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Tag Archives: Culture

17 – Underprivileged and Oversexed

An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth…I think this guy is SICK (in EVERY sense of the word)!

As he speaks, he warns his viewers that he is going to announce names…names of the people he has PURPOSEFULLY infected with HIV…the muscles all over my body tense. Why? I know that he’s not going to call my name. But what if he calls the name of someone I actually know? Ugh!

…And then it is roll call…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen-year-olds…he names virgins…males…he is indiscriminate as to how he spreads his liquid hatred…I am incredulous…my bones are trembling beneath my skin…this has touched me, and not much does these days…

Then I began to THINK about what he was saying…albeit sick, disgusting, uncomfortable, etc. to face…what he is saying (his reasoning) needs to be dissected because I have teen-aged students, nieces, and cousins whom of which I would never want to encounter the likes of this “man.”

As a teacher, I hear “talk.” Yes, the kids think I’m too old to know what they’re talking about…but most times (in this inner-city environment) they have no reverence for my age because their mother is my age, too…which is too young to have a teen! Their mother is their “friend”…or something of that strange sort. Where I teach, girls get pregnant and have babies like I refill my monthly allergy prescriptions! And the thought always crosses my mind…Why didn’t they use a condom before having sex? In fact, I remember a male student of mine asking me why I did not have any children…I explained that I was waiting for marriage. He looked confused…VERY confused! Then he said, “You wait, one day it will just happen.” And I said, “This is 2008! There’s no reason as to why something like that should just happen! Catch my drift?” He nodded and looked away. That was the end of that conversation.

These girls are LUCKY to only get pregnant and not contract any of the other sexually contactable and non-returnable goodies…and by non-returnable I mean that there is no pill, powdered drink, or salve that will return that bad decision-made-tangible to the clinic! My students talk about the sex they have with their boyfriends…who are oftentimes GROWN-ASS MEN…I had a student proclaim, in the middle of class, “Ms. Friendly, I’m a hoe! You wanna know how many n***s I done fucked?”

Another student, on Valentine’s Day said, “I love my man cause he pays for all of my abortions and then he takes me to Red Lobster.” …Her “man” is twenty-six and she is fifteen, the same age as the prior student I mentioned.

I have a male student who pretends to like girls, but REALLY like boys…in fact, he prefers GROWN MEN! He told one of my colleagues, “I can’t take being around you anymore because I really want to fuck you.” My colleague, of course, called the student’s mother for a parent/teacher conference. The mother said, “Sometimes *Steve doesn’t come home at night because he is spending the night with strange men.” Oh my God! And she knows this?

So what happens when/if one day these kids ever come across the likes of this HIV-spreading sicko?

As a community of parents and teachers, I believe we must do a better job of providing REALISTIC information for teens about sex. Not that crap about: Don’t do it! That shit may have worked for me because…well…have you met my family? (lol) But not everyone has a family unit like the one I grew up with…real talk. And if we want to keep these kids safe (and I do), then we have got to learn how to talk to them…REALISTICALLY!

This sicko says that it is the ghetto, inner-city mentality of wanting a man with an expensive car, money, and nice clothes that gave these people HIV…not him. He claims that these girls gave themselves, without abandon, for want of the material…and I understand what he is saying…and what if those same girls had better self-esteem, role models, goals…something else to set their sights on other than the attainment of a guy in a Jaguar?

Okay adults…I am giving you some homework here. Refer back to post #9, note the picture…the theme…get your head out of your ass and TALK to your kids; It may save their life one day!


 
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Posted by on May 5, 2008 in Work

 

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16 – Would You Answer This Ad?

Would you answer this ad?

NEW ORLEANS — Wanted: Idealistic teachers looking for a Peace Corps-style adventure in a city in distress.

I know…I know…It sounds good, but don’t believe the hype! “Adventure” is quite a stretch in the use of euphemism. My experience has been anything short of an “adventure.” When I think of the word “adventure,” I think of fun on the tangy side!

Besides…anything that is described as a “Peace Corps-style adventure”…yet takes place in America…sounds scary to me!

Norman Smith III, recruited to Rabouin High, said he wanted to make a difference in the lives of kids wary of authority and uncertain of their potential. It has been tough at times, he said.

