Snowman, Why Are You Here?

"Pablo, are you excited about Christmas?"  I whispered.
"Yes...." he answered.
"What did you ask for?"
"An iPhone." all six years of him answered, definitely.

"Nunca he visto nieve...."  Rosa informed me while we ran to the trailer.
"Oh, Rosa.  I really hope it snows this year." I answered, knowing every time I see that snowflake on my weather app I would think of her.
"Voy al gimnasio los miércoles ahora.....¡y le entiendo todo!"  she whispered dramatically.
"I am so proud of you, Rosa."  I answered, struggling to make myself speak English instead of Spanish.
"You have been working so hard."

"Hey, Alejandro's brothers are in your classes and they don't celebrate Christmas, so we'll be hanging out in the trailer during the holiday parties.  You can send his brothers to me, if you want."  I emailed various teachers.
No one answered.
"Our mom is picking us up before the parties..."  Gustavo mentioned one day, randomly.  It figured.  Their mom is no fool and would never want her children to be uncomfortable.
"Hey, Alejandro's probably not going to have to go to the trailer on the holiday party day, his mom is coming to pick them up." I informed the second meanest teacher in the school.
"Uh, okay, well, I'm going to send some other kids with you, you know kids that I haven't been able to make parental contact with...."
I don't know why she was so determined to not let me in that room during the party.  Did she want to send the kids with me that she had barred from the party for behavior?  Turn my trailer into a little mini-jail?  Or the kids that didn't pay the eight dollar fee for admission?

"Ms. Q said that all the kids that don't celebrate Christmas are going to the trailer with you."  Veronica whispered, later in the day.
"What!?"  I whispered back, furiously.
I was getting pissed off.  Can't answer an email but can send me fifty kids no one wants to my trailer.  Kids I don't even know.
On the day of the parties, I spirited Gustavo and another little boy from his class out of the classroom before the parties began.  I had my Scrabble game in the trailer and a bunch of candy, in anticipation.  We booked toward Alejandro's classroom.
"His mom is picking him up."  the second meanest teacher in the school informed me, as if I hadn't mentioned this fun fact to her a few days ago.
"Okay, have them buzz the trailer when she comes."  I answered.
"No, she'll be here any minute, you should take them to the Media Center, I told them that's where you'd be."
We collected the third brother and the four of us sat in the Media Center.  It is open at the top and sits in the center of the school.  We could hear the parties all around.  I set up my work laptop and let the other boy and Gustavo play math games on it.  Alejandro and his other brother and I sat around and talked.  Teachers came in with plates full of food and fraternized.  We sat and waited while the clock ticked.  An administrator came in.  She didn't ask me why I wasn't wearing our mandated Christmas clothes or why I was sitting with students in the Media Center during the parties.
Their mom arrived an hour later.

"Snow..ow...ow man!  Why are you here?"  the kids sang, hauntingly.  I locked eyes with Alejandra, who flattered me by looking thrilled when she saw me in the audience. 
"Snow...ow...ow man, why are you here?  You are just a little snowman with your little twig hands.. why would anyone want to talk to you....?"
She saw me wincing at the lyrics and nodded.  And continued to sing, staring at me with a distaste on her face while she sang the mean lyrics.

"Hey...." one of the volunteer mentors at the Housing Authority said in greeting.
"I can't find my girl and her dad said she was here....but I know something happened...."
"Yeah, she's been suspended." another teacher responded.
I looked at Habiba.
"They jumped that girl, the one that was in your class last year at school.  All four of them...."  Four girls I taught at The Center last year and one that I taught at school.
"Her mom came up here and wanted to know what happened to her face."
"But...you know.. the other three didn't hit her...just jumped on her jacket and spit on her...." Habiba said lowly, knowing what they did was just as bad.

"I saw what she was doing!"  the kindergarten teacher said with surprise.  She was talking about Helina, my non-verbal girl.
"Wait, you mean when she tried to poke my eyes out with a pencil?"
"Yeah!  She almost got you!"
"Yeah, I have to watch her.  She tries to stab me."  I answered.  Or rip my finger nails off.  Or tear holes in my clothes.

I crowd-sourced a book buy so that each of my students would have a brand new book to take home and keep and read over the two week, end of the year break.  I told myself not to get too excited, not to be disappointed if they didn't react with glee, but honestly, they were marvelous.  It was more that I could have ever hoped for.

I walked up the hill into the neighborhood with the kids that walk home from school.  Adriana always walks by my side and we talk.
"My mom bought them presents.  They're coming over on Christmas."  she whispered, referring to Juan and Alberto, who her mom also always gives a ride home.
"Oh my god, I am so glad.  Your mom is so nice, you all are so nice."  I responded, relieved.
"Their dad is trying to take them, take them away from her....from their mom."  she responded, with a much more serious look than any ten year old should have.

