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Iesha -age 15.
This first story is extreme. It is about connecting with an angry inner-city
girl living a life on the margin.
I met Iesha when I was working as an "at-risk" counselor in
the San Francisco public schools in the mid 1990s. She was placed in an
alternative school for her frequent discipline problems, failing grades
and poor attendance. She had been picked up by the police for possessing
pot and was now on probation - a consequence which compelled her to attend
school or risk being incarcerated.
Like most of the kids I worked with at the time she came from a single
parent home and was surrounded by lots of adults and kids who exhibited
similar behaviors and attitudes towards the culture at large. She was
highly guarded and expected not only that the adults in the school would
not be able to relate to her reality, but that nothing they would say
or do would be useful or positive for her. In short, she had set people
like me up to be obstacles to her life rather than helpers or positive
guides.
Though she came to school, she frequently came late and thus began our
series of morning meetings as she'd come to me for a late pass. Initially
most of my comments to her were met with defensiveness and/or indifference.
I came to expect this and in an attempt to just be different than she
would expect from an adult in the schools, I took to being overtly dramatic
about my indifference to her. This is something often referred to as pacing.
An example:
Iesha: Enters room without knocking. I need a pass.
Me:So.
Iesha: What do you mean so?
Me: I mean what I said.
Iesha: (now a bit flustered). Mr. Jeff I need a pass!
Me:That's not all you need.
Iesha: Oh my G-d are you copping an attitude with me?
Me: What attitude??Every day you come in here and treat me like
you could care less that I exist and like nothing I say matters. Why should
I be concerned about what you need?
Iesha: - clearly flustered now. Says nothing.
Me:Here's your pass. Maybe sometime you'll come in and have
something nice to say. You might find it worth your while... I'll see
you tomorrow, I'm sure. I pause long enough to make eye contact -
sincere eye contact. The kind that reveals that I am more present than
my words suggest.
She leaves. The next day Iesha arrives late again:
Iesha: How you doin' this morning Mr. Jeff. Thatss a nice tie you
got there. Where'd you buy it, Wal-Mart?
Me: Let me guess. You need a pass.
Iesha: (dramatically) PLEASE!!
Me: handing her the pass - "K"
Iesha: puzzled. K? What do you mean K?
Me: "K as in K-Mart. I bought the tie at K-Mart. Now get
out of here. Us poor counselors have REAL work to do."
Thus began our series of conversations which led to a bond which formed
and eventually became one of the most significant ones both in her life
and in my at the time, very young career.
Within a week I established a boundary with Iesha that I would allow her
to come in and meet with me only on the days when she came to school on
time. If she did, I would arrange special meeting time for us. This typically
happened only once or twice a week but when it did she made a point to
come in and tell me she was there. The positive connection had begun to
form in a way which stayed with her even outside of school.
I spent many hours over the course of that fall and winter just listening
to her tell her stories of the things she'd seen and heard. I learned
about her mother who left her with her Grandmother and got caught up in
being with men who used her for sex and got her deeply involved in drugs.
She told me what it was like when she would see her mother on the streets
wired on cocaine hanging on the shoulder of some drug dealer - how embarrassing
it was and how much resentment she felt.
I'd hear these stories and not know what to say other than to continue
to point out to her that she still very much had the possibility of making
her own life be so much better. Over time she came to listen to me long
enough to consider the possibilities of what I was offering. It was not
new to her to hear it, but it seemed like the first time she actually
listened and considered it.
She shared with me news about the boys she was involved with and especially
the older guys who were interested in her. It concerned me that she would
fall for these guys and I'd ask her how she knows these guys are not any
different than the ones her mother fell for. She'd get angry with me and
occasionally would stomp out of my office mumbling about how I am just
like every one else... and I'd let her go.
I knew she'd be back. It was evident to me just how much she needed -
and wanted - a positive connection with an adult - one who would be a
voice of reason even as she needed to make her choices and find her own
way.
In March of that year she stopped coming to school. My repeated calls
to her Grandmother's home went unanswered. More than a month passed and
I was informed by the Probation department that she was in serious trouble
and that she wasn't allowed visitors. I chalked Iesha up to one of the
many disappointments of working with this population. I had grown used
to this feeling I was making a difference only to lose out to the many
forces out there in their world which had more leverage than me. It is
not that I had grown hard to it - in fact it still bothers me to this
day when it happens. It is just that I had gotten to the point where I
realized that I never know how much time I am going to have with anyone
- thus it is vital to make sure the time we have is maximized and done
with the most impact.
One afternoon in late April, Iesha called my office. She was back in her
Grandmother's home and wanted to see me.
When she arrived in my office she sat down and immediately began telling
me a long story about how her mother had shown up one night and ravaged
the house looking for money. Iesha totally lost control and pulled a knife
out and chased her mother away. The neighbors called the police and had
her taken away to Juvenile Hall. While there she refused to talk to anyone
and was put on suicide watch. After a week of not eating and not talking
she was taken to the psych hospital. There she attacked a couple of workers
and was sedated and strapped down. They refused to let her free until
she agreed to eat and talk. When she finally acquiesced, she spent a week
in isolation only being visited by psychiatrists and social workers, each
wanting her to take tests and take medications which made her feel more
and more nauseous and wanting to sleep endlessly. When she was finally
released she was sent to a girl's group home several hundred miles away.
I listened as she went on for nearly an hour telling the story of the
horrific events of her life in the control of the system. While I had
many thoughts on how she could have handled things differently, I realized
more than anything that she needed to be heard and feel connected to someone
who could make her feel okay about herself.
So I listened, intently.
When she finally stopped I asked one question: "At any point did
you ask to speak with me?"
"I did ask to speak to you!" She replied loudly. "I told
them you were the only one I'd speak to! But they wouldn't let me. They
said I needed help a school counselor couldn't give. They wouldn't let
me talk to you or call you or anything!"
I stayed in contact regularly with Iesha for several years after that.
She would call when she needed advice and eventually I got her to call
even when things were going well. She got into a GED program and eventually
moved in with an Aunt who took her away from the old neighborhood and
gave her a new chance in a new town. She got her first job at a GAP store
and eventually enrolled in a Community College. I lost contact with her
shortly after that but had lots of evidence that she had internalized
a positive way of approaching her life, particularly the challenges she
faced regarding making tough choices to stay committed to a positive life
even when those around her are not.
I think back on the work we did together and how often the greatest thing
I was able to do with her was to get her laugh and experience some joy
in a life which was otherwise stressful and demanded her be guarded and
tense. Beyond that, just getting her to think positively and notice what
is working felt like a success - a success I saw more of towards the end.
I don't know whether or not she remembers me in the way I remember her,
but I do know that what I learned from her, particularly about how to
relate to and communicate with an angry teen aged girl are lessons and
skills I still use to this day.
They are skills I've taught as best I can to countless others since then.
In some way, I hope it has all mattered.
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