For G.

For G:

I still have your tiny voice recorded as a podcast.  Although I never posted it, your story continues to haunt me.  You and I never even had a class together.  I met you in study hall.  You were reluctantly  coloring and labeling maps of Asia.

As the study hall teacher, I believed it was more important to establish a relationship with you “troubled” kids. When you started talking to me, I listened.  Teachers were indeed hassling you about your grades.  I witnessed it. Condescending intimidation for a grade. “You just color it!!!” 

Then it was quiet and just you and I chatting- you went on to tell me that at home your family does drugs.  The police and social services have been notified, and that your mom left.  I tried to not look shocked when you said  your dad put a pile of needles on the kitchen table in front of your mom- in front of you and your siblings and said “Pick!  Either drugs or your kids.”  And you said your mom just picked up the needles, didn’t say a word, and left.  You looked so numb when you said, “yea my mom wanted drugs more than us.” 

No, I didn’t remember your brother, who is now homeless.  I hear you when you say you fear the same fate. I wonder where you are now, years later, and I fear the same. 

I wish I could tell you how sad and angry I am that this system failed you so completely.  The people in your life that you should have been able to trust were not there.  Your parents, family, teachers and the do-or die- pressures of the school system failed you. 

We should have protected you.

We should have listened to you.

We should have made You a priority over your grades.

Asia? Really? That is what was so important? I agree G, it was a stupid assignment. 

I hear your voice- that raspy frail voice of a 16 year old who looks and sounds more like a 6th grader.  You came across as confident, and what I suspect is that you simply don’t have much else to lose. 

Thank you for your voice.  It motivates me to continue on this path.  You don’t know me and probably don’t remember me, but I remember you.  I want you to know someone is out there fighting for you G.  I regret not doing more, and you and I both know you are one in many- kids just like you- exhausted in a savage system. 

Follow Up: I heard you were “transferred” to another school. You were to be expelled according to drug policy’s on campus, but that looks bad on the school’s record, so you were quietly hushed out of sight. Misused, abused, again.