I entered the kindergarten classroom the day after the the book give away.  I was shocked when Helina set up a chair for me, like the autistic girl usually does who was absent, and sat next to me, resting her elbow on my knee.  I held onto the tiny kindergarten chair while I sat down, afraid she would rip it out from under me and I'd fall on my ass.  I told her how pretty her hijab was and praised her for mouthing sounds that she refuses to vocalize.

About twenty minutes in, she shoved the eraser end of her pencil into my mouth, just when I got complacent.
I swatted it away and laughed.
"Oh, Helina.  No one gets one over on you."  I said and hugged her.  And she hugged me back, her eyes batting and mischievous.

Santa Goes Straight to the Ghetto

I walked from my kindergarten class to my first grade class, around 8:45 in the morning.  I noticed Chance the Rapper.  He is always flattered and grins when I call him by the nickname that his all-day teacher calls him.
He was wandering in the hall, all six years old of him, with a late slip in his hand.
"Chance the Rapper!"  I called out.
He half smiled.
"Chance...are you okay?"
He broke into hysterical crying, his words spilling from his mouth in a way that I could barely understand.
"The car, what happened in the car?"  I asked.
"Did she yell at you?"
He shook his head, hiccuping and crying.
"Did she hit?"
"Yes!" he screamed.
"Where?"
"Across my face!"  he screamed and cried.  I hugged him.  And he cried low, feral cries from the bottom of his soul.

I really hate Mondays.  And there is just so much pain, so much abject pain in every corner of the place where I work.  It's deep and dark and way down in the recesses where no one needs to go.

"I have a low...." Adriana whispered, while I set up her computer for small group MAP testing.  She and Veronica were absent on Monday and I had hoped they were doing something fun.  I always do "highs and lows" at the beginning of my lessons, but I was still surprised that it had infiltrated our normal conversations.
"My mom's in the hospital..."
"Her diabetes?"  I asked.
"We didn't buy the $300 stuff from Kroger.  We got the $10 stuff...."

I went to check on the Martínez family again, a family who normally is never absent, trying to find out if they were there for testing.   I found Alberto, a member of a different family, who came in late though he normally doesn't.
He reeked of urine.
I pretended not to notice, and brought him to the testing room.  He has been under a lot of stress, his dad left for another woman, leaving his mom with four kids to care for.  And she won't update her phone numbers for us, no matter how many notes I send home.  And Alberto, my tough little dude, has started peeing his pants, even though he's in third grade.  This was the first time I had known him to arrive in school in that condition.

I walked through the Cafetorium with Veronica and Prem, on the look out for Faba and Juan that are in the Band class, whom we watch, pick up and then, run out to the trailer and do our thing.
Juan was shaking and his head was down.  Faba hovered nearby.
"He had to sit out...."  Faba whispered.
"He doesn't know his notes... his mom won't let him practice at home...."  the Band teacher said, exasperated, knowing that I had gotten him his trumpet so that he could participate and worried what I would think, though I wished he wouldn't worry about that.
I put my arm around Juan and he started to shake.  And then, he cried.
"I'll call her!"  the Band teacher said, but I knew none of the phone numbers worked.
I knew I was going to cry, too.  I pulled Juan to my side and asked him if he wanted to go get a drink of water or stay with us.
"Stay with you." he responded, and we went to the trailer.
"Adult problems,"  I said over and over.
"We are going to solve this, Juan, because we are adults and we've got this."

I sat with third grade, during the last hour of the day.  Alberto still smelled terrible.
"Juan, he's been hurting me...." he said, his strong Mexican accent dragging out his vowels.
"What did he do?"
"He hit me, he hit me a lot...."
"Why?"
"I don't know why.... I just cried and grabbed the puppy and went in my bed, under the covers...."
"I am so sorry, Alberto.  This should not be happening.  I'll talk to Juan.  I will talk to him about this..."

I stood in the Cafetorium, watching kids eat lunch while people yelled at them.  The nicest teacher at the school took over the "silent music" that was supposed to signify silence, and played "Santa Goes Straight to the Ghetto", loud as hell.

Children snickered and shoulders grooved.
And the nicest teacher at the school danced for them, right up on the stage of the Cafetorium.

Up In Here

I walked behind the school toward my trailer.  It was dark.  I heard weird howling sounds, sounds that really didn't sound normal, in the woods.  The woods behind our trailers.  I paused.  Miss W. was out there, our head custodian.
"What the fuck is that?"  I whispered.
"I think it's the kids...." she answered.
The yelps and howls continued.
"It might be animals killing something...." she continued, in a suddenly hushed voice.
"Miss W., this is the part where both of us die in the horror movie.  I'm going to the trailer.  You should go inside."  I responded.

