭ Unified schools. Last semester, it took us to a turkey giveaway with the Asian Business Institute and Resource Center (ABIRC). In all of these spaces, I see my students discovering that some of the most important lessons happen when we’re tired, sweaty and serving side by side.

Learning to Serve at Martin Park

is a small but mighty community hub in the Lowell neighborhood of inner-city 91��Ƭ. It exists to improve children’s lives by providing safe spaces, high-quality after-school programming and support for families who are navigating high crime rates, poverty and educational inequities.

This semester, my students are part of that work. On any given afternoon, you might find them:

• Helping kids with homework.
• Organizing games or art projects in a noisy room full of energy.
• Handing out snacks, food boxes or supplies to families.
• Simply sitting on the floor listening to a child.

For many of my students, this is their first sustained experience in a neighborhood that looks very different from where they grew up—or, in some cases, a deeper dive into a neighborhood that looks exactly like where they grew up…but seen now through the lens of their education.

In class, we talk about neighborhoods, inequality and the social determinants of health. At Martin Park, those concepts have names, faces and stories. Students notice which kids come in hungry, which families struggle with transportation or housing, which teens are at risk of disengaging from school. They begin to see how policy-level issues show up in everyday life.

My students aren’t saviors. They are learners and helpers, joining a long-term, community-led effort. They see what consistent presence looks like: that change is slow and relational. And they learn that “service” is less about doing a project and more about joining a community effort that has been ongoing for years.

Mentoring with 91��Ƭ Unified: Face-to-Face with the Next Generation

At the same time, several of my students are serving as mentors through 91��Ƭ Unified’s school-based peer mentoring programs. Each week, they meet one-on-one or in small groups with elementary students who need support.

Sometimes that support looks like homework help. Sometimes it looks like practicing social skills, talking through conflict or simply being a reliable adult presence.

From a distance, mentoring can sound modest—an hour a week, a quick check-in, a few games or conversations. Up close, it’s profound. My student Carlo’s eyes light up when he tells me how excited his student is to see him. When my college students sit across from a younger student, they see how:

• Family stress and instability affect attention and behavior.
• Encouragement from a trusted adult can shift a student’s sense of what is possible.
• Race, language and class shape a child’s daily experience at school.

We debrief these mentoring experiences in class. Students connect what they are seeing to theories of socialization, labeling, strain and restorative practices. They also confront their own assumptions about “at-risk youth.”

Over time, they start to ask different questions: not “What’s wrong with this kid?” but “What’s going on in this kid’s world?” Not just “Why is this neighborhood so bad?” but “What policies and systems have created this reality, and what would it take to change them?”

Those are the questions that will build thoughtful servant leaders.

A Thanksgiving That Changed Us

Last semester, our service-learning took us into another part of the city and another kind of need.

The Saturday before Thanksgiving, my ten-year-old daughter, Ellijoy, and I woke up at 6 a.m. to drive to Greenberg Elementary School, not far from campus. We were going to meet my students and volunteer with the , Asian Business Institute and Resource Center, at their turkey giveaway.

When we arrived at 7:30 a.m., we saw something that stayed with all of us: a line of people already waiting, even though the Thanksgiving boxes would not be distributed until noon. That line told the truth about our city. It reminded us that for many families, a Thanksgiving meal is not guaranteed. For some, it is only possible because of events like this.

We spent the morning packing boxes—canned foods, fresh vegetables, turkey and ham—working shoulder to shoulder with ABIRC staff and other volunteers. The morning chill gave way to 91��Ƭ sunlight as we shed our layers. The line kept growing.

Packing and Distributing Thanksgiving Boxes for 91��Ƭ Families

Standing there, I felt proud—not just as a professor, but as a parent and fellow community member. First-generation students like Esmeralda carry enormous family responsibility and resilience. Student-athletes like Brandon and Erik juggle intense schedules while still showing up to serve. Jacob, who serves on Student Government, arrived later and joined right in. We were all in it together.

When it was time to distribute the boxes, the pace quickened. Even after we ran out of turkeys, we continued to hand out food boxes, and people received them with gratitude.

At one point, a person walked away with hands full and said, “Some of us wouldn’t have nothing to celebrate with if not for you all.” That sentence still echoes in my mind, as I remember the gratitude in their voice. It was a simple acknowledgment that the work we were doing mattered.

My daughter was visibly tired, but she refused to stop until I insisted she take a break. By the end—after five hours on our feet in the sun—she summed up the day in three words: “Tired but happy.”

I think she spoke for all of us.

Why I Build Service Into My Classes

Why do I design classes where students are asked to mentor kids, run after-school activities or spend hours packing food in the sun?

Because I am convinced that service-learning is not ancillary to rigorous academic work—it is one of the best ways to deepen it.

When students serve:

• They see abstract concepts embodied in real lives.
• They develop empathy, humility and the ability to listen across difference.
• They wrestle with ethical questions that no textbook can fully capture.
• They become agents of change, not just observers or critics.

At 91��Ƭ Pacific, we talk about being a Christ-centered university that transforms the Central Valley and beyond. For me, that transformation begins with small, consistent acts: showing up week after week at Martin Park, keeping a mentoring appointment with a fourth-grader or giving up a Saturday to help families have a Thanksgiving meal.

In my field, it is easy to be overwhelmed by the scale of injustice and the extent of problems in our justice system. My goal is not to offer easy fixes, but to help students see how their skills, passions and degrees can be used in concrete ways—whether in community organizations, schools, courts, nonprofits or churches. They are the change our world needs.

Service-learning lets them practice this while they are still in school. They graduate not only with theories in their heads, but with stories in their hearts and relationships in their lives.

“Tired but Happy” as a Way of Life

I’ve come to see “tired but happy” as a kind of vocational compass.

If my students leave my class with:

• a deeper understanding of the systems we study
• a stronger commitment to their neighbors
• a willingness to let their schedules and comfort be disrupted by service

then the tiredness is a good sign. It means they have invested themselves in something that matters. It’s an experience that no AI chatbot can replicate.

I am so glad our 91��Ƭ students are serving the city—at Martin Park, in 91��Ƭ Unified mentoring programs, through ABIRC and in countless other quiet ways. It is not extra credit; it is an integral part of their learning and of who we are called to be.

My hope is that as they move into careers in criminal justice, social services, education and beyond, they carry that “tired but happy” posture with them—a readiness to serve, to listen and to help build communities where more people can say, “because of you, we have something to celebrate this year.”

This article was originally posted on LinkedIn on April 24, 2026.