Thoughts on An Attack
Okay, where were we? We were discussing something mind-bendingly horrifying... oh yes... my girlfriend's assault by one of her students. So if you read the post that I linked to (see the post below), you're already familiar with the details of the event in question but, just for a quick recap's sake:
Em teaches the worst of the worst kids in Brooklyn. They're emotionally disabled, barely literate, prone to violence and, in general, the stuff of nightmares when it comes to the fact that my girlfriend has to be in a room with them for 8 hours, five days a week. Because Em is made of sterner stuff than I, she sees this as a unique challenge and actually, on occasion, enjoys her job. Conversely, it takes every ounce of resolve and fortitude I posses to not wet myself when she walks out the door in the morning. However, she's held up nicely and things hadn't gotten too Lean on Me until Thursday, when a student grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her to the ground. She hit her head, hard, got a concussion, was rushed to the hospital, etc, goodnight and amen.
So. As promised, my reactions to said assault and the issues surrounding it:
-There's a concept called "Southern Justice" that I've been rolling over in my mind. It involves me finding this kid's address, buying a baseball bat and a fifth of Jim Beam, and letting the night take me where it will. While this seems a fine idea in theory, it's flawed due to the fact that, of the four possible outcomes to this scenario, three end with me getting shot. The fourth ends with me in jail, which is an avenue I'm not terribly thrilled to explore either.
-The school where she works is utterly, criminally worthless. The student who assaulted her has been in jail before, is known to be a violent threat, and yet is still allowed to matriculate amongst the GP. Em has asked the school five times to have him removed from her class due to his constant frightening behavior. After the assault, they assured her that, finally, he'll be moved to a new class, though they'd really rather wait until he stabs her first.
-And another thing about her school... they're not thrilled with the fact that she's "making waves," i.e. Pressing charges against the student. That's right; the school would rather this just go away quietly. Seriously, the rage this makes me feel can only be expressed in screamed expletives and breaking glass.
-The NYPD... surprisingly helpful. The two officers that she spoke to were fast-acting, compassionate, pleasant and entirely resolute in their conviction that this student would see jail time for his doings. To the men and women in blue... thanks, tons.
-When I receive a phone call from my girlfriend telling me that she's being rushed to the hospital after being attacked by a student, my hands shake for a good three hours after the fact. I didn't know this about myself. Consequently, I've given up my dream of being a secret agent, combat surgeon or any other profession which I've seen on TV that looks cool but would require calm collectedness under pressure. I'm just not suited for that kind of work, damnit!
-Em's back at school today and I'm putting on a brave face, carrying on with my work in a diligent and efficient manner. Mentally, I'm in the fetal position under my desk, nipping from a bottle of whatever booze is the strongest and weeping quietly while staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring.
That's it for now. I'm sure it will all be fine and I'm sure I'm just a big overreacting sissy who should be wearing a pretty, pretty dress. And if that's the truth, well... fine. It beats the alternative.
Em teaches the worst of the worst kids in Brooklyn. They're emotionally disabled, barely literate, prone to violence and, in general, the stuff of nightmares when it comes to the fact that my girlfriend has to be in a room with them for 8 hours, five days a week. Because Em is made of sterner stuff than I, she sees this as a unique challenge and actually, on occasion, enjoys her job. Conversely, it takes every ounce of resolve and fortitude I posses to not wet myself when she walks out the door in the morning. However, she's held up nicely and things hadn't gotten too Lean on Me until Thursday, when a student grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her to the ground. She hit her head, hard, got a concussion, was rushed to the hospital, etc, goodnight and amen.
So. As promised, my reactions to said assault and the issues surrounding it:
-There's a concept called "Southern Justice" that I've been rolling over in my mind. It involves me finding this kid's address, buying a baseball bat and a fifth of Jim Beam, and letting the night take me where it will. While this seems a fine idea in theory, it's flawed due to the fact that, of the four possible outcomes to this scenario, three end with me getting shot. The fourth ends with me in jail, which is an avenue I'm not terribly thrilled to explore either.
-The school where she works is utterly, criminally worthless. The student who assaulted her has been in jail before, is known to be a violent threat, and yet is still allowed to matriculate amongst the GP. Em has asked the school five times to have him removed from her class due to his constant frightening behavior. After the assault, they assured her that, finally, he'll be moved to a new class, though they'd really rather wait until he stabs her first.
-And another thing about her school... they're not thrilled with the fact that she's "making waves," i.e. Pressing charges against the student. That's right; the school would rather this just go away quietly. Seriously, the rage this makes me feel can only be expressed in screamed expletives and breaking glass.
-The NYPD... surprisingly helpful. The two officers that she spoke to were fast-acting, compassionate, pleasant and entirely resolute in their conviction that this student would see jail time for his doings. To the men and women in blue... thanks, tons.
-When I receive a phone call from my girlfriend telling me that she's being rushed to the hospital after being attacked by a student, my hands shake for a good three hours after the fact. I didn't know this about myself. Consequently, I've given up my dream of being a secret agent, combat surgeon or any other profession which I've seen on TV that looks cool but would require calm collectedness under pressure. I'm just not suited for that kind of work, damnit!
-Em's back at school today and I'm putting on a brave face, carrying on with my work in a diligent and efficient manner. Mentally, I'm in the fetal position under my desk, nipping from a bottle of whatever booze is the strongest and weeping quietly while staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring.
That's it for now. I'm sure it will all be fine and I'm sure I'm just a big overreacting sissy who should be wearing a pretty, pretty dress. And if that's the truth, well... fine. It beats the alternative.
posted by Clinton at 10:14 AM
2 Comments:
Whoa! Something like this happened to my mom years ago when she was in her twenties and worked in a special ed classroom. She was teaching this 14 year old kid with severe mental problems and a criminal history, and he actually stalked her. Got to be careful! It seems sort of wrong the way the schools always put the youngest, least experienced teachers into the scariest classrooms.
The thing that sucks is that, to the administrators, it makes perfect sense:
Young, hungry idealests who want to "make a differnce" + hateful criminals who no tenured teacher wants to anything to do with = A problem that solves it's self.
It's the same with, say, people who want to work in the film industry. They starting out getting coffee and holding bounce boards and doing all the shit jobs. Except they're less likely to get shot.
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