I had a potentially scary incident today.
Imagine the scene: my students are chatting in homeroom or doing their homework in the morning. I'm at my computer organizing info for the day. Suddenly a 30-something man, dressed in khakis and a pullover Notre Dame jacket appears at my door.
"Hey, I need a volunteer to come be in a video for me."
My head pops up in surprise. What? Um, can we start with, "Hi, my name is ____"?
Before I can even get words formed, Ellie, a bubbly eighth grade girl bounces out of her chair and over to the still-unidentified man.
They proceed down the hall as I dart after them.
"Um, excuse me! Where are you going?" No response. I monitor Ellie's movement down the stairs outside the 7th grade homerooms, her ponytail bopping back and forth merrily.
What if I just let her slip through my fingers and into the hands of some deranged criminal? I could never forgive myself.
In a panic, I call down to the office.
A moment passes.
Hurry! I think.
Finally, Peggy answers my buzz.
"Yes?"
"Mrs. Fairbanks," I begin. "Is there a man supposed to be taking videos of the kids right now?"
"No," she responded, startled. "Let me check into that."
Just as I'm about to send several boys down to follow Ellie on the path where I last saw her go, I realize she has returned safely to her seat.
"Ellie! Where did you go? What did he have you do?"
In her breezily confident manner, she says, "Oh, he just stood me by a wall and had me say, 'We are . . .we are . . .we are' a few times."
"Did he say what this was for?"
"Just a video for the marketing committee."
"But no one in the school knows that he is here!"
The other kids around Ellie have been chattering nonstop since she left and chime in occasion with exclamations of alarm at the random appearance of the man and his unclear intentions.
"Ellie! How could you just go with him? Did you know him?" The questions flutter around in the air, asking what I myself wonder.
Ellie's smile twinges nervously. "I'm starting to get a little scared. My heart is beating so fast!"
All I can think is what kind of video was he going to use her little quote for, and I know I am certainly not the only one thinking this.
Knowing I still need to carry on with my day, I invoke the buddy system. "I need two people to take my attendance downstairs today, and if someone tries to do something to you, kick them!"
"Oh, that's scary," one boy mocks me teasingly.
A few minutes later, Corey and Lucas reappear in class, mission accomplished.
Corey says, "We saw the guy. He saw Mrs. Fairbanks coming, and he ran out the door. She's chasing him."
Lucas continues, "Yeah, Mrs. Bender is helping her."
I narrow my eyes at them, knowing this is incredibly unlikely but not willing to completely rule out the possibility of truth since I'm a little shaken by the man coming at all.
Suddenly the wail of a police siren pierces the air.
My students jerk their heads toward me, eyes wide with shock. The girls twitter like magpies in their nervousness; the boys exclaim excitedly.
"I think we're going to have to have a lock down drill," one says.
"Would you please lock our door? I'd feel safer," Lucas says. It's hard to tell if he really means it, or if he's playing into the feelings of others since that's what he often does.
Finally, Peggy calls back to my room.
"Ms. Sullivan? It's ok. That was a parent on the school board; he just didn't sign in with the office."
Feeling mildly better, I respond, "Good, but tell him next time he needs to identify himself. I had no idea who he was."
I suppose this is a case of "alls well that ends well," but geez, what if it hadn't been?
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
new obsession
oh, i really should be getting ready to go hang out with friends. i need that--some time away from my new obsession.
i have found when i worry about something, i seek to understand it. so i look up articles, i seek out books, i call and/or email people who might be able to help. such is the case right now, as i seek to understand how to help my family with these post-adoption struggles.
oh, pedro. you kill us, kid. so angry, and we just want to help. my poor mother, who sounds like pedro has pretty much rejected her; my stressed father, trying to be the strong one; my darling sister, the buffer zone; our precious cely, no doubt hurting in her own way; and me, the distant one, wanting to help, wondering if i have to move back to texas, hoping all the pain will quickly recede into a memory everyone is glad to have made it through.
but who really knows? pedro may be going back to foster care a few months if his attitude doesn't change. yesterday i was ok with that. today, i want to think that maybe his anger can be worked through. but i'm still afraid to call home, afraid to hear what i'll hear about the pain since yesterday, afraid to talk to my mom and dad to hear their sides of the story--knowing that that will make my fear for them grow astronomically. i guess that makes me a coward.
i'm not ignoring them, though. i've thought about little else in the last 36 hours. i bought two books today, spent hours on amazon looking up book titles, and emailed a counselor from catholic social services in cincy. i need reinforcements. and my parents need support. i don't know how they make it from day to day.
i have found when i worry about something, i seek to understand it. so i look up articles, i seek out books, i call and/or email people who might be able to help. such is the case right now, as i seek to understand how to help my family with these post-adoption struggles.
oh, pedro. you kill us, kid. so angry, and we just want to help. my poor mother, who sounds like pedro has pretty much rejected her; my stressed father, trying to be the strong one; my darling sister, the buffer zone; our precious cely, no doubt hurting in her own way; and me, the distant one, wanting to help, wondering if i have to move back to texas, hoping all the pain will quickly recede into a memory everyone is glad to have made it through.
but who really knows? pedro may be going back to foster care a few months if his attitude doesn't change. yesterday i was ok with that. today, i want to think that maybe his anger can be worked through. but i'm still afraid to call home, afraid to hear what i'll hear about the pain since yesterday, afraid to talk to my mom and dad to hear their sides of the story--knowing that that will make my fear for them grow astronomically. i guess that makes me a coward.
i'm not ignoring them, though. i've thought about little else in the last 36 hours. i bought two books today, spent hours on amazon looking up book titles, and emailed a counselor from catholic social services in cincy. i need reinforcements. and my parents need support. i don't know how they make it from day to day.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Glimmers of Hope
It's a new year. I'll be honest--with the tension enveloping me due to Pedro's mood swings, I've been somewhat eager to head on back to OH. Then, of course, today was awesome. Like Christmas day--there was so much joy and laughter and happiness flowing from everyone that it hurts like hell to know I'm leaving these people I love more than anything or anyone. Yes, I include Pedro in that love.
