Weed Weed Go Away, Come Back Another Decade

It is Monday morning, the glorious week before the best two weeks of the entire school year...Christmas Break. I wasn't surprised when none of my students showed up for the first 10 minutes of class, but low and behold they began to trickle in shortly thereafter. Half the class decided to initiate their break earlier rather than later, but I was thankful for the dedicated few that decided to make an appearance.

About 15 minutes before the bell rang, I was discussing the Emancipation Proclamation and the Thirteenth Amendment, and one of my female students entered the room. She's 17 years old and with child. I quickly greeted her and she went to get her materials. After she walked past me the second time I smelled the distinct odor of weed...Purple to be exact. That's all the kids talk about, and I have had several students enter my room on a Purple cloud.

When she took a seat I really looked at her. Her eyes were tight, red, and they seemed to float recklessly in her eye sockets. Could it be that a young woman with child (8 months along) would actually light up? As her stomach protruded below her waistband and begs for your attention, the young woman sucks her thumb. No doubt duplicating her unborn child's actions in utero.

I sat staring at her, faking a conversation that would provide a reason for me to be gazing at her so intently. Waiting patiently for the bell to ring, I realized that the girl was indeed under the influence; she was laughing randomly and erratically, and seemed to move in a lethargic, under-water sequence.

The bell finally rang. The conversation proceeded in the following manner:

Teacher: "Can you stay for a second?"

Student: "Okay. Wassup?"

Teacher: "I know you weren't smoking right?"

Student: (Shocked look on her face) "Noooo....why do you say that?"

Teacher: "Your eyes are red and low, and when you walked past I could smell weed on you."

Student: "Oh, well I was in the car with someone that was smoking, but I didn't smoke."

Teacher: "You can't be around all that. You let somebody that's smoking drive you around?

Student: "Yeah. What do you want me to do? Get out of the car?"

Teacher: "Acutally I do. You're not alone anymore. You have to respect yourself and your baby"

Student: "Okay."

She dropped her head in shame, the guilt was written all over her face. She leaned in like she wanted to give me a hug, and I obliged her. On her way out the door I told her to be careful.

The next period brought my resident weed head to me. He's a 19 year old 5^th year senior who has absolutely no chance of graduating this year. He speaks of weed as if it is a demigod. He says that it's all he needs in the world. When other male students glorify women, this students says that weed is his girlfriend. Sad but true.

Today he walks in like any other day, (jovial and talkative) but as soon as I told him to retrieve his materials he flashed on me!

Student: "I'm not doing nothing!"

Teacher: "Who are you talking to?!"

Student: "You can't do nothing for me!"

Teacher: "You don't have to get smart! (Pause) Did I miss something? You were perfectly fine a minute ago! What happened?"

Student: "Nothing! But I ain't doing this work!"

Teacher: "Listen here. You can sit quietly and take your 'F' for the day, or you can leave. Why do you come to school if you're not going to do any work?"

Student: "I can't stay at home. My mom makes me leave."

Teacher: "Well you better sit here quietly or you're going to have to get out!"

He sat quietly without so much as a peep out of him. I was seriously beginning to think he either had mental health issues, or at the very least he was coming down off of his high because he literally changed personalities right before my eyes. He seemed to be silently fussing with himself. I kept an eye on him for the entire period and he never completely snapped.

When the bell rang for lunch he hesitated to leave, staying at his desk while the other students happily skipped towards lunch and temporary freedom. I literally had to tell him to get out. He said that he didn't want to just go outside and walk around, but I frankly reminded him that he wasn't cool today so he had to bounce. He reluctantly left the room.

The following period he came into my room and apologized. He said that he had some things going on that had made him upset earlier. All of a sudden, I saw a train wreck in front of me; I didn't want to hear the words that were coming out of his mouth, but he was reaching out for my help so I had no choice but to listen.

Weed. Stash. Dealer. Burglary. Robbery. Beating. Heater.

My student had jumped the school fence last night and buried a $100 stash outside my classroom windows in the dirt. When he came back this morning it was gone, only an empty baggie lay where the buried treasure had been. He buried it there because he lives across the street and could not keep drugs in his home. Although he was going to smoke half and sell the other half, he now owed his connect some money.

He goes on to tell me that last year he was selling weed in the West Oakland BART station when some guys pushed him in the bathroom, robbed him for his weed, gold grill, iPhone and $550 in cash before they viciously beat him, warning him to never return to their block.

He staggered to his car that he had parked a few blocks away, drove home, and hid his obvious wounds from his family as he remained holed up in his room for a few days effectlively dodging human interaction. He said that it's a good thing that he didn't have his heater on him because he would've killed somebody. Silly me, I had to deduce the fact that a "heater" was in fact a gun without letting him know that I was partially oblivious to his vernacular.

I told him that God had now given him two clear signs that he needs to change his profession and his life. I know there's a separation between church and school, but I had to pull out the Big One in a situation such this. He said that he had also been robbed in San Francisco for selling in the Sunnydale Projects. Although he had been spared from a robbery and beating, he still didn't get the message.

He had always shared with me a love of food and cooking, so I offered my help in getting him a job as a cook at Denny's or anywhere else. I told him I would pick up some job applications, and help him complete them. He seemed taken off guard and confused by my offer, but I told him to take the evening to think on it, and give me an answer tomorrow.

We've had discussions before about the fact that this student is a baby-faced, pretty boy Mexican/Spanish kid with fair skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair that he wears in a low ponytail. He has a thin build, and even though he's 19 he looks 15. I told him jail is not the place for him because the guys will be taking dibs on him as soon as he enters the gates. He got mad at me, but I told him he's the next best thing to a woman.

In short, these children are not living the lives of children. I read the suspension reports and students are getting caught buying/selling/consuming Oxycontin, Vicodin, hard liquor, cough syrup with Codeine, etc. So many of them have had family tragedies, and their greatest desire is to be in a constant haze, successfully avoiding life. I have students that walk into my classroom at 8:15 in the morning as high as a kite. I have a hard enough time waking up, getting dressed, and making it to work by 8:00. They do all of the above, but stop and get high first. Teens abusing drugs is a far greater issue than most people understand. I see it every single day.

I'll keep you posted...