The Dream Keeper

 I lay on the massage table in the dimly lit room.
"Okay, clear your mind and focus on your breathing." the massage-lady instructed.
I immediately imagined Lola delicately arching her back in the original downward facing dog, then settling on the table for her massage.  My mind flashed to her sitting in a comfortable chair, her feet soaking in hot sudsy water. 
"That's it! You found your happy place!" the massage-lady stated.

"Trayvon's mother is here, she wants to see you." another teacher informed me.  Shit.  I had emailed her earlier in the day about her ass-slapping son's latest antics.  I had a feeling I was the one in trouble.
I walked into the office.  The administrator raised his eyebrows at me and left the room, leaving us alone.
"Hi, I'm Hilary.  I know we have spoken on the phone, but it is nice to meet you in person."  I shook her hand.

"I read your email and came down here right away.  I was already on the bus line on my way to school, but I decided not to go to class.  This is more important.  He is my son.  He has enough time to play and he plays enough.  I watched him when I got here and he didn't know it.  School is not playtime.  He will be in middle school next year.  This has to end.  He has to understand how to be in school."

"I have spoken to him about responsibility.  I am changing careers and I go to school all day.  When I get home, I take care of him and his brothers and sisters.  When they go to bed, I stay awake and do school work.  He has to learn to do this."

My mind flashed to the late seventies.  My mother was in school all day and raising the three of us on her own.  We were also on public assistance.  But I never really related to Trayvon or felt a like-mindedness or parallel experience. Was it racial?  Did I think my white mother with her three white kids on welfare while she went to college was somehow better?  Did I think that what Trayvon's family was doing was some kind of far fetched day dream while what my family did was realistic and practical in some way?

"I am studying to be a chef and Spanish food is my specialty.  I've told him that learning Spanish is important, that there are jobs that I could have gotten if I was bilingual.  I've told him that I might move them to Spain to learn more about cooking.  I want him to realize this is important."

I thought about what she said.  My immediate reaction was that it was a far-fetched goal.  A second later, I realized that she was not a daydreamer, but a guardian of dreams.  She had not looked at her situation and become bitter and angry.  She was still approaching life in the way a prosperous young college student with the world at their fingertips might.

I think it is a gift.

Normally when I have to speak to parents, I really have no idea what I am doing and just throw stuff out there.  I admit it.  But she wasn't blaming me and I wasn't blaming her.  I wasn't a bad teacher and she wasn't a bad parent.  We had to work together in order to help Trayvon.  We came up with a plan.

"So, we are going to try this.  If it doesn't work, we'll come up with something else.  But we are going to get him on board."

I actually really meant it.  I am committed.  I will continue to work with this child and his mother because it is important.  And I will work hard.  We have a partnership.  I will not view Trayvon as an annoyance in my day.  He is a human being that is very much at risk and I will work to help him get the basic skills that he needs to make it through school. 

I looked at "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" book that I had bought Oliver.  It was a Spanish translation.  I bought it for him because I heard that it was his favorite.  I told myself not to get to excited about giving it to him.  He is different minute to minute, sometimes giggling and hugging, only to stare past you a second later and not even notice your presence.  There is a reason why they call kids with his condition 'the child that won't love you back'. 
"Come here, Oliver, I have something for you."
He got up dutifully and walked with me to where my bag of tricks was.  He had his 'no giggle' face on.  As I bent over to retrieve the book, he caught a glimpse of the cover before I reached in.
"THE VERY HUNGRY CATERPILLAR!"  he called, grabbing the book from my bag and clutching it to his chest.  He immediately began flipping through it.
"Say 'thank you', Oliver, say 'thank you'"  Marsha instructed him.
"Thank you!" he said staring at the book.
"No, say it to her!  Who gave you this?"
"Wagner, Spanish teacher, thank you!" he said, staring at the book.

If you have never read "The Very Hungry Caterpillar", it is a story about a little egg lying on a leaf under the moon that later hatches a small caterpillar when the sun gazes upon it.  The caterpillar eats and eats throughout the book and submerges into a dark cocoon, only to dig himself out after a couple of weeks.

