Everyone had a story that can break you heart....

As I enter my sun filled classroom every morning, followed by several of my students, I am often surprised to see it so empty and tidy. The state that it is left in, on most days, closely resembles the post Hurricane Ivan houses. I've received many compliments on my neat classroom, as well as my organization, but I have come to the realization that what makes my classroom seem continually messy, untidy and unpredictable to me, are my students. Once they are removed, the room really is a different place. Every morning, my students arrive with a caseload of luggage. I am not speaking of actual suitcases, but of the baggage that weighs down their lives. Never have I seen so many burdens and hardships carried on such young shoulders. I am going to share just a few of the stories from my students that have been getting me down lately. Some I may have mentioned in earlier blogs, some are new, but the one thing I can say about my kids are that they do grow up fast, and they grow up tough, but they also have the most resilience I have ever seen, and their spirit and liveliness is enough to make me laugh on even the most upsetting of days.

(of course, all names have been changed!)
On Tuesday morning of last week Marcus walked into class, came up to my desk and said, "Boy Mrs Schneider, I saw an incident last night." I was busy shuffling through my paperwork and getting the day's lunch orders sorted, but this student's use of the word "incident" caught my attention. Always a sucker for great vocabulary used by the young, I was intrigued. Could I possibly prompt more three syllable words out of this boy? Not really listening for the story, but for the adjectives, I continued to half-heartedly listen; until I realized what he was saying. The previous night he had been at the Barber Shop, in the chair when outside two men got into an altercation and guns were brandished. One thing led to another, and one of the men pulled out a knife as well, stepped forward and stabbed the other man. He ran off before the police arrived. The bloody victim entered the barbershop where he then waited for the ambulance. My poor ten year old Marcus had witnessed the entire thing. He told the story so matter of factly that I had to prompt him for more details and inquire into how he felt. The part that broke my heart was when he told me "I was so scared, my knees were a-knockin'." By mid day the story was old news... maybe kids had similar experiences, or maybe it wasn't that abnormal, but I was still shocked when the story showed up headline in the news the next day- with the whole incident exactly as Marcus had dictated.

Jose is a prankster in my class. The best natured child I have ever met. He laughs at anything and I had never seen him lose his cool. He is one of those boys that likes to stay after school and either help me out in the class, or finish up his homework. Lately he has been displaying some unusual behaviours, like mock tantrums, persistent calling out and a few little fights with classmates. I called home three weeks ago, when the behaviour first started, and he returned the next day with a huge blue bruise the length of my forearm on his thigh, that he showed me. When I asked him if that was the only place he had been struck, he responded with "no, but it was where I got it the worst." Spankings and what the kids call "beatings" are as normal here as time out is in Canada. But this instance I was worried. I decided not to call home again, and deal with it in class. The other day I sat down again with Jose and asked him why is was acting out lately. He told me a bitterly sad story about how his mom had made him go into the gas station to put minutes on her cell phone account, but when he was entering her number, he accidentally entered the last digit incorrectly. He told his mom who then, in his words "smacked me this away and that a-way until I didn't remember my name!" (told while he is laughing at the memory). Appalled, but thinking perhaps his mom was upset about losing a lot of money, I asked how many minutes he had purchased. It was $5 worth.

Taniyah jumped enthusiastically over to my desk last Thursday. "Guess what Mrs. Schneider," my top reader and excellent speller asked. "We just found out yesterday that my Daddy got 18 years in prison. I'm sad. Thats long. I'll visit... I guess."

When reminding my students that their parents will have to come in to pick up their reports next month, Jason comes over and reminds me that it will be his mother coming in. His father was recently sent to prison for trying to light her on fire, along with the office of a touristy condominium on 7 mile Beach. He also recently divulged that this was his father's second trip back, as he had previously tried to kill his aunt (his own sister) by stabbing her in the head.

Danya always meets me at the my car door each morning, eager to help carry in my supplies. Last Friday she was eager to be let in the classroom so she could put down her heavy pack. Knowing, for a fact, that Danya NEVER does her homework and doesn't bring lunch, I asked what could possibly be in her backpack that was that heavy. "Well," she rolled her eyes breathlessly "Its because...." she lowers her voice to a whisper, " I've been wearing it since 6:00 when I got to school." Her mother was out of town and her sister made her walk to school that early so that she could catch the bus into the highschool in town.

Two of my students have been buddy-buddy since the beginning of the year. One day, Cariah tells me that it is because they are cousins. A few weeks later, her buddy Dayton's father comes in. I mentioned something about the two of them being close cousins, but received an odd look from the father. The next day I pulled Cariah aside and asked if they were really cousins. She explained that because her real dad was perpetually driving drunk and getting abusive with her mother, her mother had in turn fallen in love with Dayton's dad. The whole ordeal was hush hush though, since Dayton's dad was just getting out of a marriage too.

These are just a few of the more recent stories that have arisen from home, but it is mentally and emotionally exhausting to listen to these stories every day. To see students sent to school 2 hours early and picked up three hours late. To come with no food and be told that the only thing left in their house that morning was beer and ice cream. To watch 7 reports lie in my cabinet for months because the parents don't care enough to collect them, or are embarrassed because they can't read. Of course, I have repeated only the sad stories. The highlights will be another entry. The one thing I would like to emphasize though, is that despite all of the obstacles, most of these children still care so deeply for one another, and have amazing senses of humour and show a maturity that the kids back home don't and heaven forbid ever will have.