Smith is right…and tough is understatement! Finding QUALIFIED teachers who are willing to commit to such conditions is close to impossible. The school where I teach employs recruits from Teach for America. One stipulation of TFA is that the candidate must commit to one school site for two years…and before being placed at the school site, TFA candidates are given a summer-long crash course in teaching.

When I first met the TFAers in orientation, I took one look at them and thought Oh…You’re going to be eaten alive! Ironically, it has been the veteran teachers who have had more problems than the TFAers…granted, the vets are equipped with the teaching experience…but the TFAers have the magic ingredient – IDEALISM!

The two TFAers I work with are phenomenal people who (I think) will take their experiences at this hell hole and (hopefully) make a larger mark on the world…but they won’t stay in the field of teaching. Idealism is plentiful when you know it has a shelf-life! I hope this place does not suck them as dry as it has sucked me.

Many of the schools inherited by the state were run down even before Katrina, plagued by leaky roofs, lead paint or poor heating systems. Many of the students are indifferent to learning or are far behind, with some freshmen unable to read and some teenagers disappearing for days. Some have been arrested for fighting with each other or beating up security guards. Some schools lack classroom supplies.

Save for the lead paint, the school mentioned in the above quote sounds like a shoe-in for where I work. From my perspective as a vet, there’s not enough IDEALISM in the world to convince me that this situation is acceptable…especially since I know that this school system has recently received largesse from a wealthy philanthropist (to the tune of $3 Billion)…no school in this school system should be without anything, and our security systems should be tip-top! I feel like I work in a third world country.

At Rabouin High, which has about 600 students, the halls echo with the shouts of teenagers who should be in class. Many have to share textbooks, if they have them at all. Doors lack knobs or, in the case of a girls’ bathroom, don’t close completely. Students have to pass through a metal detector to get inside, and guards patrol the halls.

You would almost have to see it with your own eyes to believe it, but YES! IT IS TRUE!!! If someone told me, a year ago, that a school like where I work exists, I would never believe them. This is real, folks! In fact, it is so real it makes me wonder why politicians don’t take more interest in the welfare of education, or why the N.A.A.C.P. doesn’t pick up this cause…a REAL cause (more to come on that topic)!

 
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Posted by on May 2, 2008 in Work

 

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15 – A Piece of Humble Pie

I almost walked out yesterday.

I have never taught somewhere and felt the urge to just grab my belongings and leave…I am not a quitter, but I am not a masochist either!

I looked around the pandemonium of what was doubling as a “class” and “students”…and I just could not take any more of the loud noise (louder than a seven-year-old’s birthday party at ChuckE Cheese), I could not take anymore of the “chemical warfare” (students repeatedly spraying perfume in the air), I could not take any more of the extreme disruptive behavior (students yelling obscenities, hitting each other, mocking each other, the extreme horseplay, and NEVER doing any work)…everything is a joke to them!

I hated them ALL! Then…I went by the Spanish teacher’s room; there’s something about that woman that always puts me in a better mood…she has a wonderful way with the kids and her humor is as dry as the Sahara (my kinda gal)…so I went by for a little escapism. We discussed the ins-and-outs of making churros (very intellectual) until a former student of hers stopped by to visit.

I had never noticed her before; she was one of our school’s up and coming 2008 graduates…she looked twelve! I mean…seriously! Sometimes, the seniors don a superficial “look” of maturity, but this young lady did not.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to go to prom,” she stated rather matter-of-factly to La Professora. She didn’t sound all angsty like most teens would. It was a statement. In fact, it was the un-angsty-ness of her voice that made me look at her…REALLY look at her. She was wise beyond her years and she wore all of her wisdom in the deep, mysterious onyx pools of her eyes. Her eyes told the tale of a girl far older than the age of eighteen. She began to weave her tale as to why she may be missing prom and why she had missed the last three weeks of school.

Her mother had been very ill and she was responsible for taking care of her mother, Sara* continued…she said her mother had Cervical Cancer, Bells Palsey, and Rheumatoid Arthritis…and her mother is only thirty-six! WOW! Then Sara said that due to the severity of her illnesses, her mother has been preparing her and her two younger sisters for her possible, impending death.

Oh…but WAIT…it gets worse!

