Foster

Today I was thinking about a former student that taught me a lot, I’ll call him Foster. He was a boy that I really liked and had a lot of personality but his behavior was challenging. When I taught in Amarillo I lived across town from my school so I didn’t really run into any students out of school . One evening my doorbell rang and I opened it to see Foster standing there, he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. He was selling magazines , candy, or something and I listened to his pitch and bought something I believe and didn’t think much about it. Not long after that Foster got in trouble in my classroom and got very angry, in his anger he stood up and yelled at me saying he knew where I lived and that I better watch out. It was an emotional moment that escalated and I took his outburst as a threat. Because of that I called the School Resource Officer to file a complaint. 

Since Foster was in my class we had to have an ARD to discuss this incident. I was somewhat frightened because even though Foster was young he was associated with gang members so I wanted more than anything to set an example that threats would not be tolerated. Of course after Foster calmed down he apologized but the process was already in progress and I really felt I needed to follow through. I knew this was serious and could even lead to legal consequences for my student.

I’ll never forget the day of the disciplinary ARD , I was a little nervous as we waited for Foster’s guardian to arrive. I didn’t know much about his family so I waited in the office. Moments later I saw a cab pull up and an elderly lady struggled to get out with 3 young children, probably ages 2-5 , and come into the building. When she came into the office she identified herself as Foster’s grandmother and said she had to bring the other children because there was no one to watch them. She looked so frail and scared : my heart broke a little for her. As we sat in the ARD I learned that Foster’s mother was in prison and his father was absent so he and all his siblings were being raised by his grandmother. As we started the ARD the younger children began to act up and Foster took control telling them to stop and come sit in his lap. They listened to him and obeyed , it was obvious he was an authority figure in their life. Foster’s grandmother began to cry saying she didn’t know what she was going to do and Foster told her he was sorry. His eyes filled with tears and I could see his compassion for his grandmother as he tried to assure her it would be okay. My heart broke a little more for everyone especially Foster and I had to fight back tears. It was clear his role was as caregiver to his younger siblings. He was firm yet loving and his lap seemed a familiar place for his brothers and sisters. At home he wasn’t a child anymore he had to step up and be an adult. I was overwhelmed as the picture of his home life played out in front of me. His behavior made more sense now because for the most part his behavior problems were rowdiness, playing instead of working, and not being on task. Now I knew at school was the place he could be a child , the place where he wasn’t weighed down with responsibilities . 
My mind changed in that moment and I didn’t want Foster to have any legal consequences for his threats, I just wanted him disciplined at school, I really just wanted to stop it all. The School Officer agreed with my change of mind and Foster and his grandmother were relieved. I don’t remember the school punishment he received but I’ll never forget what happened next. It always brings a smile to my face.
Foster’s grandmother asked if she could borrow a phone to call a cab and began to count the money in her old tattered coin purse . I could tell she was nervous and I think she worried she wouldn’t have enough money so I interceded and asked her if she would let me give her family a ride home. She wasn’t sure what to say but I begged her and finally said okay. So Foster , his grandmother, and his siblings jumped into my Isuzu Trooper and we started to drive to their home. On the way I had to stop for gas and asked her if I could buy everyone a treat : )) The little kids were so excited as we all went into the store and they picked their favorite candy and drink and Foster was excited too. The rest of the drive was joyous as we all talked and laughed. As I let them out in front of their modest home Foster’s grandmother hugged me and then Foster said “ Thank you Mrs. Washington, I’m really sorry”. It was a special moment forever etched in my mind. 

After that day I still had behavior problems with Foster but he never threatened me or disrespected me again. We had come to an understanding , we had connected , we had something in common: both of us at an age way too young were forced to take on the role of an adult, a caregiver, and all the responsibilities that entails in our home life. Foster was living that in the present and that was my past. I could relate to him. And when he would be rambunctious and rowdy I would have to discipline him but on the inside I was smiling because he was just being a kid and I knew how much he needed that. School was his escape , a place he could act his age and because of my history I understood the need to use school as an escape. School had been my escape in a different way. 

