A degree of success

By JEANNE MALMGREN

© St. Petersburg Times, published June 26, 2000

It was a struggle, but a doctorate in education completes Israel Peniel's long road back from homelessness and addiction.

TAMPA -- Doctor Peniel.

It is the third name he has had in his life, and the one he's most proud of.

This new name -- a title, really, bestowed in honor of academic achievement -- means he has finally made it. It also means he is no longer the man he was.

Israel Peniel, 49, former drug and alcohol addict, spouse abuser and homeless person, is now a doctor of education. He received the degree June 11 at Nova Southeastern University in Fort Lauderdale.

On Friday evening, Peniel, his wife, Gloria, and two dozen close friends gathered at the Carrington Park apartments clubhouse in Tampa Palms to celebrate.

"This is a closing chapter to my long struggle," said Peniel, beaming. "It's very relieving to come to this point."

Peniel, a Tampa native, was featured in the Times two years ago this month. Looking back on his life, "Doctor" is about the last thing he would have expected to call himself.

After accepting kudos on receiving his doctorate in education, Israel Peniel invited his guests to “get out on the floor and boogie” -- which Peniel quickly did, with friend Sylvia Curcuruto.

He was born Harold Bernard Johnson. As a child he suffered from attention deficit disorder caused, he believes, by his mother's hard drinking while she was pregnant. A bad student, he poured himself into sports. He spent the 1973-74 seasons in the NFL, as a running back for the San Diego Chargers. Thirteen thousand dollars a year.

He went back to school and earned a bachelor's in sociology from the University of Tampa. He worked as a substitute teacher in Hillsborough County schools. He became an ordained minister, spreading the gospel via radio and television. He married and had three children.

In 1978, the problems of his childhood resurfaced. "I went dysfunctional," is how he puts it. He drank and drugged, abused his wife. He lost his work, his home, his family. For 15 years he struggled.

Believing he still had something to give, he pulled himself back up.

First he changed his name, to reflect his interest in Judaism and his desire to live a spiritual life. He decided he wanted to work with young people who had behavioral problems, so he enrolled in a master's program at the University of South Florida.

He remarried and, with his new wife's help, returned to the ministry. Together, the Peniels founded a program called IS-PEN (taken from his new legal name), which attempts to teach self-esteem, spirituality, ethics and morality to at-risk youngsters.

After earning his master's, Peniel became an adjunct professor at the Plant City campus of Hillsborough Community College. His IS-PEN curriculum was used in a pilot program at a Hillsborough alternative school.

Even those successes, though, weren't enough. In 1997 Peniel decided to go for a doctorate.

Three years later he is the recipient of an Ed.D. in child, youth and family studies, with a concentration in special services/exceptional education. His dissertation was based on eight months he spent at the Martin Luther King Jr. Recreation Center in Plant City, conducting twice-weekly workshops on character development for the children there.

He spent the past academic year teaching kindergarten students at a Tampa charter school.

Friday night, however, it was time to set aside the textbooks and celebrate.

Israel Peniel greets Monica Ford-Davis and Robert Davis as they arrive at a party celebrating Peniel’s receiving his doctorate. Said Ford-Davis, who also earned a doctorate: It has been “like boot camp. And we made it!”

Peniel greeted his guests with bear hugs. He was resplendent in a burgundy suit with matching felt Stetson, two hoop earrings and gold-rimmed bifocals. His shirt: shocking pink.

"That's actually kind of subdued for him," said friend John Wever, laughing. "He also has a bright yellow suit that he wears with orange shoes."

Wever works with Gloria Peniel in Hillsborough County's human resources department. Several other coworkers attended the party and traded stories about Peniel.

"He's just a big, loving guy," said Lori Krieck.

Debra Thrower, a friend and fellow member of the College Hill Church of God in Christ, said Peniel guided her into master's studies in clinical social work and now is pestering her to go further.

"He really encourages doctoral learning," she said.

As guests moved along a buffet, soft recorded jazz filled the air, provided by Peniel's friend Dave Rocca, a former coworker at Cleveland Elementary who also is a disc jockey.

Peniel sipped ice water and reflected on the amazing arc of his life.

"I've felt like I was a man on a mission, that time was running out and I've got to do this."

He's not sure what the future holds. He would love to stay in Hillsborough County, but he also sent job applications as far away as California. He'd like to continue working with young people who face the same obstacles he did.

"What I'm really hoping will happen is that I will be an exact fit for a population of people who need to see what I've gained through my struggle," he said. "I know there's a place for me somewhere."

Midway through the party, there were toasts.

"I congratulate my classmate on his accomplishment," said Monica Ford-Davis of Jacksonville, who received an Ed.D. from Nova earlier this month and was in a study group with Peniel. "This has been a long road for us, like adult boot camp. And we made it!"

Peniel and his wife unveiled a framed portrait of him wearing a gray academic robe with the light blue hood of a doctor. The room erupted into cheers.

"We are very optimistic," Gloria Peniel said. "We know this portrait will one day hang in a prestigious place."

Peniel grinned.

"And now I want everybody to get out on the floor and boogie," he said. "How 'bout some James Brown?"

He moved to the center of the room, a large figure in burgundy, all smooth moves and happy smiles.

The song: I Feel Good.

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