Another one lost to the world of crime

Yesterday was not only the low point of my teaching career thusfar, but it was a pretty scary day. It began at the very end of lunch when one of my second period students, A, came to talk to me. He is a good kid, but very disruptive in class because he doesn't understand the work. He is many, many years behind in school and barely reads. He's overaged for a 9th grader, but is not as mature as most 9th graders. Anyway, he came into my room all worked up and started rambling about his friend's bag, how he had the friend's bag, and then was told there was a gun in it, and now "they" are looking for him. I generally have a hard time understanding what he's saying, and it was extremely difficult to follow his story, but he kept saying "they're looking for me, you've got to help me, I can't go to class, have to stay here," etc. He was very emphatic to the point of grabbing my arms and saying, "Ms R, you gotta help me." I really had no idea what was going on, but two of the other teachers came to my door (as my fourth period class is showing up, no less) and told me not to let this student leave my room.

So I he had a seat, the other two teachers stood at the door, and I tried to get my fourth period class started. A few minutes later one of the Dean's came in and took him, and made everyone account for each bag in the room. As he left with the Dean, A gave me a terrible look - at first I thought it was anger, but after later discussing the issue with one of the assistant principals and hearing about what A told him, it was more fear.

We started with class, and then all 4 Deans and the assistant principal over discipline came into my class. They searched the classroom, searched all the kids and made them empty their bags onto the tables so they could search the belongings. My students were really worried and kept asking what they were looking for, and of course I didn't know for sure and couldn't tell them anything anyway.

After fourth period I was asked to write up everything A had said to me and I gave it to the assistant principal. He and I talked for awhile, when he told me that this student was going to jail, and then would go to an alternative school - he would not be coming back to Higgins. This bothered me a lot because I really do not think A is a bad kid, or a dangerous one. He strikes me as a kid who is easily manipulated by people smarter than him (or older) and would be easily convinced this is a good idea. I also feel like he has become the scapegoat for kids who truly do have bad intentions.

I was pretty shook up by all this, so stopped into another assistant principal's office (who earlier in the day had invited me to Thanksgiving) who is a wonderful woman and someone I really like. As unprofessional as it was, I sat and cried for awhile, and she was so supportive. She didn't mind me being upset and said it's only because I really care about my students and that it's ok to be upset. She also told me the rest of the story, that A DID have a gun with him - a loaded Beretta - all day long. He had brought it to school on the bus this morning and had it with him all day - the school found out about it when it fell out of his pants at the pep rally at lunch time. His two friends fled campus and were chased down by the cops and the principal, and A came to my room. And that means he sat in my classroom for 90 minutes this morning, with 30 other students, with a loaded gun. That made me cry more - that A had gotten into real trouble and put me and my students in a lot of danger.

My assistant principal was great - though she was very honest with me and said this won't be the first time I see a kid's life just fall apart like this. I don't think A will go back to school when he's out of jail - he already wanted to drop out - but since he has no skills he'll fall right back into this crowd (or a worse one) and will wind up dead or in jail in just a couple years. It's scary, and so upsetting. Even though there was nothing different I could have done - I hate that he came to me for help and I couldn't help him. Or that in 13 weeks I couldn't somehow fix the way he had grown up and that the world had totally shit on him in every way - not realistic, but it bothers me. It bother me that a kid like A, who truly is a sweet and kind person, never got what he needed or deserved from anyone, and he's not going to get a chance at a meaningful, productive life. And I'll always wonder what did happen to him and wish I could have done something.

One of my friends at school commented that if I wanted to quit, today was the day to do it and no one would blame me. And I was so upset and felt like this job is not worth being in danger that part of me really wanted to. And the other part of me wanted all the more to make sure that none of my other students got in the same trouble. So I'm still a teacher, though I am so grateful that in a week I have a week off. And Monday morning is going to feel very different.