Time To Act

Where does it all go? They say everyone is fighting an invisible battle that you don't know a thing about. Something like that has been appearing in meme form for a while now. It's a nice gesture, a good start. Memes are the bumper stickers of the digital era. Although, we never do hear from parents of honor roll students. Progress? Maybe. Where was I? Oh yes. Where does it all go? I'd like to attempt to tell you about my battle.

In this era of walls, I speak to you as someone with very few, if any. When I was seventeen, they referred to them as boundaries. I have none, apparently. But I'm afraid I'm not referring to the boundaries that keep me from you. I speak of the boundaries that keep you from me. As each day starts, life begins to tip, like a pitcher, and pour itself into me.

Now, life is made up of all sorts of things, so that might not be a bad thing. When you decide to teach disadvantaged youth or entertain elders with dementia, just imagine what makes its way into my soul. I don't even mean the psychic sewage that floods directly in.

What about the stuff I overhear? There was this one time at a school that profited from taking in students kicked out of Newark, Paterson and Irvington. I was one of two teachers assigned to four high school classrooms. My co-teacher resigned after two weeks because he couldn't handle the language. I carried on, at my first teaching job, for months until they found a replacement. During those months, I realized what I had become a part of. There is a lot of money to be made from taking in the kids that other schools don't want. The magic trick is to convince them to pay large sums of money in order for you to do something they couldn't do. You pack your staff with doctorates and psychologists. For their part, the districts send people to check up. They are promised a behavior modification program. I administer this by issuing a score of 1 to 6 in a checkbook register each student carries. When they accumulate enough points, they can choose a school sweatshirt or pencil out of the school "store", a notebook. If a class amasses enough points collectively, they can order a pizza, once a month. Staff was not afraid to dangle that carrot. "If you can keep it up for one more week, THEN you can get your pizza."  Did this bullshit cause a riot? You bet it did. One student threatened to throw another down a flight of stairs. He was fresh out, with an ankle bracelet on. When he saw me writing him up for the threat, he calmly walked across the room and threatened to shoot me. I called the police and was promptly let go for doing so. Did I mention stuff I overhear? Oh yeah. One morning, I was stationed in the hallway where the smaller children were being ushered in. That was when I got to listen as a vice principal described the physical ramifications of sexual assault some of these children had to endure.

I just take it all in. If a 98 year old woman tells me she wants to die, I won't leave until I've taken her pain in fully and left her with as much of my energy as possible. I do some version of this every day.

Battles leave behind destruction. Every interface I have, whether with these outside events, or my inner demons, has consequences. It builds and builds. I say I grow stronger and tougher from it. But as whatever space this detritus occupies runs out, I become increasingly aware of its surface getting higher and higher. I begin to choke and heave, like I have to vomit, but I'm not nauseous.

Not being tough is not an option. But asking for help is. If I want, I can tell myself I've assembled the help. It makes me feel more like the warrior I like to see myself as. The trouble is, there's a hint of martyrdom, isn't there?

I am Christian. I once described myself as a child clinging to Christ's leg as if I don't want to leave His world and join this one. These days, I am reminded more and more of His message that he did all that stuff so no one else has to. I don't know how to tell Him this, though. This shit is falling apart. And people are hurting. Who will do something? What are the consequences for doing something, with no plan or career or system or boundaries in mind?

If I now wish to be free of it all, so I can live a life with my girl and create music and stories...is it too late? Do I have to carry this built-up mass, this glacier, with me wherever I go? How do I chip at it? How do I dissolve it? When I am literally choking on it, I would say it's time to act.