When I'm not saving the blogosphere by night, I'm a teacher by day, an occupation that has given me more than I could ever have imagined. I teach 8th grade English, and it seems like whenever I tell someone that -- teachers and non-teachers included -- the listener cringes and makes a comment about what a difficult age that is. My response is always the same: I love this age group, and something fun happens every day.
That's usually true, but today was a bad day. One of my favorite students was arrested for possession of marijuana with intent to sell, something she openly admitted to.
Her name is Dakota, a unique name for a unique girl. In her appearance, style of dress, and taste in music, she is dramatically different from most of her peers. In a school dominated by hip-hop culture, she listens to Morrissey and the Cure; at an age where most students are focused on conforming, she walks a different path. In general, students like Dakota, students who are confident enough to be different, demonstrate a strength of character that typically serves them well in the classroom and beyond.
Unfortunately for Dakota, she won't get that opportunity. When she arrived at school this morning, her backpack was full of weed, some of it already divided into several plastic bags ready for sale, the rest stashed in a package the size of a bag of potato chips. Enough weight that her next stop will probably be juvenile hall, not on-campus suspension.
I convinced the assistant principal to let me talk to Dakota before the police arrived, and when I sat across from her she was shaking with fear. I cannot begin to defend what she was doing (when I asked her why she was doing it, she simply said she was trying to earn some money), but it was impossible not to feel bad for her.
She had been asked to write a statement naming her supplier and intended customers, and she was clearly conflicted. To snitch, or not to snitch? She was desperate to talk to her mother, but scared to death of her reaction. The assistant principal had offered to help her if she cooperated, but she thought he might be lying. As she sat there in that moment, she was sure of only one thing -- no matter what happened, her world was crashing down around her.
It was when she finally asked me what she should do that the true magnitude of the situation dawned upon me. When I looked at Dakota as she awaited my answer, I couldn't help but imagine my own daughter sitting in room like this five years from now.
Understand this: I have seen absolutely nothing in my daughter that would indicate she could ever make a choice like this. I expect that she will be a model citizen and stellar student on her way to changing the world, but isn't that what all parents think? Don't we all assume that it will be someone else's child who will cheat on the exam? Won't it be the neighbor's daughter who sneaks out at night to see an unapproved boyfriend? Won't it be another kid with cigarettes hidden in the bottom of her backpack? We think so, don't we?
But if there's one thing that teaching has taught me it's this: you never know. As much as we shelter and guide and nurture and love, there are variables beyond our control which can completely change the entire equation. And so as I looked at Dakota, I wondered how I would react if my own daughter somehow found herself in a position like this. Would I be patient and understanding, or would my fear and disappointment manifest themselves in anger? I would like to think that I would be as supportive as possible, but I admit that I don't know for sure.
My final words to Dakota as she was being taken to speak with the police were simple. I told her that one day twenty years from now, long after she had put this mistake behind her, she might have a daughter of her own. And if that daughter ever found herself in a spot like this, I hoped she would remember this day and how frightened she was, and then I said goodbye.
I may never see Dakota again, but I won't ever forget the lesson I learned from her today.
Oh, Hank, what a heart wrenching ordeal for Dakota and for all the people in her life who thought she had a chance. If she had been one you thought was already lost she probably would not have been caught. Maybe some angel will keep her together during what will probably be the worst time of her life so far.
Love, Mom
Posted by: Joann Ludwig | May 08, 2009 at 12:47 PM
8th grade... Just old enough to not understand the severity of the cirumstances, yet old enough to get into some trouble for it too.
I hate to think that this bad decision would ruin her entire life. I think she is young enough to be able to work past it. I hope she is not an addict herself (at this young age).
What really needs to happen in this case, is to go after the scumbag who would put an 8th grade girl up to selling at her school. Now that is the trash the book should be thrown at.
Nicely done post!
Posted by: Father of Five | May 10, 2009 at 04:13 AM