Teaching at an alternative school has its challenges. The main challenge is that many of the children are not motivated to do the work. This stems from multiple things like low reading scores, undiagnosed or misdiagnosed learning disabilities, psychological disorders, dysfunctional homes, discriminatory practices, cultural differences and some simply are uninterested in school. These issues and many others can cause students to repetitively misbehave and end up in alternative school. The alternative is that short of being completely revoked from all school campuses, you have one last chance to matriculate with a high school diploma minus extra-curricular activities.
Many of the students in these schools give up hope, not just on school but in life. Without court orders threatening to arrest their parents/guardians, many would not attend school at all. They get involved in dangerous activities that can be life altering or life ending. From a teacher’s perspective you do all that you can to make them see a brighter tomorrow and motivate them towards something different. Despite these efforts some will never see that silver lining, but as teachers we can’t give up.
Such was the case for a student I had a couple of years ago. For purposes of this blog, I will call him Ralph. Ralph stood about 6’1” with straight, dirty blond hair that fell into his eyes. He was very charismatic, the consummate class joker, and was more playfully annoying than rude. Most days he was upbeat and usually made an earnest attempt at completing my assignments. It was the other days that he came to class high and his mood less positive.
One day Ralph came into my class and he was acting weird. He stood in the back of the room and leaned up against the counter with his head hung low. He kept running his hands through his hair and his speech was slow but repetitive. The other students were laughing at him. This wasn’t his normal high behavior. Unlike the moments where he would lay his head down on the desk and sleep, this time he wouldn’t sit down and kept repeating how high he was. It was almost like he was crying for help. Then, he said the magic words that let me know why he was tripping, “I took 15 Xanax.” Having worked at a nonprofit that assisted substance abusers that were recidivist felons, I understood the effects of various drugs. Knowing that Xanax is a downer, I couldn’t understand his excessive talking. If anything, he should have been nodding if not completely passed out. This boy was so high, he was flying.
Ralph admitted never taking that many pills at one time. I began to view his action as an attempted suicide. I made him sit down then my dialogue shifted towards soliciting information. I asked questions that targeted his intent in taking that many pills and where he got the pills. He answered honestly stating that he stole his father’s pills, a statement I heard him make once before. Ralph’s father filled his prescription on the same day each month and that is when Ralph would steal his pills.
Ralph admitted to normally taking 3 or 4 pills at a time. The most he experimented with was 6. By taking 15 pills at once it placed him at risk to overdose. I think he knew what he was doing when he took the drugs, but it didn’t give him the instant results he anticipated. Instead, he reached a high that he never experienced before and became scared. Since he cleared the path for me to counsel, I did just that. We were on a roll with our conversation when someone knocked at the classroom door. To my dismay, there stood another student that was also high as a kite. I will call this student, Lisa.
I knew Lisa was a bit of wild child, but I had never seen her high. Unlike Ralph, Lisa would cut school when her outside activities were apparent. To avoid bringing Lisa inside for she and Ralph to feed off each other, I stepped out of the classroom towards her. She must have seen the disappointment on my face, because she stepped away from me in embarrassment while adjusting her clothes. This female student was by far one of the prettiest girls in the school. She had a beautiful caramel complexion with very thick, long, black kinky/curly hair that was always neat. Normally, she presented herself well, but that day she was the polar opposite. In front of me stood a disheveled, 17-year-old teenage girl who looked as if she just rolled out of a grown man’s bed. She was scratching herself like a drug addict and her hair wasn’t combed. She had arrived to school halfway through first period.
At this point in my story, I am going to veer off a moment to highlight a crucial point. This goes out to any very grown adult (30 and over), that indulges in the act of sleeping with people under 25. Here’s why you should not. The reason this young lady came to my door that morning was because she didn’t want to be left out of the class trip I planned. I placed her on a list of banned students because she rarely produced any school work. We weren’t going anywhere special, but she did not want to miss out on the fun her friends would have. Ladies and gentlemen, this is how the mind of someone that young works. Even though she was accustomed to engaging in adult acts, she still needed to play with her little friends.
Lisa apologized to me and swore that she would hand in classwork from then on. I told her I would think about it and get back to her. The real reason I didn’t engage in a lengthy conversation was because I couldn’t stand to look at her any longer. It was as if she and Ralph were double teaming me. My emotions were so out of whack because this little girl reminded me of my aunt. She too was once deemed attractive and popular, until she became consumed by drugs. I walked back into the class, closing the door behind me with a heavy heart.
Almost immediately, Ralph continued with his drug banter. We picked up where we left off with me dissecting his semi-suicide attempt. Then he asked, “What do you want me to do?” At this point I could feel myself becoming overwhelmed. I couldn’t take it anymore so I yelled at him, “Stop! Just please stop!” Then, for the first and only time during my teaching career, I broke down and cried in front of the class. The students were stunned. I believe Ralph even sobered up a bit. His speech became clearer when he announced that he had never seen a teacher cry over a student. Seeing my distress, the other students sat quietly and did their work. I made Ralph place his head on the desk and sleep off some of his high giving me a moment to recompose myself.
Before school ended, I reported the incident. Unknown to me, the counselors were not surprised with his behavior. They called his grandparents who were his legal guardians and explained the situation to them. The grandparents, who were experiencing their own troubles with Ralph, gave the okay to call an ambulance. He refused the services.
After that incident, I had a heart to heart talk with Lisa. I knew that I had to let her go on that trip because it was the one thing that just might save her. She showed up on time, sober, was appropriately dressed and enjoyed herself with her friends. And yes, she did make an attempt to do her classwork from then on.
By: Paige Adams
A Paige from my Book 