The Homies

I know it has been over two years. This is where we are now. These are the characters:

DP- He came here in the Jr. High almost three years ago. He is all about the hood and the homies and the locs. He can be charming and has a sense of curiosity and desire to learn. He is easily distracted and prone to bringing the hood into the class. Nigga this and nigga that and Fam you shoulda a seen this shit...and on and on and the cell phone and the ipod and the Psp and the new shoes and the sagging jeans and the boxers. It's all about the distractions. He came to Crossroads last year from the Jr. High. LO said he needed a smaller environment and a predictable routine. By the end of the year he had toned down his act came to school every day and earned full credit. He asked if he could be in Crossroads again to start the year. We have a trust. He does what I say. He has lost a little ground and old behaviors have come back though not as severe. I hope to move him out at the end of the quarter.

LD- He is friends with DP. Similar in his hyperactivity and constant obsession with all things in the hood and on the streets. He too can be charming. His pants sag so much that he waddles when he walks. For a while last year he sucked on a pacifier. But he can quickly escalate into a state of explosive anger and profanity. It is a familiar pattern of learned behavior that he seems unwilling to break. Again the cell phone often plays a major role. Often it is his mother on the other end calling in the middle of class about something that happened at home or in the hood. Something stolen or missing from the house. Something somebody said or did. She says we treat her son unfairly and it is us that are the cause of his outbursts. Last year she kicked him out of the house and sent him to live with a friend for several weeks because of an argument they had. Another time she came to school with him and another son she brought along who does not go to school here, went to the 3rd floor and confronted another kid for something said in the hood. I broke up the near fight got them into an office and tried to sort things out. They all smelled of weed.The brother said yeah he was smoking but not LD. I wondered where was the mother while this was going on. What was she thinking to come into the school with sons in tow smelling of weed and looking to fight? She was offended that I spoke harshly to her son. He had skipped the morning and only came now to confront the kid and perform in a talent show for 6th hour. I said go home. Now he is back for one more try. In spite of multiple phone calls to him and his mother in which they agree on a time to meet for re-entry they show up 3 hours late and miss the chance to sign up for school. Nothing has changed. He will not make it. The tragedy is that he is well aware of his foibles and triggers but falls back on the familiar.

OF- When he came last year he was on probation and and living in shelter. Considered a ward of the state. His father is undocumented and nowhere to be found. His mother died when he was five. He has lived on the streets for a year. He stole a car got caught and was locked up. He says straight out that he does not care for school. He wears his hair long and has delicate features. He says he is not in a gang but only hangs out with those guys. That is a lie. He is 18th St. He has a foundation of learning from early school in Mexico. He is bright and engaged in class. He says it is only because he has no choice. He was able to leave the shelter and live with an aunt that they found. By summer she had kicked him out and now he lives at the home of another student. He has been in a lot of drama. He has a big mouth and never backs down. He comes to school every day. He is balancing on a thread. I wonder how long he can keep it up.

RA- He has been here since Jr. High. A friendly, playful, lovable kid who cannot focus or get things done. He lives across the street with his mother. We have known his family for years. He did not want to be in Crossroads. His mother and I gave him no choice. He needs a smaller environment and consistent structure. By the end of last school year he was earning full credit and changing his behavior. When I saw him in August he asked if he could come back to Crossroads. How could I refuse? Oh yeah. He is 18th St.

TA- From the Jr. High. Cambodian. He has family here. Always the cap and hood. Quiet and sometimes moody. So far he is trying to work hard. He writes in street talk and tries to use 5's instead of s"s. 5 point stars all over his papers. He represents Asian Bloods.

GN- A West Side Blood. Was here 3 years ago in Jr. High. Truancy and Weed were his downfall. Once they did a home visit and the house was filthy and reeked of weed. The mother didn't even try to hide the pipes and bongs on the coffee table. A few week later the house got raided and the kids went to foster homes for a while. Now he is back home. Says he wants to graduate. So far he has been here every day. He works hard and tries to please. He has a girl friend in the 11th grade. It appears to be an unhealthy relationship. Other staff have seen him pushing her around. His calmness explodes into uncontrollable anger. He is in denial. Somethings gotta give.

UG. Another 18th St. Quiet. Could be an extra in one of those cop shows set in LA. Shaved head. A homey holding down the barrio. So far he works hard and keeps a low profile. His efforts to connect with me defy gangsta looks.