"You're gonna make me lose my mind!  Up in here!  Up in here!  Habiba's gonna make me lose my mind!"
"Up in here, up in here!"  the Center kids echoed.
"Ms. Wagner's gonna make me lose my mind!"
"Up in here! Up in here!" Habiba vocalized.
"Habiba gonna make me kiss my hand!"
"Up in here, up in here!"  we all laughed and sang.
"Bud, Not Buddy" had suddenly turned romantic, and even when I drove out of the apartments, I rolled down the window and tooted my car's horn, or Alec's car's horn, at Habiba and kissed my hand, while she kissed her own and ran, laughing.

"How was your break?"  I asked various students.
"We ate goat." Prem informed me.
"Really?  That's nice."  I continued, about to pontificate how goat is not a common American food choice but is well regarded throughout the rest of the world.
"My dad got it.  He slit its throat."
I love Prem.  He is one of the most interesting and spry kids I have taught in years.  I tried to distract myself from what they did. 
"I had a devil egg."  Robert informed us.  My big boy.  I had no idea what he was talking about.  And, he has been difficult, lately.
"Wait, you mean deviled eggs!"  I finally responded.
"I love those, I eat them for breakfast, right here in the trailer, every morning."
"It is the best thing I have ever eaten."  he responded.

"Things got crazy this morning"  Aazim informed me, at The Center, after school.
"Someone tore all the underwear out of the drawer, and the socks, too, and threw them all over our room."
"Wait, who did it, Mahja, Suleymann, Jabez?  Or the little boy I don't know yet?  Wait, or the girl baby?"
"No.  Mahja discovered it and started screaming, it wasn't him.  Suleymann was putting on cologne in the bathroom....Abdarahim was sleeping....the baby can't walk, Jabez, I don't know what he was doing...."
"So, um, that leaves you right, Aazim?  Did you tear the drawer apart, with all of the underwear?  or...Jabez?"
"I don't trust that Suleymann was putting on cologne in the bathroom, that really only takes a second."  Yami stated.
"I have to agree, Yami.  Suleymann, I think you are a suspect."
"No!  I was putting on deodorant!"  Suleymann replied, eyes wide.
"Now Suleymann, I am confused.  Is there a difference between deodorant and cologne?  Or are we just...you know spray spraying our underarms and necks and wrists with the same thing?"  I replied.
He looked perplexed.
"I believe we have two mysteries to solve now,"  I continued.
"Who threw the underwear and socks all over the Abduhalli household and whether deodorant and cologne are the same things.  I would like to table this discussion until our next meeting and would like to request that you pull out your copy of Smile and turn to the appropriate page."

"So the Kamikazes weren't regular soldiers...they went down with the plane....the used the plane as a weapon,"  the nicest teacher in our school instructed, because one of the meanest teachers in the school had to leave, unexpectedly, and he took over.
"Man, when I started teaching, down in Miami, we had a lot of kids coming in from El Salvador...." he continued.
I felt myself stiffen.
"Kids, thirteen, twelve, kinda hard kids.  They had been soldiers...."
Adriana's mom is from El Salvador.
I sat next to Nsimba and started trying to help her with her work.
"Ms. Wagner, you know that thing, that thing Mr. Walker was talking about?"  she asked.
"Yeah, the kids with guns...." I whispered back.
"They do that in Africa too....."
"Central African Republic is still in a war, isn't it?"
"Yeah....my brothers didn't want to come here....."  I never knew she had brothers.  All the girls are here.
"Are they safe?"
"Yes... they left...."
"To the Congo?"
"Yes, to the Congo..." she answered.

I walked into my daily lunch duty and made I high pitched squeak at a kid who likes to communicate with me in that way.  He squeaked back and smiled. 

"Do you want to dig in the box or wait in the classroom?"  I asked Prem while we stood outside of our push-in classroom.  There has been a large box of hundreds of dollars of discarded instructional items in the hall for months.
"Dig in the box...." he sang lowly, yet in a high pitched song.  He does it when we talk in secret.
We entered the room a few minutes later, hiding the things we had taken from the box.
"Come and get paper!"  the general ed. teacher screamed out at him.
"I already have paper." he sang to me, in his little high pitched song, without answering the teacher.    We got to work.

"So during the holiday party,"  the second meanest teacher in the school said, loudly.
"You should just take Alejandro to your trailer.  His family's religion doesn't allow holiday celebrations so you two should just go there."
"Okay."  I answered immediately.  We'll go to the fucking woodshed.
I have four other students in that class.  Their parents might be there.  It will be fun, there'll be snacks.  And she will smile and wave and pretend like she's actually nice and does this whole operation by herself while I am in the woodshed.

It's fine.  I'll invite his brothers.  The woodshed is the place to be, anyway.