I was a young, new, school teacher. My husband was in Seminary at the time, and work was not an option. I wanted to teach, and my job was accepted long distance. I didn’t look at the school.
It was an inner-city school, and every teacher was important there. The children were behind in their studies, and we would as a school, catch them up.
I had one, child who was imbalanced, and I would have to hold him while he had his fits. He was given to me, because I came late, and the teachers gave me 5 students from their classes. He had fits of anger in the other class, but the teacher let him sleep, and he didn’t always wake until it was time for lunch. Then he could cry all he wanted, but he wasn’t given any attention.
I was new on the block. This was my second, year of teaching, and, this grade was new to me. I knew my skills, but having a child who was so vulnerable to falling over the edge was hard to take. I wanted to help him. I wrote about him, and filled out papers. In the Spring he left so he could get help. I think about this child who is now a man. Did he make it in life? Would he still be alive? He is younger than I am. That is all I know.