Foster went on to high school and I moved back to the Dallas area so I never knew what happened to him until I got to prison. In prison when I ran into some former students from Amarillo I asked about a few kids that I remembered, the ones that held a special place in my heart so I asked about Foster. I was sad to learn, but not surprised, that Foster’s life got off-track and he had become a drug dealer . One girl told me that he had been her pimp . He was now a convicted felon. My heart broke again for Foster and again I understood. I could relate because I too sat in a prison , a convicted felon as well. Not sure where it all went wrong for either of us but I had an idea. All I knew is for both of us it went terribly wrong. Although we were so very different we were a lot alike.

Wrong Way- Go Back

Jeremiah 6:16 Yet the Lord pleads with you still: Ask where the good road is, the godly paths you used to walk in, in the days of long ago. Travel there, and you will find rest for your souls. But you reply, “No, that is not the road we want!” 

When I think back to those moments of life altering decisions I wish there had been a sign this clear but honestly I don't know if I would have seen it because I was so full of justification and rationalization I was just digging my own grave. I'll never forget the moment. It was May 2002 and I had about 13 months clean . I DECIDED to go visit my old "friends" they were my old drug dealers. I rationalized this horrible decision saying I just want to see how they were doing, shooting down each red flag as soon as they popped up . I'll never forget sitting in the living room ( I remember what I was wearing) and them offering me drugs. I paused for just a moment before I used but the voice of the enemy was louder than the voice of truth because I had already believed the lie and went there in the first place. I DECIDED to use and the rest is history. Within three weeks I was using worse than before and had a new drug charge. Within two months I was locked up with my probation revoked on my way to prison. That decision started a destructive domino effect . 

Jeremiah 6:16 is powerful . So before you make a decision that could alter your life and the lives of others pray and seek God. One sign that always stops me in my tracks is when I begin to rationalize and justify , I then know I am most likely going the wrong direction!!!

Michael

The story I shared earlier about a former student  reminded me of another student at a different time in my career. When I knew Spencer (from the other day) I was in a really good place or so it seemed. I was the Special Education Coordinator for the district and things were going well in my life. I was really proud of that position and I was making a difference bringing change to their Special Education Program. This of course was before Kathey was diagnosed with terminal cancer and my drug addiction took over. Let’s now jump forward 3 years. At the end of the 2000 school year I was asked to resign from that position that I was so proud of because I was not a good employee anymore. I was late, missed work, and I was basically falling apart. 
By the grace of God , who I didn’t even acknowledge, I got a job teaching in Garland. The problem was I was a total mess. Kathey’s death had destroyed me and by this time I was using meth every day trying to numb my pain. There is no excuse for my drug use but even in the midst of my breakdown I loved my students, I still think about them today. I taught a Life Skills class that year and worked with moderately to severely challenged students. Many were in wheelchairs and some wore diapers. I had a boy named Michael who really touched my heart , he was a quadriplegic. He was the sweetest boy and one of the highest functioning in my class. Because of his physical disabilities he wore diapers and I would take him down to the classrooms for the most severe and medically fragile students to change him. There were lifts to help because it wasn’t easy lifting a 17 year old boy from a wheelchair to a changing table . It was not a comfortable job either but my main concern was Michael. I didn’t want him to feel any embarrassment or shame during this time so we talked a lot. We talked about his life and my life . We would wind through the halls having deep conversations and he would share his heart with me. 
At the beginning of the year Michael lived in a group home because his grandmother could not take care of him anymore, it got to the point where she couldn’t lift him to change his diaper . Both his parents had died in a car accident when he was younger and that is how he came to live with his grandmother. One day as we traveled down to the changing room Michael began to cry and I asked him what was wrong. He told me he had just learned that he was going to have to leave the group home and move into a nursing home because now the group home couldn’t handle his needs. He was so sad to leave his friends and he didn’t want to live in a nursing home at the age of 17. My heart broke and I cried for him not understanding why he had to endure so much hardship and now more pain. I also cried because I couldn’t do anything to change his circumstances and I was just so sad about it all. 
But he was a Christian and talked about God a lot, especially that day . That day through tears he talked about Heaven and how when he got there he wouldn’t be limited by his wheel chair anymore, he wouldn’t have to wear diapers, and he talked about how he would be reunited with his parents who he missed but barely remembered. I’ll never forget his faith and his eyes shining through those tears. He said “Mrs. Washington you will get to see your sister again one day and your mom and brother too “ Through my own tears I smiled at him wishing I had his faith and that I believed what he said. But I didn’t because I was so lost at the time and I had no foundation to build upon. I wanted what I saw in his eyes but I didn’t know how to get it and I just felt so tired and worn. 

