I was so surprised that this memory just popped into my head today that I have to say it was brought forward by God. Being, this particular block of time felt like I had been led by Him while I was there.
When the oriental furniture store I had worked at for about five years was sold to a new owner, I stayed for about two months. I could not take watching this new owner ruin what had once been a beautiful business. There was a rather long list of repeat customers who had come to rely on the honest integrity of this company through the years.
While looking through the newspaper of the job openings to choose from, I decided that I needed to take a break from retail. I found a secretarial position in a company that sounded like marine biology, by the name of it. When I applied, I was called in for an interview. I was totally not expecting that I had actually replied to a position at a school for youths at risk.
I had never even heard of that term. This school was for teenagers from the age of 14 to 18 who had been court-ordered to attend. They were brought and taken home by a school bus every day. The title of my position was Operations Secretary. I was accepted and would start the following week.
I went home thinking that I had totally stumbled into this job, and what was I thinking! That is until I found that God was in residence of this facility. The Operation Manager was like a drill sergeant with the kids, while his assistant (The Assistant Operations Manager) happened to be an ordained minister. I use the word ‘happened’ with humor. It also happened that the Program Manager was a minister as well. While they could not preach inside the school, they brought to the table the ability to teach these children morals, values, and principles. The Executive Director was a woman who recognized the potential in every child and some of the employees. That was a great thing for me. I found that I was way over my head regarding my daily duties.
While getting used to the procedures that needed to be implemented every day, I found a few of my duties that I loved and some not so much. If a child did not come to school for even one day, they were expected to bring a doctor’s note upon their return. If a doctor’s letter was not provided, I needed to write up a report and then call the police to come and take the child to Juvenile Hall.
Being the Operations Secretary, it was my desk that the officer would come to. I had to have the child brought to the office, and the police officer would handcuff that child in front of me. Every single time I would tear up for the child. My duty was to notify the parents about their child being arrested. When they were told that their child had been picked up by the police, most would try to argue with me why that was not fair. I could not believe the reaction or excuses that most of these parents would give to why their son or daughter was absent. I would politely remind them that they needed to take their argument to the judge that sentenced their child.
I had a hard time understanding half of these parents. Being polite was not always easy, having just witnessed their son or daughter being taken away in handcuffs. Why could they not understand that whatever their child had done to break the law and be sentenced was far greater and much more severe than some childish prank at school where they had been put in detention? One mother in particular finally got a rise out of me when she explained why she kept her son out of school. She needed someone to watch her younger son, as the babysitter had not shown up. I abruptly reminded her who the supposed adult was in her family. Her responsibility for how her youngest child was cared for that day was hers and not her 16-year-old son’s. The court order for her son clearly spelled out that should a doctor’s note not be provided, the child in question would be arrested. I concluded the conversation with zero compassion for the mother, rudely suggesting that she notify the judge and let him know her feelings on his ruling.
There were usually only around 25 or more students in this school. Each and everyone had a different attitude and a different story. All of them had an equal chance to right their wrongs and learn. I knew every one of their names and greeted them with respect and a warm smile. I had their respect in return. I could honestly say I cared for each of those children. There were a few; however, that stood above the rest.
This one boy, in particular, was a bright young man of 14. When he was brought in on the first day, I could see that he was very respectful and extremely shy. This is a little unusual for this type of school. Most of the children would come in with a chip on their shoulder and a lot of ‘attitude’ to show how tough they were.
Preparing the file of this young man, I now started to understand why he was different. He had been introduced to crack by his own mother. She then would get high with him on the weekends and expect him to back off from the drug during the week and go to school. Eventually, the school became aware of his and his mother’s drug addiction and notified the state. They took the boy out of the mother’s home when the state got involved. Instead of sentencing him to a juvenile facility, the judge placed him in his grandparents’ home. Then, the judge court ordered him to our school.
Apparently, this judge saw precisely what was needed and followed through. This young man not only excelled in his classes, but you could see his true personality start to come alive again. It was clear that he adored his grandparents. He also missed his mom. He knew she was wrong for what she had done, but he had forgiven her. I was very impressed with this young man. I had to bite my tongue on several occasions when he told me how much he missed his mom. I had no respect for the woman solely because she put her son in harm’s way.