WR. A new kid. He is 17 and has not earned credit in 2 years. His mother says he's been sent home or in detention for bad behavior. She looks tired. She has given up. He seems unaware that he has a problem. He all about style. The belt, the jeans, a Sponge Bob back pack, cell phone, ipod, headphones, and being a clown. I am afraid he will wear my patience and burn his last bridge.

TA. Could be WR's slightly darker twin. They even speak with the same style and inflections. Only he has writing skills and seems eager to please. But he likes to get WR going and then stand back and watch the action. He has a Spiderman back pack.

DC. Quick to connect. A new student but knows everyone. He is friendly and easy going. Was locked up for stabbing one of his homeys. Was unable to tell me the clear details and circumstances of how it happened. Both of his parents came to the interview. Neither of them could tell me either. He has a genuine innocence about him in spite of what happened. I do not believe he was being evasive or defiant in not telling me clear details. He honestly did not know and could not grasp what happened.

Back On The Road

9/23/09

I am still here. In this place. Some have passed and moved on. Others were left on the side of the road because they could not keep up. Still others wandered into the swamp and became tangled in the morass of vines and quicksand. Lost.

Time has passed and much has not been said. Let me start again. I have tales to tell.

The Catcher in the Rye

I know the metaphor has probably been used before. I know that this is all I know how to do. But lately I have grown weary. They just keep running right off the cliff. I trip them.I throw nets. I grab. I tackle. I hit them with rocks. Just to stun them. But still they keep coming. Still they keep jumping.I am only getting older. January is almost over and I just want to lie down in the rye and go to sleep. Take a little nap. I can hear the screaming chatter of their voices fade to murmurs as I drift off.

I stacked a load of firewood this weekend. Four perfect rows. Six feet high. I stacked them 2x2 against a wall in the garage. After I finished I returned time after time to gaze at the perfect organic symmetry. I could do this for a living. Give me 5 dollars an hour. Some beans and rice.

No. I will come to my senses. Get up Monday. Back to the field of rye. Even if I can keep one from falling. Throw him down. Place my foot directly on his neck. Hold him down long enough for him to wake up. There is a cliff over there you idiot. Oh he will say. Thank you. I didn't know.

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

What rough beast is this? I have been slogging. We all slog at this time. There is no real winter but the drudgery sets in and effects us all. The attendance is falling. Behaviors get stuck and repeat themselves. Endlessly. The 9 are still here. I suppose most are doing well. Consider the nature of the beast. That is what I remind myself. We finished December with a science week on The Laws of Motion. They all got through. Some better than before. Some not. For now we rest.

My Doggz

Cesar Milan is The Dog Whisperer. He says dogs really only need 3 things to be happy: Exercise. Discipline. Affection. In that order. I am on this road with a pack of dogs. Lately I have tried to make exercise a part of our routine. We have always done the walks. They use the walks to smoke cigarettes. As it becomes colder we have have gone to the gym for our breaks. They hoop. I watch. I watch how they interact as a pack. I look for signs of the hierarchy of the pack. I have not seen an alpha or an omega. They banter and they tease but it all evens out. I would think that A with his slightly effeminate mannerisms would be the omega. But he holds his own on the court. He is athletic and quick. He is fearless. He is the only one in the pack besides R with a girlfriend. It gives him a secret status. I know the others have seen them entwined against the wall or in the stairwells between classes. R's girlfriend is expecting any day now. I suspect she is more like a wife than a girlfriend. When we first get to the gym there is a sort of 5 minute period of pure energy release. Balls flying wildly across the floor before it becomes one ball and they organize themsleves into 2 opposing teams out of the random chaos. The teams are always a little different each time but they are always evenly matched. I am amazed to watch their sense of fairness and self-regulating even as they compete against each other. I have never had to intervene. They invite me to ref. I am afraid I would just get in their way. I know that none of them have ever played organized sports. They all play so hard. I have watched them go full on for over half an hour and continue to play even when I tell them it is time to go to lunch. At first I thought maybe I was cheating them out of academic time by bringing them to the gym. No this is therapy far more important than the wanderings of Francisco Coronado or the founding of Jamestown.

The discipline is the routine we practice. The the tasks that I give them. They grumble and whine but no one has ever outright refused. The alpha rules by the force of his presence. Not by bullying or intimidation. The pack follows the alpha because they trust him. It is a delicate balance when the dogs are teenage boys.

I bring them pastries on Fridays. I am not above bribing them with treats. My weak attempt at affection.