When you open the last two pages, a huge and colorful butterfly covers both of them. 

Everybody is a Star

I stood in front of the class, emphatically explaining the oral assessment they would be doing and then unleashed them to practice for a few minutes before we began.  As I turned toward the computer, I felt a hand touch mine tentatively.  I turned to see Oliver standing beside me.
"I need help." he said.
A full sentence.  He had gotten out of his seat to ask me.  This was a first.
"I'll help you, Oliver.  Let's go to your seat."

I wandered the room, checking work.  Bailey sneakily handed me a birthday card he had made himself.
"Sorry it's late..." he whispered.
I hugged him.  A side hug so as not to embarrass him. 
"Oh Bailey, I don't know what I am going to do without you next year when you go to middle school."
He smiled clandestinely.
"And," I thought, "if anyone fucks with you, if anyone says one word that you are 'really' a girl and not a boy,  you just let me know. I will fuck them up."

"Do you want to see a picture of the baby?"  Alejandro asked me, smiling.
He goes by Alex, anglicizing his name for American classroom use.  We speak exclusively in Spanish.  Before the Christmas break when all of the kids were bringing in costly gift cards and treats, he gave me two Icebreakers because he saw that I eat them all of the time and a handmade card.
"YES!"
"Okay," he said, smiling, "but it is from when he was in the hospital, so he has tubes in him."

I saw Oliver's head tilt and his eyes wander.
"You are looking at my hair."
"YES."
"Do you want to touch it?"
"YES."
He petted the red streak softly and then rotated to the back, skimming the trimmed edges like a hairdresser checking his latest cut.  And then we continued working.

My mind's eye wandered and "Stand" by Sly and the Family Stone filled my ears.  I imagined Oliver standing behind a seated woman in a hairdresser's chair, working wonders like Edward Scissorhands while the client smiled happily, handing him stacks of money.

He ripped the cape off and checked his cut, got his giggle out and motioned for the next client from the line. 

Cowboy Boots for Haiti

I woke up on my birthday with Lola cuddled next to me.  I could see through the window that it was gray and windy.  I held her closer and went back to sleep.

I saw Oliver in the hallway and greeted him.  His hand was slightly outstretched and I shook it. He smiled.
"How are you?"  I asked.
"GOOD." he responded.
"Do you know who that is?"  I heard his paraprofessional question as I walked away. 
"Spanish teacher.  Wagner." he answered in his oddly flat yet emphatic way.  I was thrilled.  He said my name. 

I felt pretty frumpy.  I was wearing ugly clothes, my hair looked bad, it was just not my day.  One of my students came up and hugged me.
"You smell good." he informed me.
"Really?  I was feeling really raggedy today, thank you."

The day crept ahead as Lola and I laid in bed.  'Get up' I told myself, 'you took the day off for a reason, it's your birthday'.  But I just couldn't.

I ran into Oliver again in the hallway.  He grabbed my hand and shook it, emphatically asking me "How are you?  How are you?"  over and over again, a huge smile on his face.

I walked by a kid I didn't know in my ugly clothes. 
"I like your sweater and that shirt you are wearing." she called to me.
"Ohhh, thank you!"
"I like that red streak in your hair too."
They have no idea how much these little comments mean. 

I was leaving class as I passed Oliver and his paraprofessional in the hallway.
"Have you gotten your giggle out?"  she asked.
He squared his shoulders and put a serious face on.  But his mouth started to twitch and he broke into giggles.
We laughed too, it was impossible not to.
"Okay, is your giggle out?"
Again Oliver burst into the cutest and most genuine laughter ever.  He shook his head and his eyes watered and I couldn't stop laughing either.  It just felt so good.
A large group of school visitors walked by us.
We turned Oliver toward us and all laughed, as if someone had told an amazing joke.

"So...." Jonas began, "I have a Valentine...." he whispered, motioning that it was from him to me.
"Wow really?"
"But the question is.....," his voice lowered further "do you have one for me?"  he pressed his forehead to mine and stared at me.