Not long after that I got arrested and I never saw Michael again. I learned he died in the summer of 2001 just a few short months after he shared his faith with me. When I learned that news I was really sad because I would have liked to have seen him, all of them, and apologize for not being a good teacher that year , for letting them down when they needed consistency. I never got that chance but when I see Michael in Heaven I will hug his neck and let him know. And when I think of Michael in Heaven, and I know he is there, I see him running through the streets of gold with his arms outstretched as if to fly. He is free now, free from the chains of his paralysis and the thought of that makes me smile. So very thankful God placed him in my life at such a dark time and protected this memory. Fly high Michael and say hello to my Alexis Rose Washington.

Acceptance

Recently  I was reminded of a student I taught years ago. When I taught in a small district outside of Commerce I taught a boy with Aspergers. He was extremely high functioning ( when he learned I lived in Rockwall he managed to memorize the Rockwall phone book from A-Z) but he really struggled socially. He had a brilliant mind and was an extremely gifted writer although his writings weren’t appropriate at times. He amazed me. I'll call him Charles and when I first got to this district he was 16 and in 10th grade. His family didn’t have running water at their home so baths were far and few between. His typical school clothes were thin pajama bottoms with whatever t shirt he could find. His clothes were usually too small, he smelled , and sadly he was often the butt of jokes from the other students. My heart broke for him and what made it especially hard was that he was aware that he was different. All he wanted was to belong and be accepted by the “In” crowd but most the school shunned him in a way that was somewhat surprising because of the cruelty especially with the challenges he had . I didn’t understand how they could be so mean to him and I wanted to make a difference. This was something I wanted to change and although I really didn’t know how I set out to try anyway. The first thing I did was get him some clothes that fit and were somewhat stylish. I basically got him blue jeans, polo type shirts, and tennis shoes that had belonged to my husband. Plus I talked to the administrators and arranged for Charles to be able to shower in the mornings before school started when needed. I’ll never forget the first day after he showered and put on his “new” clothes. He came to my room and was beaming with pride. I felt so very happy for him. At least that would cut down on the ridicule about his clothes and his body odor but I couldn’t make the other students accept him so I tried my best to create that for him in my classroom . We worked diligently on some of the behaviors that were causing some of the ridicule. When Charles would get upset he would begin to pace and flap his arms talking to himself. This caused him problems in the lunch room setting as he would pace faster and flap harder the more upset he got . One day some of the kids did something to upset him at lunch and they kept on and on agitating him until he was a wreck. I was mortified and demanded that the students be punished . I just didn’t get why they did this, it was awful to pick on anyone but in my mind it was worse to pick on him because he didn’t have the skills to stand up for himself. That day I took Charles to my room and calmed him down leaving him to type one of his stories as I met the students who bullied him in the principal's office. As the disciplinary session started the sullen boys just sat there as if they didn’t care and I lost it, I completely lost my composure and began to cry for that sweet boy who just wanted to be accepted. This took the boys and the principal by surprise as I begged them just to be nice to him and look past his differences and challenges and try to get to know him a little bit. When I was done I was somewhat embarrassed by my breakdown but surprisingly it worked and the boys apologized to me for being so mean to him promising me they would stop. The bottom line was that they really didn’t understand him , he seemed so smart but acted so different. That was a turning point for Charles and although he was never really accepted he wasn’t rejected and ridiculed very often anymore and some of the students took time to talk to him and get to know him. This was what he wanted ; to be a part of the school in someway and not completely on the outside. I could see a change in Charles after that and although he still struggled socially things were much better and he felt better about himself . As his confidence grew and his social problems lessened he spent less and less time in my room. Charles contacted my through Facebook a couple of years ago happy to hear I was doing well. He knew of my legal problems and addiction from reading the Dallas Morning News and Rockwall Paper. He contacted me again after Alexis died letting me know he was praying for me. He still lives at home with his parents but has graduated from college and told me he was going to start a blog sharing his experience of living with Autism. Charles is who I thought about today when I remembered the life impacting lesson on celebrating our differences, accepting them, and being kind to everyone plus laughing at life every time you can.

