One of the reasons I switched over from writing on The Coupon Goddess to Melanie In The Middle was to share some deeper stories with you. Stories about my life and what I’ve learned while living on this beautiful ball of dirt we call home. This is one of those stories…
Eight years ago I was living in Tampa. It was a very difficult time for me. My husband took a new job and we had to pull up our roots in Boston and try to get those roots to transplant in Tampa.
There wasn’t enough Miracle Gro to make that happen.
My girls were just babies. Babies that were born ten months apart with some significant developmental issues that required me to carry them both around on my hips due to their lack of trunk strength. Their first steps were taken around two years of age.
My sons had their own problems. We lived in a nice neighborhood, but the schools were sorely lacking. Because of this, we had to enroll them in a private school forty minutes away. Every day I spent three hours in the car shuttling them back and forth to a school that they hated and we could hardly afford.
We would go through the car line in our older mini-van amidst the Escalades and Hummers feeling very out of sorts. The boys didn’t fit in and I wasn’t having much luck making friends either.
I was lost.
So, when my church was looking for volunteers to work at summer camp for disadvantaged inner city kids, I jumped on the opportunity. Surely spending time with kids who had less would help me gain perspective on my situation.
I will never forget that first day of camp. Us adult counselors were to bunk up with two kids. And the two that were assigned to my room were not familiar with the term “boundaries”.
After haphazardly tossing their meager belongings into our closet sized room, they jumped on my bed and gave me cornrows and “fixed” my makeup. By the time they were done I looked like a hooker, but it made them happy and also had them trusting me a bit. A fashion risk worth taking.
Once the girls were settled in, their sole intention was to find the boys. I spent most of that week keeping the girls out of the boys side of the camp. It was an enormous struggle. The kids were all tweens and teens and it felt like it was raining hormones that entire week.
I’m not sure what I was expecting out of those kids, but I walked into it mentally unprepared. There is a huge difference between city kids and suburban kids. The city kids are harder. They grow up faster. And they were totally ok with having sex at the age of twelve.
I was grossly unprepared to mentor these kids. They might as well have been speaking Russian because I couldn’t understand them at all. I couldn’t relate to them because our life experiences were so completely different, and I was feeling like I wasn’t serving a purpose there.
And then I met Jose.
We brought the girls and boys together one day to play some team building games. Life lessons and fun mixed together to get the kids working together and learning new ways to communicate.
But there was this one kid who would have nothing to do with team building. Jose was a bully. A tough kid who had a mouth that would make a truck driver blush. Jose was loud, crude, rough and as far as I could tell, destined for prison some day.
I didn’t like him. He didn’t like me either. But the girls? Yeah, they were smitten. And I did everything I could to keep them away from him. Unsuccessfully.
Jose liked my two charges. He would follow us wherever we went, torturing us the entire way. Vulgarities spilling out of his mouth, I wanted to bleach my eardrums at the end of every day.
But one afternoon things got out of hand. A skirmish broke out between Jose and another boy. At first it was just like two baby rams bumping each other around, but then it escalated into a true fight. Fists flying and making solid contact. Like two well trained boxers.
I watched Jose turn from a child to an adult in a blink of an eye. And the hate and violence that came out of him scared the hell out of me. It took two men to break up the fight, and it was a struggle.
Once pulled apart, each boy was battered and bleeding. Two twelve year olds that looked like they had taken part in a bar fight, broken beer bottles and all.
Once pried apart, I took Jose by the arm and found a quiet spot where I attempted to calm him down. He was shaking and barely able to speak. And to this day, I can’t remember all I said.
But I do remember one part of our exchange. I asked him what he wanted for Christmas. Figuring that it would get him thinking about something else. What kid doesn’t love to talk about gifts?
Jose thought about it for a moment, and shrugged his shoulders. He couldn’t come up with anything. He asked me what my boys would like. And I answered Legos. He looked at me wide eyed and asked if I would indeed buy them Legos. Of course, I said. That’s when he looked at me with twelve year old eyes and said I wish you were my mom.
I died a thousand deaths in that moment. My heart ached for this child. A child who never knew the innocence of playing with Legos on the floor of his room.
He didn’t have a room most of his life. He was in and out of shelters like a revolving door. I learned all of this that hot summer day. Listening to a part child part man share his story while blood dripped down his lip.
In an instant this changed me. It changed him too. The rest of that camping trip Jose never left my side. His behavior changed. He got along with kids. He laughed. He cooperated. And the dang girls liked him even more because of it.
Never mind that he nicknamed me Grandma. I was the ripe old age of 34. Younger than his mom even. That didn’t matter. We had a bond that took us both by surprise. A bond that would go beyond that camping experience.
