Tuesday, October 9, 2007

The Shit

There's this kid at the group home I work at. He came home from school on Friday in trouble with his teacher. I guess he had to write a poem for class and he was, like most fifteen year old boys I've ever known, none too crazy about the idea, so he gave her some grief over it. I know his version of giving grief and it's not all that fun. There was a bright yellow post it note when I came in to work Saturday night, asking for someone to, "Please help him with it. Due Monday."
So I did, and though I talk all tough with him, that kid made me laugh my head off at the kitchen table, spending all his time flexing his scrawny boy arms with their weird grown man bulge of a muscle in the middle. He's so proud of that muscle. And finally, when he stopped flexing long enough to think of other things than his arms, I asked him some questions and he wrote this poem, and he was so proud of that poem, too. He pinned a copy up on the staff bulletin board. And when I read it to another staff for him because he doesn't like to read out loud, he kept smiling and nodding his head like, "That's the shit, man. That's the shit." And it is.


Grade seven,
My sixth school.
Walked into the classroom,
Awkward. Silent.
They looked at me,
"Who's this kid?"
In my desk,
felt like marble
(the kind I still sit in today)
No one talked to me,
Not even the teacher,
Except Jason.

By S.


Aaron Stewart said...

Wow there's a whole lot of underlying issues that someone should really be helping this boy process. Or maybe he's just shy?

Aaron Stewart said...

Also I thought it was great, wasn't ragging on it. :)

christy said...

I think it's great, too! And what a unique gift for you, to help him see that he has poetry inside of him.

Sandy said...

Awe! You and he did good!

Angela said...

if you're a kid who's ended up in a group home you have no underlying issues. they're all right out in the open screaming their faces off for everyone to see!
i'm so proud of that kid. he's had so much to overcome and he's doing so well. it makes me all happy.

thanks, christy and sandy.
these kids are so wordless, hey? they're at such a disadvantage with the abuse and abandonments they've suffered, and f.a.s.d and a.d.d and a.d.h.d and all the things that go along with poverty and bottom of the ladder position they were born into. i feel so blessed to have helped him in telling a tiny part of what that experience is for him. so, so blessed.

Cecily said...

Made me all weepy. Thanks Angela. Man I love hearing about what you do in that group home - I'm sure it's not all flowers and niceness, but I love when you tell us those moments of greatness.

Mike S said...

Nice work. Having had 16 foster teens over the period of the 90s I can appreciate their problems being 'out there'. Looks like you found an extra special one there.

On another note, our daughter's (who's in Calgary)husband works in group homes. Funny how people's lives have commonalities you'd never expect.

Cherie said...

You go, S. That's a superb poem. Full. To the point. Beeyooteeful. I hear ya....

And Angela, a pat on your back, too.

Ann said...

Beautiful. Nothing moves like the truth.

Ann said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
DeadMansHonda said...

A. Maz. Ing.

Brilliant mind. And yes, he's totally the shit.