poverty and richness

the kids are still insane... i was sick during the early part of the week and had a hard time doing anything more than showing up... some days were better some worse...

i started to blame myself more..... buuuuut then late in the week, things started happening that are causing me to blame myself less. for one thing, the other teachers are starting to have trouble too. the other classes are getting to be more of a mess in the hallways. fights are breaking out - i haven't had one yet - though i did have to grab two kids to stop a fight from starting. and i finally got some of my students' old records - the 'bad' ones ('bad' - it's a short-hand you end up adopting - there is no time to think in subtle terms!) have been 'bad' all along. suspensions for fighting, hitting, defiance, etc.

and now for some context...

yesterday two of them forgot books at school - one on purpose, the other by accident. they both live within a couple blocks of the school so i called their homes and took the books to them.

i parked out front and surveyed the beat-up houses. nondescript boxes to begin with - cheaply made, bad windows covered with bars, old aluminum siding. everything dirty, in disrepair. bits hanging down the siding, scraping in the wind like nails on a chalkboard. bleak.

One girl was out in front of her house with some cousins and friends. She was happy to see me and asked if I wanted to meet her mother... Mom came out to greet me, 6 mos pregnant but without real maternity clothes, so, falling out of her garments all over. She tugged at her shirt to try to make it cover her belly, and moved her arms to try to cover her breasts, looking embarrassed.

I met her gaze frankly... It used to be that when I met people who seemed worried that I would look down on them, it would make me worry that I would appear to do so, and the whole thing would become unbearably uncomfortable for everyone. I don't worry anymore... I have learned that, whatever it is they fear to see in my eyes, they don't see it - when they look at my face they are reassured.

We talked briefly about her daughter, some concerns the Mom had expressed on the phone, how to meet the daughter's needs, and then I said goodbye.

On to the next house. I couldn't find the door that had the right apartment number. A child looked out at me from behind the window bars on the wrong apartment; I smiled and s/he smiled back. I looked down the tiny gangway between this house and the next, assessed the safety situation (not quite dark yet; people about fifty yards away up and down the street - close enough to provide some protection, not close enough to give trouble), and went down the gangway to try to find #3. I knocked on some doors but wasn't heard. Inside one door I heard a cacophony of loud voices - at least two adults and several younger voices - it didn't sound like a fight or a crisis, just a lot of people living together and a lot going on, in different rooms at the same time. Sounded like perpetual tension.

I went back to the sidewalk and tried phoning a couple of times. Finally got through and my student came out to meet me--came out of the door where I had heard all the loud voices. Two big young men were strolling down the sidewalk toward me as my student emerged; I assessed them and decided they were not out for trouble, but was still glad that my student's emergence validated my incongruous presence there. The student was wearing his mother's fuzzy bedroom slippers... he hardly spoke but took the book, smiling sheepishly, and returned to his house as the men passed behind me.

This is M, mentioned previously - who doesn't seem mean but seems to strike out at other students continuously. It's like he wants to be impinging on someone else, all the time. He's always poking, throwing, hitting, bugging... every child I sit him next to, asks to be moved away from him; his records show that he often hit other students on the playground - usually not a fight, just a random attack. But why doesn't he seem mean, then?

At the same time, he is often the only student to raise his hand to answer a question I ask the class. Sometimes he has no idea what the answer is - he will say anything - but he is so eager to be called upon.

He wants something. A lot. All the time. Not sure what.

I know if I had fewer students I could start to find out what emotions send his hands out in all directions. But even at home, on the weekend, I feel too tired to think hard about it, to even form a hypothesis that I could test.

Instead I run on instinct. Several times I have taken just a few moments to speak quietly to him, just whatever comes out of my mouth. Once I saw he had written 'pimp' on his notebook in big letters. I know that means something other than the meaning I am most familiar with... not sure exactly what... but I know it's not something positive. What comes out of my mouth is something like this... "Oh, now, M, why do you write something like that? You're disrespecting yourself. You don't want to just be a pimp. You can do much better than that. You are smart, you are capable, you can do great things - I'm sure all your teachers have told you that - haven't they?" (no response, but he was holding very still, for once, looking intently into the air, not looking at me but clearly listening intently - but no facial expression or other response). "Well if they haven't, they're crazy. You can become a wise, solid, strong man, like Mr. ____. Wouldn't you rather be like Mr. _____ than just be some kinda pimp?" Another time I said "I know you are not a bad kid and you can become a good man. Don't mess it up." With emphasis on 'good man.' or something like that.

I have no idea whether this is the 'right' thing to say or not. I don't have a degree in disordered child psychology. I don't have time to think about the right thing to say. But if I stay calm and centered I do find I take these moments to say something, just hoping that it will be the right thing for someone.

The students are required to wear uniforms that include a white shirt. Friday I noticed one sweet little girl's shirt was completely filmed over with grime - every thing that stuck out, every wrinkle and crease was dark gray. Then I looked up at my class and saw a whole array of dirty shirts. One little girl was not wearing her uniform shirt and I had given her a hard time. But at least she was clean. Which would I choose if I were the mother? I think I'd be with T's mom... I would not send my child to school in a dirty shirt...

Anyway.

I walked my dogs this morning and was struck by the richness of my life. Not just in material possessions but that I have a beautiful park to walk in, and that I know how to look at the leaves, the grass, enjoy the sunlight, see the little cherries reddening and falling to the ground, see the slant of light... that I know to see and love the falling water in the fountain...

And that I have in my head whole worlds, universes, wide and rich... worlds created by literature, and countries I have visited... so much richness inside. I know my students' lives are full and many of their families are loving and supportive. But they often are not allowed to leave the house because their blocks are not safe. I don't want to make a stereotype - I spent many years avoiding saying or thinking anything negative about the lives of economically deprived children - but there is a poverty of mind: a poverty of life experience, of imagination, of flavors, of colors....

Most of them are very, very observant about people. They don't miss a thing. They see every emotion that crosses my face and respond to it immediately - when i feel strong they obey me; when i feel tired, the 'bad' ones press their advantage and the 'good' ones draw me pictures and write me notes telling me they love me. (At first I thought these were cynical attempts to curry favor, but I begin to see their weird little genuineness...)

But they aren't observant about the world. The sky. The lake. The rain. That's what feels poor...

I could make some kind of p.c. comment about 'maybe there are parts of my life that would seem poor to them.' Maybe there are. But I am sad because I want to give them some of the richness that fills my interior life, and don't know quite how... I guess reading is one way... but all the materials i have to read to them, are geared to their own frames of reference... and anything i could read them about something beyond their frame of reference, they don't seem to have the ability to grasp.

I have so much to learn.

BUt that's why I chose this job.