I wanted to go more into the story of how I became a social worker before I got into ranting about specific happenings about my job, but, alas, one makes plans and God laughs.
I am sure that this is not an experience unique to me, but I feel as if I am thinking constantly about a hundred different things at once. I see, hear, read, or experience things that then feel as if they get stuck in my head bouncing from side to side like ping pong balls without an equal force to stop them. I do not think that this is a bad thing per se, but I do feel as if I cannot get them out of my head at times. That is why I have sporadically journaled over the years, it helps “unstick” the thoughts. As mentioned previously though, I was never great at being consistent with the journals, so we have arrived at another primary reason for the blog— to share my ping pong ball thoughts with my loyal subscribers and the random people on WordPress that have somehow found my blogposts. Shout out to all of you! Pat yourself on the back!
In the past few weeks there have been two experiences with students at the junior high school I currently work at as my primary, full time job that have left me unsettled, to put it lightly. The first being with a student whom we will call in this blog Amy.
I could write at length about Amy’s backstory, but for our purposes we’ll hit the SparkNotes: Amy has an insane home life. She has never met her father and does not know who he is. A couple months ago her step dad figure (unsure of how long he was in the picture) left their lives for reasons I am unaware, and he was shortly replaced when a new man and his young child moved into their house with seemingly little explanation given to Amy and her siblings. She regularly gets into arguments with her mom and she reports that her younger sister regularly will “tell on” her with the sole purpose of getting Amy in trouble. Perhaps, it’s an unreliable narrator, but I am inclined to believe her.
Amy’s mom regularly called the school to report concerns with her daughter, however these concerns are things that quite frankly do not seem like a big deal and I am still unsure of exactly what she expected us to do about it. Amy, wanting to be like her peers (not at all uncommon at this age), would go to school and borrow her friends makeup, which according to her mother would make her look like a “prostitute and a whore”. A wild assertion to be made about a thirteen year old, especially from one’s own mother.
A few months ago, following a particularly heated argument at home, Amy attempted suicide and spent several weeks in a behavioral health hospital and later on a partial hospitalization program. Her mom told us that she hopes this would “fix” her kid and teach her to respect her mom. A wild assertion to be made about a thirteen year old that just attempted suicide, especially from one’s own mother.
The story of our first crime begins with our school’s principal calling me and asking me to talk to Amy because, unbeknownst to Amy in that moment, she was going to be arrested for assaulting her mom that morning… Amy told me the same story that she told our principal. That morning, Amy and her mom were arguing about something that morning and her sister tried to go into their mom’s bedroom to take some money set aside for her to use at the book fair that day. Her mom noticed the sister and began to hit her, and Amy intervened by throwing a shoe at her mom. Her mom’s wrath turned to Amy where she began hitting her while continuing to curse at her in Polish. While doing this, Amy said that she picked up the phone and called the police. A wild action to be taken on a thirteen year old, especially from one’s own mother.
Who committed the crime?
That depends on who you ask. The judgmental tones directed towards Amy softened after hearing this story, but they soon returned when the school resource officer was sent to the elementary school to verify the story with Amy’s sister. Whatever Amy’s sister said convinced every adult besides myself that Amy was lying through her teeth. Amy was arrested, but who committed the crime?
Call me a softie, but kids do not assault their parents in a vacuum. The story that an ill tempered, wild child attacked their good natured, dedicated parent is simply made up every time.
I’ve long suspected that Amy has undiagnosed, high-functioning Autism. Not quite serious enough to remarkably impact her functioning, but it certainly plays a role in the way Amy displays and reads social cues and certainly did not help her in relaying these stories. Amy tells me that her mom told her sister that she would be arrested too if she told the full story. Fear can be a powerful, if immoral, motivator.
Now perhaps the story Amy relayed to me is not entirely true, but my intuition tells me that Amy was not a liar on that day. I found myself as seemingly the only one in the room willing to extend the benefit of the doubt or the warm hand of empathy to the child in need sitting directly before me. That’s so fucked up. An understatement, yet one of the only ping pong balls I can catch in my hand. I ask myself again, who committed the crime? Knowing the answer yet powerless to do anything, we press on.
Our second crime was only a few days later and regards a student whom we will call Nathan. Nathan was extremely truant last year, was in school most of the first quarter, and then his attendance significantly dropped off since. After missing twenty days straight, he was unenrolled from the district. Nathan reports having anxiety about the missed work which kept him from coming back yet in cruel irony compounded the issue he perceived as the root of his own anxiety.
Nathan has an IEP and was do for a reevaluation, yet attendance can be considered a disqualifying factor for special education under his eligibility. Presumably the law caught up to the family as they approached the district about reenrolling a couple weeks ago leading to what was the strangest IEP domains meeting I have ever attended.
A domain meeting is essentially a meeting prior to conducting an evaluation where all relevant tests and information are presented to the parent in order to obtain consent to evaluate. This meeting in particular also had an assistant superintendent and our district registrar in attendance.
There was something deeply off about this situation, and I still cannot put my finger on it. It seemed as if his mom was feeding Nathan lines and that there was something behind the curtain of which we are woefully unaware. Now, most of the people there knew that it is unlawful for a parent to willfully keep their child from receiving an education, but it did not stop many people there from coming down hard on Nathan seemingly disregarding knowledge of how a true anxiety diagnosis may be affecting him. The amount of pressure and almost animosity directed towards Nathan himself was enough to make me uncomfortable just listening. And what does Nathan need to be successful? Is it pressure and high stakes?
Absolutely none of this is meant to disparage or cast doubt on the other people involved in these situations. They are hard working, dedicated people whom I deeply respect. I am newer to the field, and I do not always have all the information or even accurate information— but I ask again, who committed the crime?
Let’s fast forward to today… In between this domain meeting and today another one of my students has been arrested for completely different reasons, and, yet, nothing quite prepares you for the simple fact that as a social worker you are most likely to know personally the students— kids— being arrested and entered into an unjust and unkind justice system which bastardizes that which it claims to uphold.
Today, I sit in front of one of my favorite students as she tells me, “you understand me.” An assertion that seems to slow down the ping pong balls as I remember what it is that I am trying to do here… I am stuck in a world of systems where I cannot change everything, but I know that I can try to at least understand the students with whom I cross paths— for that is what many of them need. I cannot change everything about their situations, but I can try to ease the blow.
[title pending] 