Walking to my car I noticed him. At first I thought he was friends with some people a few cars down. However, their stern Spanish words and his hasty retreat told me he did not know them.
Ignoring his timid, “Excuse me...” I quickly stuffed my bags in the car, hopped in and turned the ignition. Then I just sat there watching him fade into the darkness. This was a semi-rough section of Greenville Avenue here in Dallas and he couldn’t have been more than 13 years old. Based on the condition of his clothes and his less than persistent approach method, I believe he’s a novice at this game
I don’t know why I ignored him. I don’t even know what he was asking for. I assumed money, but he may only wanted to know the time. I never gave him the chance to ask...so I don’t know.
Driving away I felt guilty. I considered turning back to give him some money, but I had already turned, and Greenville can be hard to turn around on, and he may have walked back behind the buildings, and what if he has a gun or some other weapon, and I probably wouldn’t find him anyway...and...and...and...
As I drove home, my mental list of excuses became quite massive.
It’s been about a week since that happened and I can’t get him out of my head. I’ve driven down that section of Greenville several times since then and even though I don’t know if he’s black, white, green, purple or orange, I look for him. I don’t know, maybe I’m hopping to get a second chance.
Maybe it was his age. Maybe it’s my age. Maybe it’s the fact that I have a student in my class this year who’s teetering on the edge of homelessness. Whatever the case, for some reason this young boy looking for help, coupled with my uncaring reaction, has left a mark on me that won’t soon go away.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Saturday, March 08, 2008
What's become of me...
No, I haven’t died or fallen off the face of the earth. My computer hasn’t blown up and I didn’t loose all my fingers in some freaky teaching accident. I’ve just simply been away for a while...a long while. However, I think I’ve figured out what has happened.
You see writing has always been an escape for me. I come home, sit at the computer and lose myself in the keyboard. Whatever I happen to be writing magically lures me away to some distant land where the real world, with all its schedules and tasks and problems, can’t hope to find me. And that’s how it’s always been.
However, from late November to about this time of year, if you’re a fourth grade teacher in Texas, something changes. It’s a thing known as “The Writing TAKS Test.”
Suddenly my world transforms from a regular world to one that quite simply revolves around writing. When you come after a full day of leads and conclusions and storyboards and vivid verbs and adjectives and “exploding the moment” and revising and editing and so on and so on and so on...then, at least for me, writing has lost its ability to be an escape.
Writing and I become bitter enemies as I struggle to help little Johnny understand that every sentence must have a subject AND a predicate. Or I’m helping Betty grasp the complexities of how such a small word like “is” can be the simple predicate of an entire sentence. And then I’m trying to explain how in the sentence, “My friends and I go for a run.” The word “run” is actually a noun and not a verb. And with my next breath I find myself re-explaining why, even though a dog can walk and run and bark, the word “dog” is not a verb.
I’m hoping now that this first part of my TAKS Test season is over, writing will be able to make the transition back from a desert of solitude, which it has become, to my oasis of peace which it as always been.
I’ll just have to wait and see.
You see writing has always been an escape for me. I come home, sit at the computer and lose myself in the keyboard. Whatever I happen to be writing magically lures me away to some distant land where the real world, with all its schedules and tasks and problems, can’t hope to find me. And that’s how it’s always been.
However, from late November to about this time of year, if you’re a fourth grade teacher in Texas, something changes. It’s a thing known as “The Writing TAKS Test.”
Suddenly my world transforms from a regular world to one that quite simply revolves around writing. When you come after a full day of leads and conclusions and storyboards and vivid verbs and adjectives and “exploding the moment” and revising and editing and so on and so on and so on...then, at least for me, writing has lost its ability to be an escape.
Writing and I become bitter enemies as I struggle to help little Johnny understand that every sentence must have a subject AND a predicate. Or I’m helping Betty grasp the complexities of how such a small word like “is” can be the simple predicate of an entire sentence. And then I’m trying to explain how in the sentence, “My friends and I go for a run.” The word “run” is actually a noun and not a verb. And with my next breath I find myself re-explaining why, even though a dog can walk and run and bark, the word “dog” is not a verb.
I’m hoping now that this first part of my TAKS Test season is over, writing will be able to make the transition back from a desert of solitude, which it has become, to my oasis of peace which it as always been.
I’ll just have to wait and see.
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