The Bell Jar

"Yeah....you're going to have a class like that at school," I responded, to the girls of my tutor-group.
"Like, SEX ED?!" Muslimo shrieked, while the rest of the girls stared at me with mouths open.
"No, not sex ed but, oh god even the word is gross, um, puberty class.  You know, how everything works?  Don't worry, the boys and girls are separated during the talk."
"Boys have puberty too??!!!"
"Yeah, and they don't want to talk about it in front of girls, either."
"Well," Maryan stated definitively, slapping her hand on the table, "it already happened to me.  Happened in January.  Happened again last Monday."
"At least you're done with that for the next month."
"That's right." she answered.

"Shanika is never coming back."  Mariama stated, an uncomfortable smile on her face.
"I know, she's mad at me because I kept getting on her about working here."
"It's not just that.  She's mad at us.  She doesn't want to be with us anymore.  She is hanging around with you know, the bad people."
"We tried to bring her back."
"She keeps trying to fight me.  She doesn't even get herself ready in the morning, her mom does it for her.  And she wants to fight."  Mariama continued.
I looked at Mariama.  I wanted her mom to get her up in the morning and help her get ready.  The girls dissolved into stories, the fist fights when they get off the bus, the attacks on the bus, frightening adults that threaten the kids physically.
"I threw my backpack in a bush and pretended I was going to fight her, just to make her go away...."
I felt weary.
"Look you guys, I know my advise doesn't really mean a lot, but when you're older, fighting, physically fighting - people are really going to look down on you, really think badly of you.....I know that here, if you don't push back people will think you're..."
"WEAK." they said in unison.
"Yes.  Weak.  But if there is anyway to avoid it... you're just better than that."
"My mom said if they come at me, fight back....."  Naado began, voice raised.
I listened.  And I wondered if my 'advise' was even relevant there.  Or safe.  And I worried, worried about my girls, fourth grade, surrounded by violence that will harden and shape them.

Some 4H club brought came in to do an anti-smoking campaign.  Our kids immediately proved too advanced for the lesson when the started answering their questions with name brands of cigarettes and responses like 'weed' or 'cocaine' when the lady was just asking about tobacco.  At the end, they were shown a series of international, anti-smoking commercials.  One featured a parade float and fun house music, everything in bright pastel colors.  People in hospital gowns sang to the carnival-like music, most of them missing parts of their faces, mainly parts of their jaws.  Others sang through holes in their necks.  Some hissed away through oxygen masks, all while the jolly music kept playing.  All the while, the float rolled through town.

"Ms. Wagner, can we please just go in the back now and do homework?  Math, school work?  We want to work."  Muslimo stated emphatically, eyes wide.