Chapter Twenty-Two: Islands of Joy in Choppy Seas

Chapter 22: Islands of Joy in Choppy Seas

Cruise ships depart daily from Port Canaveral, just east of Orlando. These ships often schedule stops at secluded island beaches owned by the cruise operator. Many passengers consider these “paradise islands” the highlight of their trip and later rave to their friends about the pristine sand, warm clear water, parasailing and snorkeling. The travelers often neglect to mention the rainy days, lightening storms or sea sickness. Minor inconveniences and discomforts are forgotten and forgiven as long as there are island memories.

Like a cruise passenger, I seek out and revel in island ports no matter how brief the stay or how small the beach.

Island of Granted Grants

The day starts on a positive note with good news in my email mailbox - all my rewrites of the Memorial Hospital grant have paid off - I have been awarded $61,000 to spend on reducing drug use among my students. I am so excited not only because we have the funds, but also because I don’t need to do any more rewrites of this grant application!

I add this good news to today’s morning meeting agenda. I print up and photocopy an agenda for the faculty every morning. Certain topics keep coming up – use of walkie-talkies, line protocol, cursing, parent communication. I plan to put together a staff handbook with sections devoted to all these topics. Instead of writing the same tired sentences over and over, I will be able to cite the handbook prescriptively. Maybe I’ll have time to write the handbook this summer. All things feel possible now that this grant application has been approved!

Island of Hope

During our morning meeting, Midge wants to talk about Frankie, the nine year old homeless boy currently living in Cressler House. Midge made some phone calls and found a dentist willing to work on Frankie’s infected tooth. She shares the name of the dentist for future referrals. Daphne has news to tell as well. Tyryona auditioned and was chosen for the lead role in a community theatre production. Daphne says Tyryona has been walking around with a script in her hand practicing her lines during every free minute. Daphne promises to keep us all updated regarding play performances.

Island of the Brief Epiphany

Cassandra is out of control and AWOL; both counselors are busy. I rendezvous with Cassandra just south of the baseball diamond. She is scowling. I try to imagine her without the furrowed brow and narrowed eyes and I think she is probably a beautiful child. A few days ago I mentioned to her caseworker that of all my students, Cassandra is the only one who maintains the angry demeanor even talking one-on-one. Our conversations involve me talking and Cassandra loudly cursing at me. The case worker pointed out that given the number of foster homes in which Cassandra has lived, she prefers to have people dislike her. It makes it easier to leave. I think about that as Cassandra and I walk back across the field to my office.

“Something in class made you angry.” I make it a statement and a question.

“Fuck you, you bitch. You don’t know what the fuck happened so just fucking shut your”

I interrupt her tirade. “Cassandra, no matter what you say, you can’t make me hate you. I know that’s what you are trying to do, but I have to warn you. It won’t work. “

Cassandra stops walking. Her long braids stop swinging. She stares at me and then I see this tiny smile, this sheepish, slightest upturn of her mouth. At that moment I want to hug Cassandra. I don’t. Hugging students who have a history of sexual abuse is unwise. But we walk quietly to my office and inside she calmly tells me why she ran from the classroom. Without cursing at me, without yelling, just the facts. By 11:00 Cassandra is ready to return to class.

Island of Yoga Magic

Lynne leans over the filing cabinet wall to tell me I have a guest: the Yoga woman. I hate forgetting things, and I forgot about this. I made this appointment, it was on my calendar, I reminded myself this morning, but somehow in the dance of the day, I completely forgot about it.

A few weeks ago I saw an advertisement in the paper for a Yoga class. I called the instructor and asked if she would be willing to do a demonstration for my students at no cost. I’d read articles about how public schools in San Francisco now make Yoga a regular part of PE and anecdotal evidence says the students are calmer and there are fewer fights. I’ll try most anything in the name of anger control. The Yoga woman is here now to do Yoga with my students. I get on the walkie-talkie and announce that today we’ll have a special activity, Yoga. I ask teachers to canvas their classes for interested parties. Fifteen students raise their hands.

The students respond amazingly well to the Yoga. I need this woman on a daily basis! She has all 15 children in the “corpse” position while new age music plays and she hypnotically chants “feel the white light, let the energy surround you” etc. This goes on for over 10 minutes. Estralitta, Adoncia, Karla, Timmy, Patrick, Claymont, all sorts of wild kids are there. They aren’t shouting sarcasm or rough housing. They are mellow and calm and peaceful. The Yoga scene makes my day. I want daily yoga for Prospect and Yoga woman is willing, but I can’t afford the cost. She suggests I write a grant.


No Islands in Sight

I have a phone call. It is Cassandra’s DCF caseworker. Despite her recent arrest, they have decided to move Cassandra back with her mother. Her mom lives near Tampa so Cassandra will not be returning to school and we’ll have no chance to say goodbye. While on the phone, Lynne picks up another call for me. It is Henry, my school liaison. He phones to say Ionya’s mother, tired of all the Baker Acting, has insisted Ionya be transferred to the Avenue Schools, another alternative school in town. Again, no opportunity for goodbyes. The Deputy stops in to say goodnight and to tell me Torrey won’t be back. The JAC (Juvenile Assessment Center) determined after the water pipe incident, she has enough points to be held at the JDC (Juvenile Detention Center) until she can be sent to a boot camp.

Rosie stops in my office and I share the news of Cassandra, Ionya and Torrey. Rosie says she thinks Cassandra knew this was coming; she had all her friends write their phone numbers on her arms two days ago. Cassandra told a few teachers, but no one believed her. Ionya had no such insight. Goodbye Cassandra, goodbye Ionya, goodbye Torrey.

The Boss calls to continue the discussion he began earlier today on his usual theme: he isn’t happy with me and views my reluctance to change as either defiance or weakness. As he talks I try to see me through his eyes. I see a difficult employee. I see an employee who questions his authority at every opportunity and who doesn’t “buy in” to his way, the Ebencorp way, of doing things. I am not sure what I can do to change this perception or more correctly, what I am willing to do. I think I would get along better with The Boss if I questioned less, protested less, shut up more and obeyed more. I am not good at doing that. I could never have survived the military and I am beginning to wonder whether I can survive here.