A Wound on My Heart
Heart wounds – do they ever heal? I know they scar over….but how many wounds can one heart take before there’s only scar tissue?
In the last few weeks I have become increasingly annoyed with the school administrators’ lack of administering. They tell us we have to rely on them to act, but I am an impatient soul. I figure if they haven’t acted in the first 9 months, they’re not likely to start acting in the last month. Call me a pessimist – I don’t care!
I enlisted the help of another teacher and began my sweeps. Every period, when the tardy bell rang, we stood out in the halls and corralled all the students that didn’t make it to class on time. Then we wrote detention slips. The first day we wrote more than 40. Today I only wrote 3. Still think I’m a pessimist? Ha!
One young man I wrote a detention to last week gave me a parting shot as he left my room – “It’s only cause I’m black!” I was pissed. That’s a hot button for me – blaming your bad behavior on someone else’s supposed prejudices. You could have cooked an egg on my forehead – I was that hot.
Later another teacher spoke to him about the comment. He said it was meant as a joke. She explained that people don’t find that comment humorous. He owned up and apologized to me. I accepted. Incident forgotten.
Today this young man showed up in my last class at the end of the day. He was obviously agitated. He asked permission to stay in my class for the period. He said he’d already gotten one referral today and just KNEW that if he went to his last class he wouldn’t be able to contain himself and would get another one. Somewhat hesitantly I went to his teacher, explained the situation to him, and got permission for the young man to stay in my room.
As I sat behind my desk, he came up and began to talk to me. He lives with his mom. His mom has a boyfriend that beats her. If he can’t beat her, he has buddies who will. He wants to protect his mom, but he can’t. Mom doesn’t trust her son, for whatever reason, so he must be in by 7:30 every evening. He then sits in his room until time to go to school the next day. He has a cousin a couple of years older than he is who is in jail for stealing a car and joyriding. He worries about what will happen to his cousin.
He realizes his life sucks and his ticket to a better life is to at least get a high school diploma. He has plans – and those plans require at least a basic education. Hopefully even 2 years at the local community college.
But he is 16 – and still in middle school. Time for him is running out. He knows he needs to focus on school, but is so preoccupied with his daily survival that he cannot drag his mind away from it even when he is at school. He is a bright young man with a wonderful sense of humor. It’s not just adolescent silliness and cracks – I think he could have some success as a comedian. You have to be intelligent to put together good comedy. The boy is no dummy.
What he is – is 16 and instead of feeling like he has the whole world in front of him, he feels as if the weight of the whole world is on his shoulders.
He spoke openly and honestly to me. There were no signs of the “spin” that kids put on things when they are just out for attention. H
e was hurting. And I absorbed his hurt. I hurt for him. I wanted to reach out and hug him and tell him everything will be OK. But that’s a promise I can’t make, can I?
We talked about choices and goals and coping. I listened. I blinked a lot as the tears rose in my eyes while I felt his desperation and hopelessness and helplessness. We talked about the possibility of him moving to his father’s place in Ohio for a new start. Mostly – I listened (and blinked).
When the bell rang, some of the tension had gone out of his body. He seemed a little more at ease. Maybe my listening helped. But I want to do so much more. I want to take him home and give him some stability. I want to give him the opportunity to be a 16 year old BOY, not a man before his time. But I can’t. Given the climate of teachers taking “too much” of an interest in their students – I did just about all I can today. And I’ll do it again tomorrow if I can.
But my heart hurts. Children should not have to endure such conditions. They should not be more concerned about surviving than enjoying life. I can’t wave a magic wand and fix it – but I want to. I want to so badly.
My heart is wounded for this young man, and my eyes are bleeding tears.
Hugs to you, {{{{{{{Sunshine}}}}}}}. You CAN do much to help that boy make a better life for himself. He wants to, and moving to his father’s place may provide the environment he needs to do that. Have an idea that if his father could read your message here he would be glad to have his son him come live with him.