Sara has to move out of the three-bedroom apartment she shares with her mother, step-father, two younger sisters, a dog, and a cat…their rent is subsidized so they only pay $87.00…and Sara says that the Section 8 Housing reps make regular check-ups to ensure that no one eighteen or older is living in the apartment while not either in school or employed. Currently, Sara is neither of the two.

After that, my ears were lit with information I never knew any eighteen-year-old to know of…Sara’s biological father is in jail, soon to be released – he was incarcerated because he snapped the neck of a man who was in the act of attempting rape on Sara. Sara said that her father will be released within one month. Sara spoke very strongly of taking care of her family and assuming her mother’s role as caretaker…she admitted that she has already stepped in several times (unbeknownst to her mother) and provided monetary largesse. Sara said that between the ages of thirteen and fifteen, she sold drugs and would place a large percentage of her earnings in her mother’s purse when her mother was not paying attention…Sara said that it was easy for her to get away with selling drugs when she was younger because police officers never took her seriously…she said she looked nine or ten when she was thirteen.

As the tales of her enthralling life began to wind down, and the time for the end school approached, I asked Sara the one question that was burning within me.

“In retrospect of everything you have said here today about your life…How does education fit onto your list of things-that-are-important?”

She did not hesitate to answer, “Education is my only way out. I will be the only person in my family, except for my younger sisters, to graduate from high school and get a diploma…And I don’t plan on stopping with that! After getting my diploma, I want to go to massage therapy school, and then to college to get my degree.”

I nodded my head in silence. I was humbled by the tone of motivation I detected in her voice…she reminded me of WHY I wanted to work in the inner-city. I wanted/expected to meet students like her…people who WANTED help to help themselves. Sara is the anomaly.

…And to think I thought I had it bad…

*Names have been changed to protect identity.

 
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Posted by on May 1, 2008 in Work

 

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14 – Dorothy, We’re Not in Kansas Anymore!…Or Are We?

8-year-old arrested, accused of hitting teacher

HA! They get younger and younger! However, that’s the thing I think many parents do not recognize…teen and adolescent behavior is a direct reflection of early childhood rearing. I hear so many of my students say,

“My mama can’t tell me what to do!”

“I drink with my mama.”

“I hit my mama.”

“I ain’t never had no spanking.”

“My mama ain’t never beat me.”

“My mama beat me with (fill in the blank)”

…and I teach high school…

“Little” eight-year-old Deshawn Williams got into a physical altercation with another classmate over a box of crayons…apparently chairs became projectile objects, classmates were hit, and the teacher was struck in the face when he did not get what he wanted. Deshawn ended up in the back of a police car, while wearing the latest fashion the penal system had to offer – handcuffs!

The thing I find most disturbing about this story is what Granny Dorothy had to say about her grandson’s behavior:

  • “He gets very upset and he loves to hit,”
  • “If he was overpowering her that much, I feel like she shouldn’t be in that line of work,”
  • “If she can’t deal with him, put him in someone else’s classroom. If it’s a male, whatever, and let them restrain him,”

And obviously, we really are NOT in Kansas anymore, Dorothy!

I wonder if Granny D is familiar with the other “D” word?

Discipline! Whatever happened to good old-fashioned discipline? Permissiveness (sorry Dr. Spockers) and child abuse are obviously NOT what I’m suggesting because the two are so far from discipline. It is evident, from the behavior of my students, that their parents never provided discipline. Perhaps some of their parents abused them…slapped them around and inducted them into the world of hard knocks…perhaps their parents were absentee…either way, this type of faulty parenting is like a medieval scourge descending upon our society! Soon enough we will be living a rendition of Lord of the Flies…no adults and every child for himself.

Alas! There is something else that is bothering me about this particular case in light of all the newly surfaced stories of juvenile anarchy…this Deshawn kid attends an “exceptional school,” which means that his behavior could be a tad bit excusable if there are considerable emotional disabilities involved.

  • Why was he arrested and not the kid who attacked Jolita Berry or the kid who attacked Felecia Williams?
  • Should allowances be made for Deshawn Williams if he is truly emotionally disturbed?
  • Do parents realize how many Emotionally and Behaviorally Disturbed (EBD) students are mainstreamed into the regular education classroom with their student due to No Child Left Behind?
  • Do parents realize that the regular ed. teacher is not fully equipped to handle the outbreaks of these students…and therefore, instruction suffers because the regular ed. teacher spends 80% of valuable instruction time “putting out fires?”
  • Do parents realize that the special education staff is often times over-worked, and are not always going to be present in a student’s class to offer assistance (assistance they are not highly qualified in)?