Last evening we had a somewhat quiet start to a New Year's Eve party at a friend of KC's house. Pedro hadn't spoken to KC in almost three days (since the last time I wrote here), and everyone seemed rather subdued. But then Cely and Kaidence, daughter of KC's best friend, pulled out Twister. Amazingly, after about 20 minutes, Pedro joined the three of us playing Twister in the kitchen. And then I went and sat down, and KC took my place. And then Pedro was talking to KC again. I don't know if a lot of preteen boys are that moody and hard to understand, or if Pedro is extra special in this area, but what the hell? He was an ass for three days, and now he's fine. Granted, I felt a million times better after that; I can't seem to relax when people don't get along.
The evening improved greatly after that, no doubt somewhat aided by my consumption of alcohol and an amusing game of Uno. And today, even though we all had to drag ourselves up to go to Mass this morning, no one was too grouchy (even me, I don't think). My parents invited over their friend Suzette and the three boys she's caring for right now. It was so fun. We laughed so much as we played Apple to Apples Junior and ate queso and then played "Hot Potato" at Pedro's request. He thought that game was hilarious and giggled his high pitched squeal. I quickly grew bored with the game, but it was fun to watch my parents and Suzette, KC, myself, and all those kids play.
Later Pedro, KC, and I watched "Grease" and hung out a bit while I packed my things. Cely went to a friend's house to play for a few hours; she went to bed right when she got back. I gave her a huge hug and asked if she were getting up before I left tomorrow; she said she wasn't sure. I think I saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes, so I squeezed her tight and told her I loved her because I do. I don't want her to be sad because I'm leaving for a while. I'll be back, but that's hard to convince a 9 year old whose real family abandoned her.
Two things recently that made me just love these kids. One, last night on the way to the NYE party, we played a game called "Would you rather?" Cely had to answer whether she would prefer to have 10 kids or no kids. At first she was like "none." Then she reconsidered and said "10 because I want to foster kids." Isn't that beautiful?
And then today when some of us were still playing Apples to Apples, and Pedro got restless, he asked if he could take the three younger boys out to play basketball for a bit. Although they weren't out there long, I was really proud to see him step up and be kind to them. They were once foster kids, too, and were adopted by their grandmother b/c their parents abandoned them. He does so much better with younger boys than he does with boys his own age, and I can't help but wonder if that's because he always talks about wanting to be a thug basically and shoot people and run from the cops. It's hard to reconcile my two images of Pedro: the thug and the kind person. Maybe he's at war with himself. But it gives me a little hope to see him be kind and happy. Maybe someday, that will be who he is all the time.
Last evening we had a somewhat quiet start to a New Year's Eve party at a friend of KC's house. Pedro hadn't spoken to KC in almost three days (since the last time I wrote here), and everyone seemed rather subdued. But then Cely and Kaidence, daughter of KC's best friend, pulled out Twister. Amazingly, after about 20 minutes, Pedro joined the three of us playing Twister in the kitchen. And then I went and sat down, and KC took my place. And then Pedro was talking to KC again. I don't know if a lot of preteen boys are that moody and hard to understand, or if Pedro is extra special in this area, but what the hell? He was an ass for three days, and now he's fine. Granted, I felt a million times better after that; I can't seem to relax when people don't get along.
The evening improved greatly after that, no doubt somewhat aided by my consumption of alcohol and an amusing game of Uno. And today, even though we all had to drag ourselves up to go to Mass this morning, no one was too grouchy (even me, I don't think). My parents invited over their friend Suzette and the three boys she's caring for right now. It was so fun. We laughed so much as we played Apple to Apples Junior and ate queso and then played "Hot Potato" at Pedro's request. He thought that game was hilarious and giggled his high pitched squeal. I quickly grew bored with the game, but it was fun to watch my parents and Suzette, KC, myself, and all those kids play.
Later Pedro, KC, and I watched "Grease" and hung out a bit while I packed my things. Cely went to a friend's house to play for a few hours; she went to bed right when she got back. I gave her a huge hug and asked if she were getting up before I left tomorrow; she said she wasn't sure. I think I saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes, so I squeezed her tight and told her I loved her because I do. I don't want her to be sad because I'm leaving for a while. I'll be back, but that's hard to convince a 9 year old whose real family abandoned her.
Two things recently that made me just love these kids. One, last night on the way to the NYE party, we played a game called "Would you rather?" Cely had to answer whether she would prefer to have 10 kids or no kids. At first she was like "none." Then she reconsidered and said "10 because I want to foster kids." Isn't that beautiful?
And then today when some of us were still playing Apples to Apples, and Pedro got restless, he asked if he could take the three younger boys out to play basketball for a bit. Although they weren't out there long, I was really proud to see him step up and be kind to them. They were once foster kids, too, and were adopted by their grandmother b/c their parents abandoned them. He does so much better with younger boys than he does with boys his own age, and I can't help but wonder if that's because he always talks about wanting to be a thug basically and shoot people and run from the cops. It's hard to reconcile my two images of Pedro: the thug and the kind person. Maybe he's at war with himself. But it gives me a little hope to see him be kind and happy. Maybe someday, that will be who he is all the time.
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