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You already know all the things I could say: You’re making a better life for him already by listening, by being an example, by providing stability in a world that may have little other. (I could also say, after this week, that he could be a plausibly lying little snot, but I won’t, because I believe that you could tell the difference.) Knowing it and saying doesn’t help, though. To be frank, it’s one of the reasons I got out of that game . . . since I couldn’t take them ALL home with me, I thought I should concentrate on the ones that WERE at home. Huh. Turns out you’re probably doing more good than I. Thank God for teachers, and women, and people, like you.
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You’ve done far more than you will ever understand just by listening. But I know how you feel — and it’s a helpless feeling.
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I am hurting for this boy now. It’s awful what children have to live with. You’re doing so much for him now. Just keep listening.
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*HUGS YOU TIGHT* Am so scared when it comes time for me to be that teacher. I have done some sub work before, and I have seen and lived some crazy things. But it seems that today a good part of the kids are dealing with more then they should. They have no real time to be kids. But, being a good teacher and a listener is the key to be a hero.
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Oh sweet Lord. You break my heart. Us and our throw away kids! I think he will remember this day and you forever. You’ll be his Mrs. Neal, the teacher who gave hope, acceptance and shelter from the storm. xoxox
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Poor kid. I hope he makes good choices and I hope his mother grows some courage. With blessings to him and to you…
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{{{{{Too}}}}}, I’m so glad that you were there to listen to this young man. Sometimes I don’t think people understand how important that in and of itself can be…the act of truly listening. You validated his feelings and the simple fact that he is a worthy human being. You’re a blessing to all those kids you come in contact with my friend.
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somewhere my generation really failed our children and they are failing theirs even more. I really resent what parents do to their children because of their own selfishness, but his mother maybe scared to try to survive on her own and stays in the bad situation.
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You helped by listening. You will probably never know how much you helped (but I suspect it was a lot.) I’m not sure that hearts always scar over in this situation; some, I think, become softer. The suffering that some children are forced to go through horrifies me – but the resilience many of them show astonishes me. Hopefully he will come through this and become a fine adult.
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I don’t even want to think about how many kids out there are just like your young friend. It’s too sad to think about. Do you think there is someone in the community that could take him in? But how do you find the right fit? And I guess you really can’t get involved in the first place. Boy, hearing those stories…. I can see how hard it would be not to want to get involved.
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well said, SW, and so tragic it is that there are many more out there just like him. not only young men, but young women. in spite of it all, YOU ROCK! there needs to be more caring educators like you. those who will take the time to listen and encourage.. what a difference it might make.
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*hugs* You’re such a strong woman. It’s shocking what children see, and how they can just pour it out to a person.
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Man that hurts… I’m so sorry…and the hardest part is not being able to really FIX it. I know talking is not enough, but having you understand must’ve helped him quite a bit. That age can be very resilient if they just have someone know and stay in contact. (Hug)
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I agree– kids shouldn’t have to endure this stuff. But they do. It sounds like he’s a resilliant and determined kid. Maybe you could offer him tutoring after school? Also, does he have plans for what career he wants? Because he could look for a skilled trade where he can start as an intern and work his way up.
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Sounds like so many of my students. And I get the “It’s because I’m black crack” all the time too. But sometimes “it’s because I’m Mexican.” But they don’t always mean it as a joke. Sometimes, not always. You are very compassionate. I have my good days and my bad days.
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Oh but I teach high school. I think the kids are a bit different. Not much but a bit.
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Hi…was going to add you but just hadn’t gotten to it yet. Most of my entries about school get put on private eventually so if you read back it might not make sense…there might be some pretty big holes, but anyway, nice to meet you.
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i really just adore you and admire what you do sooo much. because there are teachers and then there are educators. you are an educator and a beautiful soul. xo
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Glad you were there for him, he sounds as though he needs a friend.
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It hurt to read this. I’m so sorry. You did help though, maybe in a larger way than you know.
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