Oh my…I think I’m airing all the dirty laundry…and boy is it dirty…

 
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Posted by on April 28, 2008 in Work

 

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13 – What Do the Classroom and Jerry Springer Have in Common?

Thanks, Red Pill, for calling this one to my attention!

An Atlanta inner-city teacher is tag-teamed by a mother/daughter duo in an on-campus beating involving a textbook, grades, and “sporadic attendance.”

Georgia Mother and Daughter Charged in Teacher Attack – FOXnews.com

WOW!

There are sooooo many things wrong with that picture…I don’t know where to begin! Okay, so we know the basics (at least enough of what the school system is willing to divulge to the news)…allow me to offer a behind-the-scenes perspective.

On the day of the incident, Williams says the pair walked into her classroom during class and began arguing about a book.

Okay, that would be true! I have seen parents and whomever else roaming the halls as they please. In fact, TODAY marks the third time within an entire school year that I have seen the campus police. Our Fearless Leader never leaves his office long enough to know what is happening in the hallways, and if he were in the halls while an act of terror were being committed against teacher OR student…he would be of little to no assistance.

Once again, I will state this once again…There.Are.No.Consequences.

A colleague of mine has had a similar thing happen to her…she had a parent walk in to her classroom while she was teaching…and the parent began to argue with her about a progress report grade! My colleague said that she could not believe that she had to ward off a parent while she was trying to teach.  She could not believe that she was in her classroom attempting to preserve HER safety, as well as the safety of her students…moreover, she could not believe that she had to do it alone! No one came to her aid.

  • The panic buttons in our rooms are not connected to anything
  • There is no emergency attack plan that has been put into place via the Administration
  • Our cell phones do not receive any signals
  • There are no visible campus police officers
  • Most teachers have no means of which to lock their class room door (no key)

The teacher says she asked them to leave, but the mother pushed past her and grabbed a book off her desk. According to a police report, when Williams tried to get the book back, the mother pulled the teacher’s hair and threw her to the ground. Then the mother and daughter stomped on the teacher.

While my colleague got off “easy” in the end result, that was not the end of that particular parent. Recently, this parent returned to campus…to a different classroom…and discussed (with students, no less) all the types of bodily harm she planned to inflict upon my colleague. Students say the parent said,

She must not know that I will fight for my child!!!!

Yes…a PARENT said that…so now we understand where students get the idea that fighting is the only way to resolve differences.

Atlanta Public Schools spokesman Joe Manguno says Atlanta school officials have also permanently expelled the girl and ordered her to pay $500 toward the teacher’s medical expenses.

The question I have is: How many times was Ms. Williams ignored by the Administration BEFORE the Thornton Tag Team beat the crap out of her? I’m sure some types of complaint(s) or concerns regarding teacher/student safety were waged well before imminent danger approached. Also, I am as equally sure that her concerns/complaints were ignored because that’s what THIS Administration does best!

Expulsion and $500 is a slap-in-the-face to a professional! If I were Ms. Williams, I would sue that school system! That decree is not real justice because that student will be re-enrolled by next Fall and Ms. Williams probably will never see her $500.

What I am burning to know is sense when has this type of behavior become acceptable? Too much Jerry Springer? Maury Povitch? Is this a socio-economic staple? An issue of poor family structure? I would dare not say that it is an issue of race because I am a black woman…and I do not, have never, and was not raised to act in that manner…so what gives?

 
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Posted by on April 25, 2008 in Work

 

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12 – Ms. Friendly, What Grade Do You Think I Deserve?

My classroom this morning…

The sound of cell phones vibrating against desk, students yelling the lyrics of their favorite “songs,” while lacing in a few of their favorite vocabulary words …

Let me see ya make ya bootie talk

…Use ya bootie muscles…

…Shit…Fuck… (they get to curse with impunity, but I don’t)

My students are discussing the latest celebrity gossip while passing around centerfolds from their Vibe Crush magazines…they’re not doing the assigned work, which makes the preceding comments from my students all the more comical!

I was accosted with the following question, “Ms. Friendly, what grade do you think I deserve?”

I responded with, “You deserve the grade you make.”

