The hood: part I
Before we lived in the country of Irving, we lived in a cozy house in Dallas. It stands right across the street from Highland Park (median family income = $200,000+, 97% white, and the home of beautiful people driving expensive cars...two of which almost hit me during my runs to the Katy Trail...), but the streets get exponentially more shady by block, heading toward Love Field Airport. We lived about 3 streets over, so that got us high risk of burglary and the occasional police helicopter search. The realtors would have called our neighborhood "up and coming" but I watch HGTV and I just called the house "cozy".
One night during V's residency, he was working overnight at the hospital and I was locked in for the night watching TV and probably eating. (Definitely eating.)
It was a school night and as I was cleaning up and preparing for bed, the doorbell rang and Ennis started barking. I looked at the clock and it was almost 9 PM.
Damn it, I thought. Admittedly, I was scared. While nothing bad had really ever happened while we lived there (that I heard about) I was aware of who lived in the hood, and I knew it wasn't someone looking to borrow a cup of sugar. There was no way to walk quietly without being heard or seen because the blinds weren't all the way closed and all the lights were on. That and I think I shushed Ennis. I sat there, statuesque, waiting for whoever it was to go away, Ennis still barking...because he doesn't shut up until the door is opened!
Then the doorbell rang again and was followed by heavy knocking.
I should have just ignored it because I'm sure that's what half of the people on my street did before they got to my house.
But no.
I put on shoes I could run in and checked out the living room, making sure I had "weapons" available to throw and a clear path to the back door. I cracked the front door open, and peeked outside.
A young girl, maybe 17 years old? was standing on the porch. I can't remember what she looked like exactly, but she was wearing a dress and high heels and crying. She told me she got in a fight with her boyfriend and he threw her out of the car and drove off. She wanted to use my phone to call someone to come and get her.
So I did what no one else would have done in my situation and let her in the house. Ennis stopped barking and she parked herself on our couch while I got our phone. As she was calling her uncle, I called V and told him the story in case that was the last time I ever talked to anyone. He strongly encouraged me to call the police multiple times, but it was all kind of dreamesque. I heard my logical voice screaming in my head, but she had appealed to my sympathy. I know, right? I'm an easy kill.
She begged me not to call the police and wanted to give her uncle the address to come and get her. She handed me the phone and I painfully tried to navigate his route from South Dallas (another strong, warning sign). After I hung up, I thought, who knows if he'll get here or not. I'm not so good with directions.
So we waited.
It was awkward, sure. I was on high alert and was making an effort to keep her hands in sight. I was thinking, surely if she were a bad person Ennis' sixth dog sense would kick in and he would be growling at her from afar. But no, he was all up in her business and trying to cheer her up.
Worthless.
Then I began worrying about the man coming to my house. Was this some little act they did together that ended with me being bludgeoned to death? I decided not to call Vivek back because he would have been super mad. I mean, he knew the situation so he could tell the authorities what he knew and hopefully they would figure it out.
While we were waiting, I was watching the Ranger game and in stupid, nervous banter, started commentating the game for her. No one wants me to commentate anything, especially a baseball game. Hopefully she learned something that night (hopefully several things...).
Half an hour later, the doorbell rang and there was her uncle, a big man, dressed in casual sports wear.
Again, instead of turning to her and being like, "okay! Here he is, this was great...peace out"
I invited him in.
Together they sat on our loveseat and he started to watch some of the game. We had some stupid talk about whatever I don't remember. Then silence. They just kept sitting there.
I began to wonder, do I offer them beverages? Snacks? Should I show them clips of hilarious, recorded television (my usual go to when entertaining)?
I don't know. At that point I wasn't scared anymore, I was just annoyed.
Finally, he said it was nice of me to let her call and they were on their way.
Later, after my friends and family yelled at me for being such an idiot, they told me that she was probably a prostitute and that was her "uncle" pimp. How sad and cynical are the people in my circle? Even if they were right (and they probably were) prostitutes and pimps are people too...
Also, I've never known a real, live pimp and if that man was, I was let down.
I promised myself I would be more cautious in the future and not put myself in such a compromising situation again...
A few weeks ago, I was at Target with Alex. As we walked in, a group of boys from AEP (alternative school...where the kids who get kicked out of their school go to serve their time) walked by the entrance. I knew them because of their khaki pants and white shirts. I knew them because they said "Ms.! Sup?!" I knew them.
I took this year off to be with Alex since we didn't know exactly when we would be able to go and get him, but had worked at the school 7 years. AEP gets the same handful of kids all year long, every year. I taught middle school. So at the beginning of the year, we usually only have students who didn't finish their "time" (required number of days) the year before. Then as the year goes on and teachers' patience decreases, the numbers increase until the end of the year when it's a party...not for teachers.
