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Now that I’ve posted some updates, my mind is settled enough to share what is really on it. Yesterday I went home and wrote in my journal: My heart has cried and filled my soul with its tears.
I work with some of the most amazing people I have ever had the opportunity to know. (And for those of you who know me, that’s a pretty high standard.) The school I’m at this year is an interesting place. Just take the pieces I’ve shared and put it together. It’s one of the lowest socio-economic areas settled next to one of the wealthiest sections of Florida. Most of my students are the children of farm workers. The parents work in the fields or packing houses from before sunrise to well past sunset and even into the wee hours of the morning. This back breaking work often provides for them a government-assisted duplex, Habitat for Humanity home, or a single-wide trailer shared with another family or two.
During our meeting yesterday, we discussing some rather disturbing information about some of our students. In the process, we decided to throw a small holiday party for our neediest students. The six of us put together a list and then decided to give them each a stocking filled with small gifts and some pizza.
When I say these kids are getting nothing for Christmas, I mean they are getting nothing. Some of them don’t even have their families at home. That thought alone breaks my heart when I think about how much Christmas means to a kid. I remember a few years when we had a very meager Christmas at my house, but I still cannot imagine having NOTHING to unwrap.
The conversation progressed, and we ended up going from sharing lunch together and exchanging gifts as a team to pooling our money to buy pizza and gifts for our neediest kids. The best part is that it didn’t stop there. We ended up almost fighting over who is going to buy a special gift for which kid.
I am moved by that level of compassion. And I am so excited to go shopping for my girls. One girl told me that she wants to learn the piano, and I offered to give her lessons in the morning (if I can remember to bring in my keyboard!). I’m going out to find her a keyboard to keep at home. I don’t know what I’m doing about the other one next.
And I’m so afraid that this is not coming across just the right way. It was such a beautiful moment. In fact, I’ve had many beautiful moments lately that I haven’t written about because I’m afraid my words won’t do it justice.
So now I need to go shopping.
And the voice you need to hear is the true and the trusted kind
With a soft, familiar rhythm in these swirling, unsure times
When the waves are lapping in and you’re not sure you can swim
Well here’s the lifeline
(“This is Love”/Mary Chapin Carpenter)
Several months ago I started putting together my life story in the form of a scrapbook. Tonight, I pulled it out again and took a lovely stroll through my memory. I reached for the last set of pictures to go in the book and stopped at the very last one–my high school graduation.
The event was a little different for me. Basically, I withdrew myself from high school after the first semester of my junior year of high school. Between my mother’s deteriorating mental health and my desperate attempts to hold together the family I had left, I could find no significance to sitting in American Government discussing upcoming football games. High school life seemed so self-absorbed and meaningless…exactly what it should be. On top of all this, I was harassed daily in class and the hallways by someone, and it was just too much to deal with.
I worked full time during the day and finished my few remaining courses at night school. Those few months are still a blur, but in my typical fashion, I pushed myself to get everything done in record time. I held my high school diploma in my hands seven months early.
The adult school had a special “graduation” ceremony for students who earned either their diploma or G.E.D. Although, it was nice to be part of the event, I could help but feel depressed, wondering just what I had traded in my haste. While my friends were still writing term papers and going to club meetings, I was earning a paycheck. I was no longer a part of their club that consisted of study sessions and parties and summer plans. What did I have to show for myself?
On top of all this, this graduation was more low-key than I had envisioned. There were no caps and gowns or alma mater singing, but my entire family was there. My cheering section also included three of the most amazing people I’ve ever known–three of my best friends since junior high. I had no idea they would be there. It meant the world to me to see them there…to have them participate in the ever-so-important teenage rite of passage.
That’s what true love is all about. It’s standing by someone even when they don’t make decisions that seem right or logical to you. It’s holding tightly to relationships, and knowing that the camaraderie we share sustains our souls. It’s cheering for the milestones. It’s crying together in the depths of sorrow. And it’s that kind of love that I know twelve years later will last forever.
Here’s a discussion I had today with some seventh-going-into-eighth graders getting ready to make strawberry shortcake.
“When you get into your groups, assign a new role. You cannot be the same thing you were the last time. That means everyone needs a different job.”
“Miss, I was the reader last time, and they are making me be the reader again.”
“Well, you can’t be the reader again. Mary, what is your job right now?”
“I’m the mixer.”
“Okay, well Sarah was the reader last time. She cannot be the reader again.”
“But I’m the mixer.”
“Fine, but Sarah cannot be the reader again.”
“But I’m the mixer and Donna’s the supply person. I was the supply person last time, and Donna was the mixer last time.”
“Okay, but Sarah was the reader last time, and she cannot be the reader again today.”
“I’m confused.”
“I don’t care if you’re confused or not. Go back and change jobs again so that Sarah is NOT the reader.”
“But…”
“Go!”
Here’s one of those classroom exchanges that keeps me in stitches:
Me: Mr. Q, I have had it with your negativity today!
Q: What? I’m not negative…I just suck at everything.
My school is the zoned school for our local children’s home. I actually tried to get a job there before I started teaching, but it wasn’t meant to be. Instead, I’ve worked with several of the kids in the classroom. They are interesting children from some challenging backgrounds. Some have been placed long-term by parents who could not or would not accept the responsibility of parenting. Others are there temporarily due to parental abuse or neglect or incarceration. Still more are living their lives in a group home, waiting for adoptions that may never happen because the parents wait too long to relinquish their rights.
It’s a rough life. Many of the children there have learning disabilities and emotional handicaps that impair their ability to function in society. They struggle with learning and practicing what most of us find routine and this results in a world where physical fights abound, the meal table is a battlefield, and the question, “Is it my turn to go home yet?” hover in the air. I cannot imagine the emotional pressure of living in this environment.
And yet, these children are in my mind tonight for a different reason. I know that local business and schools “adopt” the home by giving them food and toys and clothing. They wear name brand (albeit used) clothing, own Playstations and portable DVD players and MP3 players. I’ve watched groups go through and paint the walls and plant flowers in the front yard. Honestly, I was stunned to hear about all they have there…all but a chance at a regular family.
Look into their eyes and you see the longing and the desperation. It’s not an easy thing to walk in their shoes. We take for granted the little things that our parents taught us, like “cover your mouth when you cough” and “it’s not nice to stare.” The world is a little scarier when you don’t have someone there to tell you, “everyone feels this way at 13″ and “things will get better”. What do you cling to when your anchor is missing or gone?
And so they will drift. And we will throw more “things” at them because the world is imperfect and filled with opportunists and cowards. We’re too afraid of lawsuits and hurt feelings and protecting the rights of people who choose to be indifferent. And yes, I’m being judgmental because I’m sick and tired of hearing the whine, “Why didn’t anyone do anything?” The answer isn’t pretty…and we don’t like the ugly answers.
Please, hug your kids tonight. Tell them that you’re proud of the person they are and that you believe in them. There are too many children in this world who won’t have that opportunity today or tomorrow or next week. And it’s the most important “thing” we can possibly give them.
