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06/02/08 |
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Genesis
My sister is a teacher of hearing-impaired children in Georgia, in America’s Deep South. She sees a lot of the hard things they have in American schools which we don’t have here yet. This is something she wrote about a student she had several years ago. *** Genesis and I met when he was a third grader in a small, South Georgia town. I was the new teacher of the deaf and hearing impaired. Because he was hearing impaired, I worked with him a few times a week. From the beginning we got along great. Even as a third grader Genesis knew a lot about street life. He lived in “The Projects” and grew up with almost no one caring where he was or what he did. At the time I started working with him, his father was in jail for murder, and his mother had very little control over him. He was constantly in trouble at school, and I was told he had a bad attitude and was generally very angry. I never saw any of that. With me he was a completely different child. He was as honest as the day is long and had an incredible sense of humor. He was charming and had one of the most creative imaginations of any child I’ve ever known. We were always comfortable with each other, and many times I found myself learning more about street life than I ever wanted to know, simply because he always felt he could tell me things. For example, in the 5th grade he gave me a detailed, step-by-step analysis of how a kid goes about getting a handgun. Another time he told me all about the designated drug dealers for each grade of the elementary school, all of whom he knew personally. He never gave me any names, he was too smart for that. But he would tell me every other detail. And he was always honest in everything he said. The funny thing was that he had this wonderful sense of humor about everything. His life was harder than any kid should have it, but he always had a very positive attitude with me. But still I would hear stories about him being mean to people and just being a rotten little snot. I don’t know why he decided he didn’t have to be that way with me. Maybe because I never showed him that I was shocked by anything he said. Maybe because he thought it was his responsibility to teach this poor, sheltered white woman about real life. Maybe because he realized that I would still love him no matter what he told me about himself. And I did. To this day, I don’t know whether I made any difference in his life, but he sure made a difference in mine. Maybe that’s what God had in mind when we were put together. I needed him as much as he needed me.
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