All There Is

She was a rough kid.  Long, stringy blond hair, too much makeup and too much exposed body hanging out of pretty much everywhere.   She was one of a whole lot of rough kids in my first class at my new school: 19 boys and 4 girls in seventh grade.  There were, are, bigger personalities and better stories- but she can’t author her own anymore so this one is for B.

Of the four girls in her grade, her role was the hardest by far.  There was the smart one, the pretty one, the well-cared-for quiet one, and then there was B.  All she had going for her was tough talk and an I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude.  Those kids, kids like B, it amazes me that they get up and come to school every day.  She walked; she could easily have gone somewhere else or blown the whole thing off, I doubt her mom would ever have cared.

The one and only time I met the mom was when I was called in for a conference with her and my principal- the purpose to address my poor treatment of her.  The mother, not B. She said I had given her a “dirty look” during Back to School Night because, “I think you’re just jealous of my big boobs.”  I’m not kidding.  That was the conference. Welcome to teaching.

B had warned me prior to the meeting- said “My mom thinks you look down on her.  I told her you’re not like that, you’re cool.”  High praise from this child.  And early on too. The only other things that I really remember about her were when she was caught during tech time in a chat room with a random guy, and when she gave me a hug the next year when I saw her downtown one night..

Several years later she was shot and killed by the police after trying to run them over during a traffic-stop gone bad.  She was probably 18.

Colleagues sometimes chide me for my investment in kids like B.  And they bring her up as an example of how my time and energy there won’t change anything.  “Put that energy into kids who are going to make a difference in the world.  Don’t let the leeches suck you dry.”  And it can be easy to go there.  High stakes testing, crowded classrooms, limited resources, aging energy, straight-up societal values push hard towards abandoning the bottomless pit of generational poverty and dysfunctional need.

My father, retired professor quoting Camus, says that in times like these we are called upon to guard against the evil in ourselves.  I’m doing my damnedest.  I just won’t give up on any of them.  Because even if the end is ugly, the right now can be a glimmer of self-respect and a hug.  And I don’t know, I guess it’s cliche’, but right now might be all there is.