Students I got in sixth grade would come 2 times a school year, and then I'd have them in7th grade twice, and then in 8th grade twice. I got to know them well and the truth is, they're not that bad. I mean, they are bad...but mostly under-parented. I have always gotten along with most of them because really, they crave positive adult attention.
Anyway, I was shopping in Target and two of the boys in the group I had seen out front had come into the store to find me and ask for a ride home because it was raining. I said, " and why are you all the way over here anyway?"
"I dunno"
"Because you didn't get off at the stop you were supposed to?"
"Naaah Ms. It ain't like that..."
"So yeah, you did."
"Yeeeah. But it's raining...please..."
I was back to a compromising situation (although not near as compromising as the earlier mentioned), this time involving my son.
Giving students rides home is a major No No for teachers. Back in the day, a student could be dropped off at a massage place run by one of her swim coaches, take her shirt off, lay face down on the table and get her back and shoulders worked out from all the hell swimming butterfly creates. The coach didn't try anything; it was completely harmless and heavenly I might add. (yes this was me...and yes, my Dad dropped me off...and yes, I realize this sounds super weird...but it wasn't...it was awesome...)
Now in the day of internet and crazy teacher-student stories gone viral (which I would like to add, have been happening since the beginning of school...) you cannot go out of your way for students like you would like to sometimes for fear of being accused of coming on to them. My male colleagues won't even meet with female students in their rooms alone without a witness...sort of like your male gynecologist won't examine you without a nurse present.
I understand the reasons for the rules. It's to protect everyone. But I knew these boys. I had them all through middle school and they were harmless. If anything, they were super lazy. I can't believe they even took the energy to come and find me in the store.
In a moment, I decided that I wasn't a teacher for the district this year, so I loaded everyone up in the car, made everyone put on a seat belt and proceeded to take them home. Alex kept looking at me, like who are these people? I guess it's cool. It's the quietest he had been all day up to that point.
As soon as I found out where we were going, I began making fun of my former student. He used to brag about living in the hood and all the danger in his life. I was driving them to La Villita. It's one of the nicest places you can live in Irving.
"La Villita, huh? Looks really dangerous in here; I'm so scared. How do you guys work up the courage to leave your houses every day? Should I be looking for a drive by?"
I told them their secret was safe with me.
I decided that our former neighborhood in Dallas gave me way more street cred than my gangster wannabe former students. But for real, that was the last time...
One night during V's residency, he was working overnight at the hospital and I was locked in for the night watching TV and probably eating. (Definitely eating.)
It was a school night and as I was cleaning up and preparing for bed, the doorbell rang and Ennis started barking. I looked at the clock and it was almost 9 PM.
Damn it, I thought. Admittedly, I was scared. While nothing bad had really ever happened while we lived there (that I heard about) I was aware of who lived in the hood, and I knew it wasn't someone looking to borrow a cup of sugar. There was no way to walk quietly without being heard or seen because the blinds weren't all the way closed and all the lights were on. That and I think I shushed Ennis. I sat there, statuesque, waiting for whoever it was to go away, Ennis still barking...because he doesn't shut up until the door is opened!
Then the doorbell rang again and was followed by heavy knocking.
I should have just ignored it because I'm sure that's what half of the people on my street did before they got to my house.
But no.
I put on shoes I could run in and checked out the living room, making sure I had "weapons" available to throw and a clear path to the back door. I cracked the front door open, and peeked outside.
A young girl, maybe 17 years old? was standing on the porch. I can't remember what she looked like exactly, but she was wearing a dress and high heels and crying. She told me she got in a fight with her boyfriend and he threw her out of the car and drove off. She wanted to use my phone to call someone to come and get her.
So I did what no one else would have done in my situation and let her in the house. Ennis stopped barking and she parked herself on our couch while I got our phone. As she was calling her uncle, I called V and told him the story in case that was the last time I ever talked to anyone. He strongly encouraged me to call the police multiple times, but it was all kind of dreamesque. I heard my logical voice screaming in my head, but she had appealed to my sympathy. I know, right? I'm an easy kill.
She begged me not to call the police and wanted to give her uncle the address to come and get her. She handed me the phone and I painfully tried to navigate his route from South Dallas (another strong, warning sign). After I hung up, I thought, who knows if he'll get here or not. I'm not so good with directions.
So we waited.