End of the Quarter

The new quarter began last week. This is how it stands. There were 12 at one time. Now there are 9. B was the first to loose his way. The truancy and family were too much. He made his choice. It was already made for him. The pathology is too deep. He will wait patiently until he becomes too old for them to move. His mother will let this happen.

N had to go. The drama with the 13's was too much. They locked him up. 2 weeks later the PO called asking if he could come back. He could not. I saw him walking down the street alone. Head down. Hat pulled low. I saw his PO days later. She says he is on the run again. He has warrants.

M ran from home a few days after court. They had him on ISP. It has been weeks now. We have heard nothing.

The 9 are still here. All of them have earned more credit than they have ever earned. They are coming every day. There is still a lot of work. Anything can happen. We are 1 week into the 2nd quarter.

Monday

R-1 is not here. His attendance has been perfect for weeks. I see his soon to be baby's mama. I ask where is he? She says he must be home sleeping. She looks sheepish. But she is not his mama.

M is on the run. The ISP has a warrant. He will get locked up. Maybe placed somewhere out of his home.

We have just finished a reading from the journal of Alvar Nunez de Cabeza de Vaca about his encounters with the indigenous. How he and his handful of men survived years in a savage strange land. We watched the Roger Corman film Cabeza de Vaca. He survives captivity to become a wandering healer among the indigenous. Finally he finds a party of Conquistadors. He questions his own religion. His men boast of fantastic cities. Cities of gold. He is silent. Francisco Corornado soon sets out to find the cities. There are 7. He takes with him The Requerimiento. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Requerimiento. We read The Requerimiento. I deconstruct and break down the vocab. They must write a letter in response to the document.

E steals a black sharpie from A who is helping him write his letter. He asks for her apple. She gives it to him. He takes her orange too. She finds the apple smashed in the hallway. There is fresh graffiti on the wall outside the bathroom and inside.
I hear this. I say to A that we must confront him. She is hesitant. We have too. Yes he took the sharpie. No he did not do the graffiti. I say he can't return until he replaces the sharpie and cleans the walls. I call his mother. Her son does not do graffiti. We can't prove it. Never mind he stole the sharpie. He smashed the apple because it had a hole in it. None of this was her mijo's fault.
She is not concerned with his disrespectful behavior. Only that we cannot prove he wrote 13k on the walls. But he will return tommorow with the black sharpie and he will clean the walls even though he did not do it.

Sorting Out The Pieces

Aftermath: The consequences or aftereffects of an event. Esp when unpleasant.

N shows up Tuesday as if nothing had happened. Gone the day after. Gone Monday. I say we must wait until we talk with the PO. He insists that it is cool. Everything is cool. What's the big deal? I bring up his Myspace site. He is stunned. His facade is cool. A big misunderstanding. He will delete his Myspace. He is here. He just wants to go to school. It wasn't his fault. Wrong place. Wrong time. For an instant he forces himself to cry. But he can't sustain it. I had fallen for it once before. It was a calculated act. On cue.

I know it is not his fault. He did not calculate his life. I know well and good that he is a victim of his own circumstance. His fucked up family. His mother. His adolescent brain. Still there are consequences and reprecussions. Go home till we sort this thing out.

At noon the PO arrives. There is a warrant for N. He has not been home since that day. They know he is at home now. They go to get him. For the greater good he cannot come back. I wonder what will happen.

I am sick all week. A bad cold. I am losing my voice. It hurts to talk. I have to talk.

M returned this week after a court hearing which put him on ISP. Now he has a team of 3 POs. Any wrong move gives him 24 hours in lock-up. He is not happy. There will also be family therapy in the home. Keeping him at the Road will be hard. Earlier in the week I had a dream that 3 of his younger brothers were here to sign up for school. I was told I had to take them. I walked into the room and there they were around a table. The same green eyes as his. Glowing from their hood covered heads. They smiled. They had very sharp teeth.

She has a running theme lately. Men being men. Men showing boys how to be men. Boys with emeshed mommies. Let the men step in. Solve it like men. Months ago in the NYTs I read about teenage boy elephants run amuck on binges of pure malice and destruction. Their daddies were gone or dead. No men. Only boys. Lost without men. Emeshed to their mommies.N,E,B,M. They are all teenage boy elephants.

She is part of the case management now. She oversees the hard work. The therapy part. Cuts through the dance. While she herself is figuring out the dance. She is amazed at the complexities of the development of teenage brains. She reminds us of this. Draws our attentions to this. She pulls no punches. She sorts out the pieces.