Within just a few short months, this young boy was respected by the entire faculty and most of the students. He truly was excelling. I had an opportunity to speak with his grandparents and could see why. Not only did he adore them, but they adored him too. So much so that they knew that as much as it would hurt, they needed to practice and maintain tough love while this young man was in their care.
I believe the young man was just about two months away from completing his sentence when the courts allowed him to have a weekend visit with his mother. By this time, I was actually happy for him. Of course, no one knew the condition the mother had been hiding.
The following week we found out. There was a meeting scheduled with the grandparents and the head of the Teacher’s Administration. Something had happened over the weekend with this young man and his mother. The mother had been lying the whole time about being clean. She was not, and on the weekend, had tempted her son to take crack. Sadly he did.
The Teacher’s Administrator came into my office on the morning of the meeting and asked me for my help. I looked up with surprise and said, of course. She explained that our young man could not go into that meeting with his grandparents because he could not tell them what he had done. He could not go back home with them if he didn’t tell them. The Administrator asked me if I would talk to the young man. She added that I seem to have such a rapport with him that I might get him to listen. I told her, of course, I would try, please send him in.
It was everything I could do to not cry when he walked in. He would not look at me, and you could barely hear him answer me when I greeted him. I could not tell him I knew what was wrong, but I wouldn’t have needed to. His reaction to the greeting clearly suggested something was wrong, so I just went with that.
I got up and came around the desk and asked what was wrong? His reply was that he had crack with his mom over the weekend, and now he had to tell his grandparents. He was trying very hard not to cry. I asked him if he knew that he was going to do crack before the weekend. He said no, and that he even told his mom no at first, but she talked him into it. Again it was everything I could do to keep my opinions of his mother from spewing from my mouth. This was not about her, and I needed to focus on this young man.
I asked him why it bothered him about having to tell his grandparents. His answer was everything I needed to know to proceed where I thought this conversation needed to go. He was not worried about any type of punishment. He was horrified at what he had done and knew it would break his grandparent’s hearts.
At this time, he still had his chin on his chest. It was clear he was still too emotional to raise his eyes to look at me or anything else in the room. I moved close to his right side, almost shoulder touching shoulder. As my mouth opened up, God’s words came out (I felt like a spectator looking on); I asked the young man if he ever played baseball, his answer was yes. I wondered if he was ever stuck on second base and needed an out-of-the-ballpark hit from the batter to get home; thankfully, his response was yes. Then I asked him to imagine when the ball was hit. It was clearly a long hit…that the crowds are yelling “run, run,” so you run from second base to third. As you round third, it’s going to be close. Still, you feel you can make it, and the last couple of feet, you drop and full-body slide to the home plate, and you made it! I then bent myself almost upside down to look in his eyes and said, “when you stand up, do you not do this?” I was making brushing motions on my jeans. He nodded yes. I very gently put my forefinger on his chin. Without forcing him to, I gently raised his head just a little as I said, “What happened to you over the weekend is kind of like a wagon ride. You see, when people are addicted to anything, and they fight that addiction, it is called “Being on the wagon .”Sometimes, the ride on that wagon gets rough; it gets so bumpy that you fall off the wagon, like your weekend with your mom. When you fell off the wagon, you got a little dusty falling face-first on the ground. It is now time to brush off the dust and get back on the wagon. I believe your grandparents know that you are human and bound to make a mistake. I believe that they will forgive you. I want you to make absolutely sure that you mean every word you are going to tell them. Should you be tempted again, remember these feelings that you are having now BEFORE you touch whatever the temptation is.”
I sent him back to his meeting and mentally held my breath until the Administrator came in. The look on her face was hard to read, so I almost shouted, “what happened?” She said, “I don’t know what you told that young man, but there was not a dry eye in that room, including my own, as that young man told the truth and then apologized to them.” I had tears in my eyes as I asked her if it was O.K. for him to go home with them. The answer was yes.
Before she left my office, she turned and said, “You have a God-given gift to help people emotionally. You need to go do something about that.”