My Chola

I have a lump in my throat, a pit in my stomach, and I am holding back tears because I know once I start crying I won’t be able to stop.

Today was the first day back from Christmas break. I had a bunch of new students to meet, my old students were actually glad to be back and it was an overall good day. But something was missing. Someone was missing.

On the first day of school in August she walked in with a “limp”, an obvious, purposeful limp. Her lip liner dark, her earrings big, and her clothes black and baggy. She was a chola. And to be honest, I thought ‘good Lord help me’ because I was worried. Is she going to cuss me out? Is she going to shank me? Will she care about school at all? Will I be fighting with her all year?

But she came in my room sat down and was surprisingly quiet. She kept to herself most of the class period and seemed to be doodling in her notebook instead of taking notes and paying attention. I, being the nosy teacher I am, went to go check out the doodles to find her not doodling but drawing. And it was INCREDIBLE albeit probably the scariest clown I have ever seen.

We started talking about her drawing. I told her she was very talented and asked her if she had any other sketches in her book. I was blown away. Her roses looked real. Her tears looked wet and her graffiti looked like fine art.

Over the first couple of weeks we talked…a lot. I found out she had been arrested about 25 times. She had a 3 year stint in juvy. A lot of teachers associated her with her sister who was apparently a trouble student and she didn’t like that. But I also learned that she loves people. She is super compassionate. She is naturally smart. And she would come visit me every day and give me a hug.

So today, when she didn’t come to give me a hug and when she didn’t show up to class I was worried. No one in class knew where she was and I decided to text her. I asked her where she was and she replied downtown. She had been to court a couple of times fall semester so I figured she was there. I asked her why she was there and she told me she was barely getting out.

Barely getting out? What does that mean? Well she was barely getting out of jail. Today is January 4. She got arrested December 26 for fighting. She was in jail for 10 days.

I’m not saying that she didn’t deserve to be in jail, because she busted a girls head open so yes she deserved to be there. But what I am saying is that I HATE that she was there. Because I know that she was hardened. That her heart was hardened. That a part of her love for people died. That a part of her compassion turned to hatred. AND I HATE IT!!!!!

As we talked over text message, she told me she was just a kid from the ghetto. I told her she was beautiful, smart, talented and bigger than this mess. I told her she had the world at her feet. That I loved her and I want her to love herself. That I want her to see herself as I see her. That she can get away from it if she wants to. Yes, it would be hard. Yes, she would hurt some people. But yes, she can do it. She can have a better life.

I asked if she was coming to school tomorrow and she was unsure because of what she was charged with. At this point in our conversation I thought she had just been arrested for fighting. But she was charged with attempted murder. The girl with the busted head ended up in the ICU.

So what happens now? How does she recover from this? I feel like I failed her. I feel like somewhere I didn’t do enough to help her. But I also feel like no matter what I would have done it would never have been enough to save her from herself.

How do we keep this from happening? How do we nurture the good? How do we shelter from the bad? How do I tell them about Jesus and keep church and state separate? How do I show them a better world, a better life that they know nothing of?

I sit and think about this and am at a loss. I know that at this point, I can do no more. I have to wait to see her sentence as she is in the courts hands. But I pray, I beg, that this will not define her life. That this will not define who she is.

I don’t know how to end this blog because I don’t know this end of this story. I don’t know where my chola will be tomorrow, in a couple of days, in a few years. So if you are reading this I ask that you pray for her. What to pray for I don’t know…..but pray for her.