Saying goodbye to Jose was painful. He wrapped his arms around my neck and another counselor had to pry him off of me. Both of us sobbing. One getting in an old beaten up school bus headed back to the inner city. The other getting into her mini-van headed back to the comforts of suburbia.
I’m not sure if either of us understood what exactly happened that trip, but we both were changed because of it.
Once home, Jeff didn’t know what to do with me. I was a mess. There were lots of tears, and I begged Jeff to let me reach out to the powers that be to see if I could visit regularly with Jose.
But his mother resisted. And even though their lives were precarious at best, she didn’t want Jose to have a female mentor. His mom and I talked, and I know she was threatened by my stability.
Jose and I kept in touch for years, and last we corresponded, he had won a leadership award in his community. I couldn’t have been more proud.
One of the things I wanted to do for Jose was to give him a set of Legos that Christmas after our summer camp experience. I knew that he would’ve loved it, but his mom would have none of that. I wasn’t able to give him any gifts at all.
Looking back, I feel like Jose gave me the gift that year. A gift of perspective. A new way of looking at kids, all people really. A realization that even the most unlovable have something to teach us. And if we take the time and effort to look for something good in those unlovable people, we just might find it.
And that is a life lesson that I’m incredibly thankful for.
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That was so beautiful it made me tear up…..
Thank you so much for sharing yourself with us – you do more for us than you know….
elise
Thank you for commenting on my post Elise. Your feedback does more for me than you know!
Beautiful true life story Melanie. I am very proud of Jose and your efforts to support him all these years. Well done. This must have been a very emotional post for you to write. Thank you for sharing it with us.
It was such a good life experience. I’m so thankful for it. Sometimes I wonder if when we help people, who is the true benefactor? I think Jose would’ve been ok with or without my influence. Maybe that lesson was more for me than it was for him. Just thinking out loud….
Thanks for sharing this… I spent a lot of time working with kids who, for various reasons, didn’t have the support/resources they needed. Sometimes what they need most is just to know that an adult cares about them, is willing to set boundaries for them, and is just a stable presence in the world. I’m sorry his mom wouldn’t allow you to send the Legos. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to have a stranger come in and be able to give more to your child than you can. But I know that you donate plenty of toys and other things and while those toys may not have made it to Jose, they made it to another child just like him.
Yes, I can understand how defeating that would be for the mom. That’s why I didn’t press the issue. It’s so sad that there are so very many kids that go without many of the things our kids take for granted.
It reminds me of a boy I once knew & cared about for 4 years but I wasn’t given the opportunity to say goodbye or stay-in-touch. I’m glad you were. I hope Jose reads this someday.
Not being able to say goodbye must’ve been very painful for you. I bet you were a very positive influence in his life and that it will stick with him forever.
Thia had me bawling like a baby. thank you so much for sharing this with us. I am sure Jose still thinks about you too
Thank you for taking the time to read it and also for taking the time to comment. That means so much to me.
*tears* What a beautiful story, Melanie. To touch a child’s life in such a positive way is one of the most loving gifts and I’m glad that Jose was able to receive it.
Me too. I hope that I have another opportunity like that down the road. Not today because it is so mentally draining, but when the kids fly the coop, possibly then.
Wow. Wow, wow, wow… thanks for sharing that. Sometimes all it takes is ONE person sharing ONE kindness to change someone’s life.
Yes, and it doesn’t even have to be that much of an effort. People who perform little acts of kindness here and there can also have a profound effect. It just takes a little kindness to make someone smile.
oh wow. amazing story.
Thanks.
Goosebumps and tears – feeling grateful to “know” you once again…
Hope L
OH
Lol, I’m not that awesome, trust me. I think that experience may have been more for me than for him. I had a lot to learn at that point in my life. I still do.
You sure know how to make a girl cry. Thanks for sharing Melanie!
I’m good at making people cry apparently.
Fabulous story, Mel. Thanks for sharing. I hope Jose is reading your blog. Thanks for reminding me to show kindness to everyone…it is the unlikeable ones that need it the most.
Yes, the unlikebales are the ones that need it most, which is so challenging when our human nature is so judgmental. A constant lesson in character development. I’m still grappling with it myself.
I really enjoyed that story, Melanie. I can totally relate to how you feel. In my 25 years of teaching young children, I cherish the bonds that I have made with many kids over the years. What an awesome feeling to know that you made a lasting difference to a young person! I never kept in touch with any of the kids I taught, but it is an awesome feeling when they take the time to come back to see me in my classroom 10 years later and say that I was their favorite teacher and they’re not shy about giving me a big hug. It makes all those tough teaching days worth it.