I walked through the hallway and passed Oliver again.
"How are you?"  he asked emphatically.
"Good!"  I answered.
He raised his arms in a hugging gesture and I hugged him.

I couldn't believe it. 

Dog Days of Winter

"Did you have a good weekend?"  I asked Amy, a newer member of the unusual group of kids that like to hang out and talk with me while I'm on hallway duty in the mornings.  I actually don't think they like to talk 'with' me, more that I listen to them.  Which is fine.
"I went to see 'Selma'".
"Oh.  I hear it's good but...."
"Sad.  Really sad."
She went into a detailed explanation of every violent scene in the movie.  I could tell she was honestly distressed by it and that the concept of racially induced discrimination and violence was relatively foreign to her.  Which is actually a good thing. 
"They used the 'n' word'!" she stated suddenly, with an oddly fake and exaggerated pose.  She crossed her arms and pouted.   She started speaking in baby talk.
"The 'n' word is bad!"

"She filled up three rooms of the funeral home, it was amazing."
"Really?  That's awesome."
"But the casket was open...."
I was surprised.  I had just assumed she had shot herself, I don't know, as my family tradition seems to dictate.   
"The makeup was weird....she may have hung herself."

"I think gay people should be able to get married."  Amy continued the next day.
"Well, the Supreme Court might make that possible in all of the states, Amy, it is very exciting."
"I know gay people.  My hairdresser is gay and a friend of my mom's is."
I thought of all the other gay people she knew right there at school that she didn't even realize were gay.  Which again, is a good thing.  Why should it matter who her teachers fuck?
"My mom says we are even going to get a female president next time!"
"Yep, maybe, Amy."
"She said the wife of a man that was president a really long time ago will be our next president."
I racked my brain.  A really long time ago?  Like William Harding times or something?
"Oh my God, do you mean Hillary Clinton?!"
"Yeah!  That's her name!"

"Michael is at it again," my sister continued.
"What do you mean......?"
"Drinking."
My stepfather.  Hospitalized on my mother's seventieth birthday last April.   Fatty liver disease, sclerosis.   Had a broken ankle and shoulder for who knows how long and he didn't even know it, the result of drunken falls.  Had to have half of his non-broken foot cut off because of diabetes related gangrene.  Was in the hospital for months and we didn't think he would make it out of there.  The doctors said he wouldn't.  But he did.  Because the insurance cut off, forcing my mother to become his in home nurse.  He also succeeded in destroying the family business and finances of the majority of my immediate family. 
"We were barely out of the house to drive to Michigan for the funeral when he called, bragging of taking mom's 'little car out'".
"Jesus Christ".
"He bought a bottle of rum, drank it and vomited all over the house.  Mom had to call his brother, they found him covered in piss and shit and vomit on the bed."

I smiled and waved at Bailey as he walked up the stairwell.  He smiled back; I could tell that he wanted to talk more but Amy was there.
"THAT is really a girl." Amy whispered after Bailey entered his classroom.
I looked at her closely.
"Bailey is whatever he wants to be.  Bailey is whatever he feels he is." I said lowly.
"Yeah....yeah she is...." Amy answered slowly, brain gears grinding. 

"Hilary, I didn't want to tell you this part.  The other cat is dead, again, like what happened before Christmas.  Michael let the dogs get her.  Mom found her on the porch in a liquor bag."

"Good morning, Amy." I called in greeting the next morning in the stairwell.  My eyes felt fuzzy.
"My dad took me to Revolution Donuts!" she responded, and entered into the tale of the morning. 

Pee

"Teachers, please allow students to enter class late.  We have an eighteen wheeler broken down in the carpool lane."

"I am starving." I mentioned to Abe as I sat in my corner in the stairwell, watching children climb the stairs.  I tried to see the eighteen wheeler through the window, but I was not on the right side of the building. 
"Here!" he said, digging through his lunch box.
"No Abe, no, really, I can't take your lunch."
He continued digging.
"Take it," he instructed, "really, I'm fine, I don't need it."  He had produced a chocolate and coconut Kashi granola bar. 
"No Abe, really, I can't.  But thank you.  Really, thank you.  You are really generous."