So she reared her full weight back on to her hips…I guess I didn’t answer the question the way she wanted me to. I must admit, it was kind of difficult to take her seriously while her hairstyle resembled that of a Bird of Paradise…first micro braided, and then twisted into four corn rowed sections on the top of her head…with a smattering of blond and black chunks of highlights.

Once again she asked me, “Ms. Friendly, what grade do you think I deserve?” The emphasis was different this time.

I remained calm. First period…8:30AM…It was too early for this shit.

I responded with, “You deserve the grade you make.” …again…(I know I already said that before)

“No, but what do you think I deserve? ME?”

I sighed. Did she not get that grades are not a personal issue or a popularity game? Bird of Ghetto Paradise started a domino effect. All of the other birds in the jungle began to chatter.

I heard choruses of: “Yeah, because YOU GAVE me a 20.” “I don’t think I deserved a 78.” “She GAVE me a 54.”

I interjected, “I don’t GIVE grades! You EARN them!”

And they didn’t get it! …I have never seen a group of students who held a sense of entitlement when they have done absolutely NOTHING! The politics of inner-city “learning” is complicated because from the outside, it seems as though the kids are being educated…but if you take a magnifying glass and scrutinize the situation, you realize that those kids are just being passed along. I actually had a colleague, who has worked many years for this school system, tell me that he believes in just passing the kids along because he doesn’t want to be bothered with the obnoxious reactions of the parents. I was nonplussed. How could he confide in me such a detestable philosophy? “Teachers” like him are what makes my expectations seem so unrealistic to students.

And then there’s the administration…(you know I have to talk about them)…In this school system, a student cannot fail a class if he has not signed a notice form. When that policy was made aware to me, I thought it was a joke…or at least a soft threat with a loop hole in favor of the integrity of honest grades and real education. I had never worked anywhere that enforced such a policy as LAW, and I had worked in three other school systems before coming to this one. So when Judgment Day approached, I was ready to place all the 18, 13, 51, 32, and 6s that my students EARNED! They NEVER did any work! I emailed my fearless leader and asked, “If I have students who did not sign failure notice forms, am I still obligated to give them a 70?” He wanted to know why those students never signed the forms. I explained to him that none of the printers or copiers at the school worked…he said that that was no excuse…WTF? Hmph…my days of out-of-pocket expense for work were OVER!!!!! I explained to him that the students were SHOWN their grades, but did not have anything to sign. He told me that I had to pass them.

I then had students who had the nerve to challenge WHY they received a 70, once we all returned to school after Winter Break. I thought it was comical. The sense of entitlement was astronomical! They were under the impression that showing up to class and having a pulse would guarantee an automatic “good” grade. HA! I was more than happy to burst their bubbles and show them what they REALLY made…and WHY! Most of them were silenced into a state of embarrassment (that only lasted like five seconds)…but at least they saw what they EARNED.

But didn’t that just further feed their obnoxious sense of entitlement? Now, will they just think that some stroke of luck will always kick and save them? In my world, the grade you get is the grade you earn.

 
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Posted by on April 21, 2008 in Work

 

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11 – Disturbing Observations of Student Culture

Last weekend, I was invited to the housewarming of my friend’s brother. I had not seen this particular friend in five years, and I did not know his brother…but I was still excited about the invite.

The day before the housewarming, I received directions from my friend’s cousin, and my heart almost plummeted one thousand feet into the earth…I had to take the same exit as my work exit! At that point, I was not entirely sure if the complex was located five minutes from the school…or fifteen minutes from the school…I did not want to panic prematurely, however, a bad taste was beginning to form in my mouth. I wanted to see my friend, so I had resigned myself to go.

I followed the directions, hoping that the complex would be farther off the exit than I was anticipating (I don’t know that area very well)…but I would not be that fortunate…the complex was a mere five minutes away from the school. When I turned into the complex, I saw students…I did not like that. Normally, I believe it is in best practices to socialize FAR AWAY from where students may be. When I found the building number, I noticed that everyone was sitting outside; that was strike two for me…I did not want to expose myself, like a sitting duck, to my students.