I can only imagine the impact you had on so many children. Teachers have such a profound impact on young people. How awesome for you to get such positive feedback! It must make you feel very validated.
Very powerful story indeed
Thank you Angie!
Beautifully written. I’m so glad you were able to stay in touch for several years. And that you’ve switched over to this blog where you can share stories like this.
Thanks Maryanne! I do love that about my new blog. I feel very free to write about things that are deeper and more true to who I am. Thanks for valuing that.
I was reading through tears. Powerful, beautiful and motivating. Thank you so much for sharing.
Thank you Sue. It was good to get that down in print. It was a special time.
Wow, another one sitting here reading, crying my eyes out. So very powerful & touching.
Maybe I should have a Kleenex alert on top of these types of posts? Lol.
Thank you for sharing. Wow! Who knew such a small act could change both of you forever.
Great job Melanie.
Thank you for taking the time to read it. I know it was a long one! And honestly, I could’ve rambled on. That was the shorter version!
Thank you for sharing; this is a powerful story. If you reach only one child in your lifetime your life is well lived. I taught school for over 32 years, and it is the tough kid you reach that means so much more than all of the entitled kids.
32 years is a very long time to teach. What you must’ve seen and experienced in those years. Not to mention how many lives you must’ve touched. I admire teachers. A selfless profession.
Believe it or not, now that I’m retired I miss the kids so much. I am seriously considering putting my name in as a substitute teacher now. I taught grades 5-8 most of those years, and I sometimes think that they taught me more than I could ever teach them. Yes, it is a selfless profession; I can’t count how many concerts, musicals and music festivals I dragged my kids to. My poor husband even chaperoned many a field trip. But the experiences and life lessons were well worth it. Some day I plan to write a book just about the funny things that kids that age say and do; I could fill volumes.
I’m so glad you changed your blog to be able to share more with us, I feel like I knew there was more to you and you just blow me away in your testimony …….. sniff, sniff….. Thank You Melanie
No, thank you for sticking with me and appreciating why I changed. I received some emails from people telling me that they were no longer following me because of my new direction. I’m so thankful for the people who stuck with me and gave me a chance to explore these different topics. It was very freeing for me.
We too were in Florida for a job for five years and just recently moved back. I will never forget my husband coming home from the school he was teaching at and telling me about this young man. He was living with his grandmother because his mom had recently died of cancer. As a young boy, he watched his father shot to death in a gang fight. This young man was a ball of repressed rage, and definitely had PTSD. My husband was warned he was trouble. But he doesn’t see kids that way. He looks for what might be wrong. If this young man started acting up, he would take him outside and talk to him. He refused to send him to the principal for minor things. The young man thrived in my husband’s class and none of the others. While this is going on, my husband was in constant contact with the school counselors about this young man’s mental state. They claimed there was nothing they could do. Then came the day that the young man snapped and that is when the school did something, they put him in a hospital. It broke my husband’s heart that he tried to help and couldn’t. Now this young man was locked up. He was 12 years old. I don’t think we will ever forget him.
That is tragic. I’m so very sorry. How frustrating that must’ve been for all of you. I can’t even imagine. What an amazing man your husband is. He must’ve changed many lives.
Wow. Just wow. What a gift to be given that insight and that relationship. It’s both the little and the big things in life that make all the difference. Thank you for sharing!
Yes, it’s the little things too. I can be in the worst of moods, and the simplest act of kindness like a stranger holding a door open for me when I’ve got my arms full can change my mood in an instant. If we all took the time to perform small acts of consideration, how much better off we’d all be!
While working on a reseach project that was testing of young children in inner city schools, a young child, only five and the size of a three-year-old came to me as a subject. After ten minutes of my being kind, he said through his speech impediment that he wanted to go home with me. He would answer a question and ask me if he could come home with me. He begged. Over and over, he begged with a tear in his eye. I can only imagine how badly this little boy was treated at home and school to beg a white woman to take him home.
I cannot hope that half an hour of kindness made any difference in his miserable existence.
That gift of a week made to you surely meant the world to him.
I always preferred the less fortunate kids who needed me than the kids from my world who were such snots to me and bullies to everyone but their own “kind.”
Oh ouch. How sad that must’ve made you feel. It sickens me to think of how horrible some of these kid’s home lives are. How they are abused, neglected, and the things that they see that no child should. Breaks my heart. I wish my own kids could see how fortunate they are. That is a lesson that is very difficult to teach to kids who are in safe, stable homes. They just don’t get it.
