There is a little boy named Jarvis. Well, he's not so little. He's in 6th grade. But he's small for his age. He is one of the cutest kids ever with an adorable smile. He loves snakes and riding his bike. He is protective of his little brothers.
He's reminds me of the child in this poem:
There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad,
She was horrid.
When Jarvis is good, I love that kid. When he sees me, his whole face lights up with that adorable smile and he throws his arms around me in a big hug.
When Jarvis is bad, he's horrid. And I still love him.
I've seen him at his worst, his saddest, and his lowest. I watched as he struggled in school and was sent to ISS over and over again. I watched as his family was homeless this past summer as they moved from motel to motel because it was too dangerous to be at their duplex where someone had broken in. I watched his face crumble when a neighbor ran out of the house yelling that his mom had been taken to jail and I held him as he cried with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Jarvis, Jarvis, Jarvis. I was so full of hope when I interned in your classroom that first day. I thought I could change your life around in one week. I was so determined that I could get you and your two friends under control. The next day I sat at an empty table in disbelief. I had taken you three to the bathroom the day before and you guys got into a fight. You were all suspended for a week. I stared at that empty table for one solid week and it represented my failure. Could I not even get three children under control?
My whole internship, you were like the girl in that poem. You could be so sweet and then turn around and be so horrid. I remember once when you were in trouble and there was nothing I could do but take you out in the hall and talk to you. We sat on the floor and I stared at your dirty shoes with holes in them.
"You know, Jarvis." I said. "There are children who don't have anything nice. Food, clothes, or shoes."
You looked up at me. "You mean those children in Africa? I will send them my shoes."
Oh, sweet boy. I was talking about you and your ragged shoes, but all you thought about was children who are poorer than yourself.
I sat next to you in church and I was overwhelmed at how the odds are stacked against you. You sat next to me oblivious to the pain in my heart. How, God? I asked. How can a boy in the projects who's life is the furthest thing away from your perfect plan change his life around? It seems so impossible. Everything in his life is twisted. Marriage doesn't even exist in his world - only casual sex and abandonment.
I laugh at my ignorance the first week I met you. Change your life in one week? Me? I must of have been living in a fake world of Christian summer camps or something. Radical change in one week? I've known you for a year and I'm still struggling to see any change in you.
I never understood when parents discipline and they say, "This hurts me more than it hurts you," until I had to discipline you a couple weeks ago, Jarvis. I had warned you over and over again that if you got sent home three times at tutoring that you wouldn't be able to come back until the next quarter in April.
But you didn't listen. Or you didn't care. Or you just couldn't behave. I honestly don't know.
You got sent home three times and I had to remove you from the tutoring program until April. On your last day, you acted like the old Jarvis during my internship and I think I know why. Is that your way of pretending to not care? To pretend that you're not embarrassed when I call you out? Is it easier to act out and put on a show to make the other kids laugh than it is to cry?
It broke my heart to send you away. I kept telling my family, "Jarvis got sent home three times." Other kids have been sent home and they come back having learned their lesson, but I hated to see you go.
I'll still see you at school, WyldLife, and at Music Camp but I will miss you at tutoring, my sweet boy.
Paris Akins is currently a college student pursuing a degree in Education. She loves diversity, Jesus, and middle schoolers. She spends most of her time at school, helping with Chattanooga's Urban WyldLife, and with her kiddos in East Lake. She also blogs over at Attempting the Impossible.
