There, right between noun-verb agreement, prepositions and interjections and other grammar elements lies a little essay, a reflective essay, that would have been seen by no one had I not insisted that I check all the essays in e2020 before students can continue taking topic tests and moving on to new content.
She, the one who writes it, is thin—too thin; and she is quiet—too quiet. Her dark hair hangs over her unadorned face and she has a kind invisibility to her that I have known and seen before. It is a kind of screaming invisibility. She is shrouded in black mist and shadow somehow. Her brother is in the adjacent room. He too, is quiet and has the same invisibility and black mist around him. She mentions him early on in the essay, but here is the part that is haunting me:
He was a 51-year-old man living in his parent's basement with his sister and her two kids. Which was already pretty crowded and just plain wrong. But somehow, my mom thought it would be a good idea. Just a few days after living with him, we saw his true side. A drunk jerk that no one wants to be around, not even his own family. Every night he'd have at least a bottle of vodka mixed with OJ. He was not a happy drunk either. When he'd drink he'd get pissed off about everything! And no one would ever say or do anything about it so he was use to pushing everyone around. Which made our relationship all the worst. I could not take someone yelling at me calling me a "Bit**" for no apparent reason…
I have seen essays about worse situations that this, but today, I cannot help but stop and reflect on this one. I sense it only scratches the surface of the pain. I have the impression that her childhood has been a hell that is hard to imagine. I look around the lab and see all the students silently working away and wonder how many of them live in similar desperation and pain. A school like this one, I think, must be a relief to them. They plug their headphones in to the computer, face the screen and work away. No teacher stands yapping at them all day long, no parents to shout abusive things at them. If they need help they sign-up for a teacher and one of us comes around. They can see as much or as little of us as they like or need. It is peaceful for them, really. Sitting, tuning out the world like that is a kind of luxurious isolation—and being isolated like that in a computer lab, safe at school, is better than being in an over-crowed home with an abusive drunk demeaning you all the time.
She was gone today. I was just randomly checking to see who needed to take topic tests when I ran across the essay. The auto-grading scan gave it a “0” without explanation. The essay needs proof reading and it is written in one long stream of consciousness paragraph; but it was very articulate about the depth of her feeling—something a computer can’t begin to see or understand. I very much need to talk to her about it. I need to get a better sense of her need or if there is more that verbal abuse. I need to see and talk to the school social worker who is not here this after noon—just so she knows and is aware of the needs of this student.
