A Simple Equation

Despite all the counseling, outreach, curricula development and trainings I do as a social worker, sometimes it is an unplanned moment that allows me to make the best breakthrough with a troubled child. That is exactly what happened last week with Michael, a 15 year old student in my school. I don’t know a lot about him, nor do any other staff or administrators at our school. What we do know is that he missed over half of the last school year, and his parents are totally unresponsive to outreach. However, I have had a feeling since I first met Michael that behind his seemingly intractable outer shell, he is intelligent, vulnerable and kind. I got a chance to validate my intuition about him last week.

On Monday the State English Language Arts  exams were administered citywide and Michael took his in Partnership with Children’s class room. He finished early, but had to stay in the room until the period was over. He started asking me about the tattoos on my arms. It wasn’t the first time - he has been interested in my tattoos since he started at the school, probably because he has a large one of his own, also on his arm. I told him about the meaning of mine, and then asked about his. As I suspected he got his done by a non-professional in the projects where he lives. Needless to say I encouraged him to be safe and warned about the dangers of using unclean needles.

I brought the conversation back to school by asking if he was nervous for the upcoming State math exam. What he said next struck me as a metaphor for his life, though he didn’t realize it. “I hate math” he said. “Why’s that?” I asked. “Because, you can do everything right, and then if you do one part wrong, the whole thing turns out to be wrong. Then your teacher thinks you’re stupid. I’m not stupid," he answered. “And I hate my math teacher.” His statements reflect his life experiences. He can try to be good and to do well in school, but he feels if he slips up and makes a mistake, he will automatically be labeled as being a bad kid, lazy and unintelligent by the adults in his life.

I told him I could relate to his feelings because I also disliked math when I was in school. “But,” I told him, “I never let my teachers win. I asked other people to help me, and ended up doing pretty good in class.” By using the terms of winning and losing I knew I would appeal to his ego. I also revealed to him that even I, an adult and “teacher”, could be vulnerable too.

But the best part of the day came later: after classes were released, Michael came back to Partnership’s room and knocked on the door. I opened it, and Michael asked “Do you think you could help me with my math?” I don’t know if I was surprised in that moment – I think it was more that I was overwhelmed by a sense of success. I had made a breakthrough with Michael. You have to see that in the context of Michael’s life, to open up even a little bit to an adult, no less a “teacher” like me, takes a lot of courage, and to then ask for help takes even more. He’s showing that he needs someone else, that he is not the tough, self-reliant street kid he makes himself out to be. I can’t orchestrate these moments, but I live for them.

Turning Point

This week marked a turning point for Jose. He made a conscious decision to steer himself away from conflict. The scenario that provoked him wasn’t unusual: he came to school and another student “started with him”. For many inner-city school children fighting is a means of boosting their self-confidence. They are often told at home or at school that they are not good, not smart, not hard working. By winning fights, they get respect. Parents also expect their children to win fights – and punish them verbally and physically if they lose.

In this social context, for Jose to avoid a fight was huge. He also sought out my staff for help. Together we came up with a plan to have Jose “shadow” his favorite teacher as a means to avoid any potential conflicts with his peers. He spent the day helping the teacher in between classes and ate lunch with him. It was amazing to witness Jose consciously avoid a fight, especially since he is struggling emotionally with the reality of his mother’s terminal illness.

Simultaneously to being happy about Jose’s growing self-control, I am deeply concerned about ensuring he is left in custody of a responsible adult when his mother passes away, which could happen any day. As of now, there is no written paperwork that I know of that would give guardianship of Jose to his aunt, who he lives with, or to any other responsible person. The worst case scenario is that Jose will end up in foster care. You may have read the recent New York Times article with its dismal statistics on foster care children

"Study Finds More Woes Following Foster Care":

Even though Partnership with Children places social workers in schools, our work extends far beyond the school building. My staff and I have not been able to get Jose’s mother to respond to us when doing home visits or calling – in fact, we have never spoken to her at all. The only information we get about her comes through Jose, which leaves a lot unknown. The next step will be to visit her in the hospital. Given her rapidly declining health and the fact that we have just over two months left in the school year, I am working as fast as I can to resolve Jose’s custody issue.

For Some, a Tenacious Grip to a Safety Net. For Others, a Steep Fall through the Cracks.

One aspect of Jose’s return to our class that I worried about was his relationship with another student, Michael. Michael’s own behavioral issues touched a nerve with Jose, and provoked him to fall back on his old “street” behavior.

Michael missed a year and a half of school before joining our class in the fall, and is clearly a high-risk student. He returned to class last week at the same time as Jose, after an out-of-school suspension. Within 30 minutes of returning to school, he had an altercation with the Dean. He was suspended but returned to the school the next day instead of reporting to his suspension site.

According to the law, once a student enters the school building, the school administrators can not force him to leave without a parent signing him out. In Michael’s case, there was no parent to reach during the day, so he remained in school. He then got into a physical fight with a student, and while attempting to break up the fight, the Dean was hit in the head.

Long story short, he will not be returning to our school for the rest of the year.
The reason we, or the school for that matter, were unable to help Michael is that the systems set up to provide students with services require documentation of past behavior. Unfortunately because Michael was not in the school system for the last year and a half, and there is no paper work that shows he has behavioral problems, there was no way for us to push for a faster evaluation. We were restricted to waiting and watching so to speak.

Michael’s situation is a good example of what can happen to students when they fall through the cracks and don't get the services they need. Sadly this scenario plays out over and over again in schools across the city. My soul would be crushed if I thought about this reality too much. Instead, I focus on my school, and on the difference I can make.