"Cabinet members:  our meeting has been moved to the Media Center because of a bad smell.  I repeat:  Meeting moved because of smell."

Robert climbed the stairs with a small line of kids trailing him like ducklings following their leader. 
"Hey Mr. Weiland, looks like they are going to keep the toilets on today!"  I called in way of greeting.
A large, fake smile spread across his face.
"Guess what kids!"  he exclaimed brightly.
"We get to go pee today!"

I sat in our office during my planning, staring at the flowers online. 
"She used to have these stilts...." my sister told me a day earlier.
"She could really move in them, she could like, run all over their backyard on them.  Her hair would just be flying in the wind....she was so....free."
I bought the most brightly colored flowers I could find because they looked like her.  I didn't want stupid white flowers that looked like death.

I sat in the office while a nurse extracted my blood.  After what seemed like a long time, I watched the clock to see how many minutes it was taking.  It was nearly one additional minute before I heard the click of the removed vial and the click of the second vial.  I thought of my mother and my sister racing against the clock to get halfway across the country for the funeral.  I heard another click.

"Wow," the nurse said, relieved.
"You have the smallest veins I have ever worked on.  I didn't think I would ever get it all out.  I'm sorry, but you are going to have black bruising."
"No problem, thank you."
"No!  Thank you!  Have a great day now!"

Stayin' Alive

"She has rocks in her mouth!" my neighbor's child yelled to her mom from the backyard. 
"The dog always does!  Honey...watch out for poo...." she called in return. 
"I have boots on!" the child answered.
"But honey....I really don't want your poo boots in my car.....".

"We will begin dismissing students now.  Students:  stay in your classrooms until you are called".
It was 11:30 in the morning.  The water in most of the city was off because of a huge water pipe break.
"Have you seen the bathrooms?" another teacher whispered to me.
"No, I had no idea anything was going on".
"I have to pee so bad I am about to piss my pants.  I went in there and IT IS DISGUSTING".
"The adult restrooms?"
"YES.  The adult restrooms.  Pee everywhere, on the seat, on the floors, everywhere".
Jesus, people, keep it together.
Our school has over seven hundred elementary-aged students.  Their parents received a robocall and email blast to come and get their kids.  Though it was only a water issue, things were about to be wild.

"PELO!" Oliver called, staring at the red streak in my hair.
"PELO!"
"Yes!  Yes, you are right!"
He drifted off, staring fixedly at my hair.

"His name is Brad.  He's in fourth grade.  I don't know who his teacher is".
"Look, I'm the neighbor, his mom asked me to come and get him, she's at work".
"I'm a grandpa!  I don't know which class she is in!"
Large groups of adults were arriving and crowding in.  Some knew exactly where their kids were and waited patiently, others became frustrated when we couldn't get their kids to them fast enough.  Many friends and family had been sent to pick up kids.  Some had no idea what grade or class the kid was in.  Soon older brothers and sisters from the high school began walking up, sent to pick up their siblings. People were leaving their cars in the middle of the street.  
"We are NOT going to be here tomorrow" a teacher whispered.
"There is no way, the can't fix this thing before tomorrow".

Oliver looked at me and rubbed his cheek.  I rubbed mine in response, did I have something on my face?
"Chica!" he shrieked and giggled.
"CHICA!"
I laughed too.  

As I walked down the sidewalk the following morning, I heard the faint beats of "Stayin' Alive".  I had partied down in anticipation of having the day off and what do you know....the water got fixed!  As I approached the school, "Stayin' Alive" got louder.  It was dark and parents waited in their cars with their kids until we opened the doors.  It was cold.  A man and his daughter sat emotionless in a car with the Bee Gees blaring.  One of them rolled down a window.