It was awkward, sure. I was on high alert and was making an effort to keep her hands in sight. I was thinking, surely if she were a bad person Ennis' sixth dog sense would kick in and he would be growling at her from afar. But no, he was all up in her business and trying to cheer her up.
Worthless.
Then I began worrying about the man coming to my house. Was this some little act they did together that ended with me being bludgeoned to death? I decided not to call Vivek back because he would have been super mad. I mean, he knew the situation so he could tell the authorities what he knew and hopefully they would figure it out.
While we were waiting, I was watching the Ranger game and in stupid, nervous banter, started commentating the game for her. No one wants me to commentate anything, especially a baseball game. Hopefully she learned something that night (hopefully several things...).
Half an hour later, the doorbell rang and there was her uncle, a big man, dressed in casual sports wear.
Again, instead of turning to her and being like, "okay! Here he is, this was great...peace out"
I invited him in.
Together they sat on our loveseat and he started to watch some of the game. We had some stupid talk about whatever I don't remember. Then silence. They just kept sitting there.
I began to wonder, do I offer them beverages? Snacks? Should I show them clips of hilarious, recorded television (my usual go to when entertaining)?
I don't know. At that point I wasn't scared anymore, I was just annoyed.
Finally, he said it was nice of me to let her call and they were on their way.
Later, after my friends and family yelled at me for being such an idiot, they told me that she was probably a prostitute and that was her "uncle" pimp. How sad and cynical are the people in my circle? Even if they were right (and they probably were) prostitutes and pimps are people too...
Also, I've never known a real, live pimp and if that man was, I was let down.
I promised myself I would be more cautious in the future and not put myself in such a compromising situation again...
A few weeks ago, I was at Target with Alex. As we walked in, a group of boys from AEP (alternative school...where the kids who get kicked out of their school go to serve their time) walked by the entrance. I knew them because of their khaki pants and white shirts. I knew them because they said "Ms.! Sup?!" I knew them.
I took this year off to be with Alex since we didn't know exactly when we would be able to go and get him, but had worked at the school 7 years. AEP gets the same handful of kids all year long, every year. I taught middle school. So at the beginning of the year, we usually only have students who didn't finish their "time" (required number of days) the year before. Then as the year goes on and teachers' patience decreases, the numbers increase until the end of the year when it's a party...not for teachers.
Students I got in sixth grade would come 2 times a school year, and then I'd have them in7th grade twice, and then in 8th grade twice. I got to know them well and the truth is, they're not that bad. I mean, they are bad...but mostly under-parented. I have always gotten along with most of them because really, they crave positive adult attention.
Anyway, I was shopping in Target and two of the boys in the group I had seen out front had come into the store to find me and ask for a ride home because it was raining. I said, " and why are you all the way over here anyway?"
"I dunno"
"Because you didn't get off at the stop you were supposed to?"
"Naaah Ms. It ain't like that..."
"So yeah, you did."
"Yeeeah. But it's raining...please..."
I was back to a compromising situation (although not near as compromising as the earlier mentioned), this time involving my son.
Giving students rides home is a major No No for teachers. Back in the day, a student could be dropped off at a massage place run by one of her swim coaches, take her shirt off, lay face down on the table and get her back and shoulders worked out from all the hell swimming butterfly creates. The coach didn't try anything; it was completely harmless and heavenly I might add. (yes this was me...and yes, my Dad dropped me off...and yes, I realize this sounds super weird...but it wasn't...it was awesome...)
Now in the day of internet and crazy teacher-student stories gone viral (which I would like to add, have been happening since the beginning of school...) you cannot go out of your way for students like you would like to sometimes for fear of being accused of coming on to them. My male colleagues won't even meet with female students in their rooms alone without a witness...sort of like your male gynecologist won't examine you without a nurse present.
I understand the reasons for the rules. It's to protect everyone. But I knew these boys. I had them all through middle school and they were harmless. If anything, they were super lazy. I can't believe they even took the energy to come and find me in the store.
In a moment, I decided that I wasn't a teacher for the district this year, so I loaded everyone up in the car, made everyone put on a seat belt and proceeded to take them home. Alex kept looking at me, like who are these people? I guess it's cool. It's the quietest he had been all day up to that point.
As soon as I found out where we were going, I began making fun of my former student. He used to brag about living in the hood and all the danger in his life. I was driving them to La Villita. It's one of the nicest places you can live in Irving.
"La Villita, huh? Looks really dangerous in here; I'm so scared. How do you guys work up the courage to leave your houses every day? Should I be looking for a drive by?"
I told them their secret was safe with me.
I decided that our former neighborhood in Dallas gave me way more street cred than my gangster wannabe former students. But for real, that was the last time...
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