A heartbreaker.

One of my favorite students who also is one of my worst behavior problems let me hug him yesterday. It was one of those hugs that you can tell the other person just needs. You wrap your arms around and they just seem to melt – their shoulders relax and they feel comfortable with you. He never lets me hug him. If I ever try he either wiggles away laughing or worse if he is mad he will violently spin around hitting at my arms or stomping at my feet. No matter how many times my kids get mad, roll their eyes, tell me they hate the class, they don’t care what I say, or for me to get away from them I think they all know that I am on their team. I love them and care about them as students and as people. I don’t think any of them could or would want to make an argument to the contrary. When I gave the student the hug he was telling me about how his mom is on house arrest. Not a surprise to me since I did take a trip to the police station last week for him, his brother and cousin.

I walked out of school, in a hurry, heading to a meeting at the Teach For America office. When I got to the parking lot there was a bus, but the busses had already left an hour before so I knew something wasn’t right. Walking toward the bus it wasn’t hard to recognize the students wearing light blue shirts instead of the royal blue of our school uniform. They hollered my name a waved with smiles on their faces. The bus driver said she stopped at their place three different times and no one came out to pick them up. She needed to go to her next job so we began dialing all the numbers we had. Disconnected, no answer, does not accept incoming calls and finally there was a hello. A cousin, a four-year-old cousin, answering the phone at the house they stay at after school. After a few questions it was determined that no his parents could not come to the phone because they were not home. His twin brothers were home, but they couldn’t get on the line either – they are only one. Let me clarify this for you – this was a four year old at home babysitting two twin one year olds. So I began asking my student some questions;

Who is home when you get home from school? – my 4 year old cousin, the one year old twins and my little brother. How old is your brother? – 1. Three 1 year olds are at the house every afternoon? – yeah. What time does your mom get home? – 10 at night. Where is your auntie? – at work too. Are there any adults at your house? – at 10 when we go to sleep. What do you eat for dinner? – they leave us stuff to microwave or we make something. What do you make? – cereal or sandwiches. So everyday there are 7 of you home? – yeah sometimes 8.

My 9 year old is the oldest out of seven kids home from 4-10pm: 9, 7, 6, 4, 1, 1, 1. Can one-year-olds eat sandwiches? No wonder why they never do their homework. No wonder why he is angry. He is not a kid. He is a 9 year old forced to be an adult. So I hug him, I tell him how brilliant he is, I don’t give him an excuse for his behavior, but I let him walk it off in the hall where he isn’t bothering anyone, I come to school everyday, and I absolutely never quit because I can’t abandon him. And I hug him again.

The three kids were excited to crawl in the back of a police car. I wanted to cry, but I smiled anyway. They showed me the computer and asked the police officer lots of questions. They decided they all wanted to be police officers. I hope the next time they are in the police car they are in the front seat driving, not in the back. I drove to the police station. I was scared; there is something wrong when you feel that unsafe at a police station. I thought I might get jumped making my way through the abandoned cars in the back alleyway up to the trailer where I was directed. People stood outside and starred at me. I didn’t fit in, I felt nervous. I knocked on the door, no answer. The others waiting told me between their angry curses that they were in there I should knock again. I did and a man opened the door a crack – I told him I was coming to be with the students they just picked up from Fannie C. He said, “who you?” I told him I was their teacher and he shut the door. A few seconds later another man stuck his head out and said he found the mother and they were at the house. I went home.

The next morning I came in to the office to see a mug shot of their mother that one of the administrators had pulled up online and printed off. And now according to my student she is home from jail, but on house arrest. But she can still leave to go to work. So I asked so now who stays home with you and your cousins after school? –nobody, we still stay by ourselves.