"Well you can tell by the way I use my walk....." the Bee Gees sang, followed by extreme falsettos, a driving bass line and a bunch of "ah ah ahs". The parking lot was filled with the beat as students and teachers strutted to the music at just a little after seven in the morning.  

Welcome to the Jungle

"Abe, you must be freezing." I called to the short sleeve wearing boy that was mounting the stairs while the weather was, like, arctic.  I was seated at my post in the corner of the stairwell, watching kids climb the stairs and later in the afternoon, I would watch kids go down the stairs. 
"No.  I am HYPOsensitive to weather."  he replied.
"So you're like, really sensitive?"
"NO.  Hyposensitive means I am not effected by weather."
"Oh, okay."
"One of my moms covers me in jackets whenever I go outside.  It is horrible."  Abe continued.
"And the thing is, I have TWO moms, so it is even worse."
"So, do you think dads are not as worried about stuff like that?"
"Definitely.  See you later." he said, with a surprise little side hug before climbing another flight of stairs. 

I drove my cranky car to the shop with my sister tailing me in Alec's car.  My coach has been making horrible noises for a while.  It sounds like the wheels are going to fall off.  I have been driving Alec's car for about a month.  I like his car.  It is a nine year old silver Honda hybrid.  I feel like I'm riding in style and that I look professional in this efficient, tidy car. 

"We have a new student!" a student announced.
"Hey, what's your name?"  I asked.
"Enya."
"And where did you go to school before you came here?"
"Azerbaijan."
Uh, okay.
"Wow.  How do you speak such perfect English?"
"Oh, I was born in the U.S.; I have just lived in Azerbaijan for a really long time!"
"Awesome!  What um, brought you over there?"
"My parents worked there."
"And what do they do?"
"They work for the CDC."
"Oh, you will be right at home here." I told her, relieved.  I looked around the room as the children of the MERS doctors, the Ebola doctors, the SARS doctors, the EVERY SCARY DISEASE doctors, smiled and nodded at her. 

"Ms. Hilary, I would like you to meet my student teacher, Ms. Sherman."
"I know you......" she said, puzzled.
"I know you too...." I answered, trying to place from where.
"YOU WERE MY HIGH SCHOOL SPANISH TEACHER!"  she squealed.  The class started laughing.
"Leslie!  Ohhhhhh, you are going to be an elementary school teacher?!" I asked, delighted.
"I hope to be..." she said quietly. 
"Wow guys, that is crazy.  I feel one hundred years old!" I told the class.
"And you taught Conrad at his old school and here!" one answered.
"That's right, No Pants, I have a wide reach.  No one can escape me."

"I have a connection to the Central Idea." James informed me.
"Even though I celebrate Christmas, that doesn't show what I really believe because I'm an atheist."
I made the 'me too' symbol while he spoke.
"People say I can't do that, because I don't believe in Jesus.  But I think I can, it's fun, I spend time with my family, we just don't do the God stuff."
"I understand completely.  I am the same way."
"Really?"
"Yes."
He smiled secretively and walked away.

"Opera is my weakness!" Jonas exclaimed when I told him that the Atlanta Opera was giving a performance at our school THAT MORNING.  He approached me in my stairwell corner and smashed his head against my forehead.
"Look!  They are right there, in the Music room, getting warmed up."
We heard the characteristic fa-la-las from the room.
At 8:30 in the morning, I sat with my class as the group began an hour long opera session.  I don't think I have ever seen live opera before.  I was strangely excited.  As the lights dimmed, I felt relaxed.  I glanced over and saw Oliver smiling and clapping, though he was surrounded by hundreds of children.  I smiled and marveled at the fact that I was at work, and that I have a great job. 

I walked to Alec's car after dropping mine off.  Holly jumped from the driver's side as we switched seats.  I was shocked when I got in.  In a matter of seven minutes, the car had been transformed.   The seat was all of the way back in nearly a lying down position.  The heat was up full blast; it was over eighty degrees in there.  "Welcome to the Jungle" screamed from the radio.
"Don't worry," Holly informed me "I programed the station in." she stated with a little smirk.
"So, you taking me to the grocery?".