Honest to Blog

It has been brought to our attention through a media shit-storm that there are bad people out there. And unfortunately, those bad people sometimes have children.

What this has brought to the surface for me personally, is that I live my life day to day with a deeply rooted fear that I will miss something important. That I will be looking at the news one day and see one of my precious babes and think, "I should have known."

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Let me give you a teacher's perspective.

When you start working with children, you will inevitably be trained on the fact that you are a "mandatory reporter". You will learn that this means that at any sign of abuse or neglect, you are mandated by law to report it. If you do not, and something happens to that child, you could be in a world of trouble. Not to mention, that something happened to that child.

You will nod your head in agreement to everything, because, you know you will never let a child down.

Then, your first report comes.

Perhaps it is cut and dry. A child has told you they are scared to go home. Perhaps there is obvious sign of abuse. A belt mark across the face. You know that doesn't happen on accident. Bells and whistles go off. You know you must make the report.

And make the report, you do.

One of two things will happen:

1. Very little will happen. A note will be made, or a quick inquiry will occur.

2. You will painfully watch a child you care about get grilled by the police, only to leave school in a police car. They are not going home.

There is no real way of knowing why the outcome is the way it is, but either way you will think, "It was clear. I did the right thing."

But you will still worry. And wonder. You will be shocked when they are back with mommy and daddy tomorrow.

Then, depending on where you work, or how unfortunate that particular year is, you might have to make another call. A different student. This one isn't so easy. Perhaps it's a bruise on their face, but the student shuts down when you ask about it. Maybe it is a rotten tooth, that is paining the child to the point of daily tears. You think it's neglect. It might just be.

But here is where you learn the hard lesson that there are so many factors to consider when these things happen.

Take the student with the bruise. If they don't tell you anything about it, it may just be that they are embarrassed because they banged their head getting off the bus, and the older kids laughed at them. It may be that one of their parents is hurting them. You have no way of knowing. And you better damn well remember, that you are not judge and jury. You cannot pry, there will be no cross-examination.

But what about the rotten tooth? That one does seem cut and dry, doesn't it?

Let me give you an example from my own life.

I am an upper-middle class white woman with a masters degree and a deeply rooted family support system. Regardless of all the cards stacked for me, still I once went 2 1/2 years with out getting a doctor's care for very important things. Why? Because my insurance was military, I was new to life on base and I was scared and confused. I didn't know how to get myself set up with a doctor and worse yet, I was afraid they would call me a "silly girl". It had happened before on base, and I never felt smaller. I was afraid of having that feeling all over again, it made me feel out of control of my life. (a side note: when I finally did buck up and make the call, I requested a female doctor and I was told to "suck it up" because one was not available...so that helped).

You may think that there are very few class and race issues left, and you would think wrong. Imagine you are a parent and you can't afford dental insurance (as many of us can't). Your child is in pain, but you have no idea where to go to be accepted with out too much trouble. You don't have money. You do have a past that you are immediately judged for. Who would see your child for free? So, you decide that it's a baby tooth anyway and it will fall out. You are doing the best that you can with the tools you've got.

I had all the culturally appropriate tools necessary and I still couldn't bring myself to do it.

So as a person who cares wildly about the children you work with, you will discover that you could potentially do more harm than good by making a rash decision to call in a report. You will remember what it is like to see a child taken off in a police car, with a teddy bear in tow. You will wonder if just one bruise, and the lack of a reason for it will be a good reason to call. To tear up that child's life, if it was just a bump on the bus.

It probably isn't worth it. Then again, maybe it is. See the crux?

And what about the tooth? You will wonder if it is more of a case of needing to educate and support the parents. Can you do that? Sure, as long as they trust you. But, I tell you what, you make one misinformed CPS call, and you will completely break that trust with that parent. You will never get a chance to help them the way they might need to be helped.

They probably do need help. Then again, maybe they are simply neglectful. See the crux?

So, you will go home, having not made a decision.

And you will worry.

You will worry more than you have worried on anything in your life. What if you make the call, and they tear that child away from a family that just needs a little extra support? What if you are wrong and it is neglect or abuse. You have that child's world on your shoulders.

So what do you do?

I can't answer that question. Because every situation is different. But one call is a huge decision to make that can impact many, many people in many, many ways - either direction you go.

What I can tell you is that when you see these things happening before you, when one of your precious students is mumbling that he is not supposed to talk, when you register that what is in that child's eyes is not disrespect...no, it is fear. Well, there lies a new found understanding.

And you will discover that you have a deep, dark fear of your own.

You will take that fear. You will look it in the eyes, and you will say, "I'm braver than you. I'm brave for my kids." Then you will push it down into a deep, dark corner, because kids...they can sniff out fear.

But on that one day that you realize a child is gone without a trace, just after you reported an incident and it was followed up with a house call...well, that fear will come sneaking out.

It sneaks slowly. You will have time to get into your car, you and your fear, and you will calmly drive home. When you finally get in the front door, where you know it is safe from little curious eyes, you crumble.

Because you still don't know if you got it right.

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