So, I attempted to try to settle into the afternoon. It was around five p.m., and people within the neighborhood where going about their business…

Disturbing Observation #1: A cute little girl, around the age of four, was running through the neighborhood unattended. “Where’s her mother?” I asked. Everyone there chuckled and replied, “At least she has shoes on today!” I was incredulous. She was running up and down the complex street, going in and out of different houses…and no one was supervising her. “That’s how little girls get raped,” I stated. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

Disturbing Observation #2: The little girl’s mother FINALLY makes it outside. She is “looking” for her daughter, but without any true effort. The mother is not calling her name. The mother is only walking, stumbling, along…she looked to be about seven months pregnant, MAYBE twenty-one (ish)…The mother really does not seem concerned, and I only assumed that she was looking for her daughter because I know that if it were my daughter…I would have been looking for her (for REAL looking). So, eventually, the little girl comes running out of some random apartment and into the street. The girl runs to her mother, and the mother says nothing…she does not scold or chastise her daughter for running in and out of “strange” homes, nor does she lecture her daughter about the importance of remaining in her sight at all times.

Disturbing Observation #3: There’s a teen-aged boy to the left of the town home who periodically would sit outside, look around, and then go back into his house. He had a chair set up in a nice space under a tree. In fact, his house was one of the houses that the little girl ran into. I was curious about the boy, but savvy enough to know better than to stare openly. The boy watched nothing, and yet was omniscient, simultaneously. As the afternoon wore on, the boy began to receive visitors…a motley bunch of guys who seemed to be around his age. The boys were young, some wore their hair in long spindly dreadlocks, others had their hair close shaven…they all wore extremely oversized T-shirts and jeans…one boy had on a white shirt that was so dirty that it held an orange hue…another boy wore a black shirt that had an ashen grey-like tinge…they all looked like people I would not want in my classroom…sneaking, skulking, menacing, posturing…they were up to no good!

Random people were visiting them, “dapping” them up (fist pounds), and then exiting as soon as they entered…this happened for an hour…and then the little girl…AGAIN! She zoomed in and out of houses, up and down the street of the complex, and always found her way into this busy boy-man’s house. “Is he selling drugs over there?” I asked. “They call him White Boy,” my friend replied. “White Boy? But he’s not White…he’s like mixed-race or something,” I respond. My friend laughed and shook his head. “WHITE boy…cuz he got that White.” “Ohhhhhhh!” I got it! He sold Cocaine.

Disturbing Observation #4: Around the time of my epiphany concerning White Boy’s occupational status, I notice someone in a car, who looks like one of my students. “Oh no!” I hid behind my friend, hoping my student did not see me. She lives on the other side of White Boy…opposite of where the house warming group was congregated.

Disturbing Observation #5: White Boy and his friends began to smoke weed on the front stoop of his house. “Can they do that?” I asked. My voice was full of incredulity. “Sure,” my friend responded, “Who’s going to stop them? This is a laid back living community.” …um…okay…? I immediately began to picture a police sting operation were I would be arrested upon association…Okay, NOTE: I realize that I have an over-active imagination! LOL! But I was picturing the fact that I could loose my teaching certificate by being in the wrong place at the wrong time!

Disturbing Observation #6: More people are randomly coming up to White Boy. The traffic in and out of his vicinity was higher than that of an airport’s…and the little girl continued to make sporadic visits in and out of White Boy’s place. I thought it was all so very strange. It made me so uncomfortable…Something about that little girl just running around unattended, in and out of other people’s houses, truly unnerved me. Then…to add more uncomfortabilty (not a “real” word I know) to an already uncomfortable situation, I saw ANOTHER student! Okay…time to go!

…I left soon thereafter…all of that was way too much for me. Gaining that bird’s eye glimpse into what some of my students’ lives must be like…painful…because I knew that that place was not the worst place. That place was not a housing project, but it had elements and people that I never had to deal with as I was growing up…those boy-men I saw congregated around White Boy…they were headed for a life of nothingness. They all looked so angry and defeated. What they were doing was “it” for them…the height of their achievements in life…being a dope boy. They will probably go to jail, have a few children, maybe get shot, and/or shoot someone all by the age of twenty!

The little girl…will probably get raped or molested by the time she is nine…maybe have a baby by the time she is fifteen…WHY? Because no one is watching the little ones out there!…And WHY was she running from house to house? My personal theory is that she was running drugs for White Boy.

I had seen enough.

 
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Posted by on April 20, 2008 in Uncategorized, Work

 

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