Chapter 3 - Ages 18-19 ( Part 2 )

After the fire and the spectacle of what recently happened in my life I was feeling pretty hopeless. All I knew to do was move forward the best I could. It wasn’t long after the fire episode that my mother went through the worse Delirium tremens that I had ever seen. It was night and she was in my old bedroom thrashing about in the bed and screaming that spiders were attacking her. I tried to calm her down, but knew I needed to get her to the hospital.  I had learned from experience how serious this was, that she could die, and needed immediate medical attention. My problem was getting my mother to the car by myself. She was naked, having hallucinations, and shaking violently. The thought of calling for help never occurred to me, even though at this point the neighbors knew something was wrong and I had nothing to hide.  The lingering sense of shame and embarrassment I felt were crushing. I left her room trying to think of what to do and how to do it when she suddenly got up and started running.  The hallucinations she was having were terrifying to her and me. She went out the front door and I frantically ran after her. After catching her and a lot of struggling, I got a robe on her and somehow got her in my car. We drove to Doctor’s Hospital where she detoxed. I can’t remember how long she was there, but it was at least a few days because I remember having to return to visit her. She was still very delirious, but was slowly coming out of the fog. The memory of sitting on the end of her bed at Doctor’s Hospital is still very vivid. This would be the most coherent I would see her before her death. Maybe that is why I remember it. I don’t remember talking. I just remember being with her.

I had someone ask me at the time where she got the alcohol from since she was always so drunk. I didn’t know the answer.

What I do know was we always had money and a car. Maybe she bought a lot of vodka all at once because I kept finding it hidden all over the house. I know when she ran out of vodka she would drink anything and everything that had alcohol in it…perfume, Nyquil, mouthwash, even rubbing alcohol. After detoxing at the hospital, within a day or two, she was back to being passed out every day. The senior prom was my next special event to have happen in my life. It was in May. On prom night, my date came to pick me up. My mother was passed out in the den and I think  my father was at the lake. There was no one to take my picture or see me off. When my date arrived I wanted to get out of the house as quickly as possible because I didn’t want him to see her. I was so afraid she would wake up and do something awful. He asked me about taking pictures. I just shrugged. I didn’t knowing what to do or say, I just wanted to get out of there.      

Next, high school graduation followed prom. Our school had hundreds of graduates and the ceremony seemed to go on forever. It was hot in the Dallas Convention Center. The main thing I remember is all my friends meeting their parents and families, getting hugs, and congratulations. I once again, was alone. As I walked through the crowds I looked anxiously for my father, hoping and praying he had made it there for me. I was so proud I had graduated with honors and I thought he would be proud too. I knew my mother wouldn’t be there because she was already passed out when I left my house earlier. I surely thought my dad be there for me.  He wasn’t. I was heartbroken and felt numb. No one had come to support me. As I looked around, I was certain everyone knew that no one had come for me. The hurt and pain were incomprehensible, but by this point, I was angry too. I think on some level I thought that if I achieved enough and was popular enough my parents would change and pay attention to me. Little did I know? I did not have that power. No matter how amazingly I performed, they were not going to change until they dealt with their own pain. Sadly, this never happened. That night I went to graduation parties and got very drunk. The alcohol dismissed my self control and I remember crying uncontrollably. It was a horrible feeling believing that I didn’t matter to anyone. The next day was a Sunday and I went to the lake with my boyfriend to go water skiing. We had a lot of fun and I was able to forget the pain from the day before. I arrived home fairly late that night and was exhausted. I went straight to my bedroom. After changing clothes, my mother staggered into my bedroom.