Thanks for making me cry! That was a beautiful story and a sobering reality check for everyone I think! My husband was a Big Brother with Big Brothers Big Sisters for years and his Little moved away last year but he calls him once a month and we still send gifts for Birthday amd Christmas. That little boy is just as important to our family as any blood relative, and I know my husband is equally as important to him.
PS. I love the deeper stories!~
Kim, I agree. Love these deeper stories. That’s what life is all about…touching lives and/or lives touching ours. Thank goodness for the ability to share these stories such as Mel’s and yours. We’re all better people for the lives we touch in a positive way.
What a rewarding relationship for all of you! That is a wonderful program. I’m so glad the the relationship continues. You are very special people.
SSSNIFFFFFF :*) I love stories like this…..
Remember the saying from the movie Schindlers List, “S/he that saves a life, saves the world”, you gave that young man’s heart a dose of CPR love.
Oh, I love that quote. That movie killed me. I cried and cried. Talk about a true lifesaver. That man was tireless in his pursuit to help people. A must see movie for everyone!
Mel, this story was very much like one I learned early on in life, but didn’t fully appreciate until I was older. My parents signed up or joined what is called – it still exists today – The Fresh Air Fund. They brought in children of the inner city of New York and matched them up with host families. You could request male or female, and an age range. You could NOT specify race, religion, etc. Since I was the oldest my parents requested a female age 10 to 12, at that time. There was nothing else you knew about the child you would be matched with and at the time. You could request a two-week stay, a four-week stay, or a six-week stay. Well, being a “newbie” to the program my parents said just two weeks. We met the bus as it dropped off the children at a local school and your name was called as the child was getting off the bus. My life changed that day, and obviously so did my family’s. Now mind you, I don’t know exactly how my parents came to enter this program, which still exists today, nor do I know why they did it. You see, there were three of us girls growing up. I was the oldest, my sister Jo-Anne, one year and 11 days younger, and then another sister, Rebecca, six years younger than I. The kicker – my sister Jo-Anne was born with spina bifida as well as hydrocephalus. (Another story for another time…my sister left this earth to be with the Lord just over a year ago.) Needless to say, it’s not like my parents had “extra” time or energy for that matter, but regardless, they decided to participate in this program. Debbie stepped off the bus and I think it was love at first sight for all of us. The poor girl had “car” sickness and had it the entire bus trip from NYC to PA. Then we had to drive her again to our home, which was not entirely a short trip. But we made it. And we were in love with this beautiful young girl from NYC who had fears nothing like I’ve ever known and who so loved being with us. So the next year, my parents signed right on for six weeks. And after that, we brought her and one of her younger sisters in for Christmas as well as the next summer. My parents did this on their own. This was not part of the program, but we loved her and my parents played “Santa” to her and her sister two years in a row…just because. And they bought her and her sister Noreen tickets to come to PA and we’d pick them up without anything to do with the program. It’s just that my parents were so loving and so wanted to help. And I have been blessed to have been a part of this. Debbie and I kept in touch for many years. I know that she got married and had at least one child. I also know that she went back to Puerto Rico where she was originally from, a few times. I’ve tried with all my might to find her again. I even still have the original paperwork from the Fresh Air Fund. I just know that she (and her sister) changed our lives and I know for sure we helped change her life as well.
I’m sorry for this reply being so long Mel, but you really hit on something that I can totally relate with when I read your post. Everyone needs a chance.
I feel like I post so many comments to your posts that I need to say thanks…for listening, for all the times you’ve responded, and I guess just for knowing you’re out there.
Ok, now I’m the one crying. What an incredibly beautiful story. First of all, I’m so sorry for the loss of your sister. It must’ve profoundly wounded you and your family. Sending you a big virtual bear hug.
Your family sounds amazing. Giving, accepting, and willing to help. How lucky Debbie was to be placed in your lives. I am familiar with that charity. Such a good cause that helps many people. And to think that it couldn’t be possible without people like your family who are willing to take that risk and take people in. Such a blessing.
And really that is a risk. So, your parents should be commended for that too. They must’ve had faith that they were doing the right thing in light of the struggles they were already facing. What a story of faith and a desire to help.
Thank you for sharing that with me. It actually helped cement something that’s been rolling around in my head.
I can’t share the details yet, as they haven’t firmed up quite yet, but I’m about to enter into something that requires my time and my family’s time and I’ve been tossing some of the elements around in my mind. Your post helped me see that it’s the right choice and the right time to do it.
Thank you.
What a wonderful post, Melanie. Truly. We have no idea sometimes the effect we have on a child until years later. So often it is simply caring and taking the time. Blessings to you.