The school was old and prestigious, a real coup for the kid from Roslindale. But from the moment John Connolly crossed the threshold of Roxbury Latin, he struggled.
Suddenly, his essays were expected to be top-notch, hours of homework were given, and his classmates from the suburbs seemed to know everything.
He had wanted to go to Boston Latin, where many of his neighborhood friends were headed. But his parents were adamant: Roxbury Latin it would be.
Every Roxbury Latin boy is expected to play sports, and Johnny — his family still calls him that — quarterbacked the football team for two years. He’d come home, books piled high, so exhausted from football that it was a battle to make it up the hill to the house on Cerdan Avenue.
“He broke down and cried and cried and cried,” says his father, Michael. “He said, ‘I can’t do it.’ ”
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