Disturbing. Distressing. Heartbreaking. Sad.

A sense of sadness. Uneasiness. Distress.

A memory of many decades ago. Back. Clear. Painful.

Like it just happened. Just now.

It involves a boy. A young boy… 14, going on 15. A boy I had in one of my Reading classes. A boy whom Barry had, too, in one of his Math classes. The boy was small.  Slight.  A shock of black, wavy hair a stark contrast to his pale skin. I don’t remember the first time Barry and I talked about this boy, but at one moment in time… we did. This boy did not speak to anyone. He sat alone at lunch. When called upon in class, the boy panicked and stuttered and shuddered with fear. I don’ remember if it was Barry, or me, who went to his school records to find something about this boy that we could connect to. Connect with. Try.

What I do remember is that this boy had been removed from his family. I will not get into details.

Barry and I talked about this boy every afternoon on our way home from school. We needed to do something for him. We agreed that maybe taking him places with our own family might help the boy to feel a sense of belonging to something. And that’s just what we did. We got permission to take the boy to our home. We took him on apple and pumpkin picking excursions. We prepared Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve dinners with this boy. Our kids were delighted to have him and bought the boy Christmas gifts with their own money. We got special permission to take the boy on a family trip to New Hampshire one April vacation…

And the boy spoke to our kids. He smiled. I don’t remember the boy ever laughing out loud. But smiles were pretty good.

The boy remained very quiet while in school, though, and he never, ever told anyone that he had become a friend of ours, as well as a student.  He seemed to like it that way.

When the boy was ready to take his test for his driver’s permit, I tutored him.  I spent many afternoons reviewing, repeating, testing him for what he considered the biggest test of his entire life.  I think the boy equated driving with independence.  It meant the world to him to pass the permit test.  On the day of the big test, I drove the boy to downtown Providence.  He was as ready as anyone ever was to take on the permit test that meant so much to him.  We were reviewing the material once more as I drove.  While I was maneuvering through the streets on our way to the Registry of Motor Vehicles, the boy became very animated and excited about someone he saw walking along the street.  “It’s my Mom.  My Mom,” he was saying.

I looked to my left.  There was a woman.  The boy’s Mom, it seemed.  She was walking along, slowly, with a cigarette dangling from her lips.  She was unkempt and disheveled and I just remember the slowness of her.  That’s what stands out from so long ago.  Slow. And the boy calling out, “That’s my Mom!” He was genuinely happy.

I pulled up next to the curb and unrolled my window… my little white Volkswagon window.  I still remember the car and the roll down window and the boy reaching across me to get to his Mom as my car came to a stop.  Like he was going to leap out the window.  Calling, “Mom!  MOM!”

Everything else about this encounter with the boy’s Mom is in slow motion.  In my mind, it plays only in slow motion.  As the woman sauntered away, I knew she could hear the boy calling, “MOM! MOM!” But she kept on walking.

I called to her.  “Excuse me?  Excuse me!” I called.  “You are [the boy’s] Mom?”

That’s when she turned around.  I saw her eyes.  I could smell her cigarette.  She turned all the way around and walked the few feet to the open window of my little white Volkswagon.  She leaned on the window frame.  She stared at me.  The boy had jumped out of the car by then and was standing on the sidewalk with the woman.  She didn’t look at him.  Not once.

She looked at me and said, “Who are you?”

I told her that I was [the boy’s] teacher and that I was bringing him to the RMV to take his permit test.

She never looked at the boy.  Her sonHer child. Her baby.

Instead, she asked me, “Ya got 5 bucks?”

Maybe a million thoughts went through my head at that moment.  Maybe only one thought did.  I just remember having enough wits about me to say, “No.”

And she snorted and walked away.

I didn’t have much time to think beyond my simple NO.  I watched the boy as he watched his Mom walk away.  Silent.  How many times had he seen his Mom walk away?  I had tears in my eyes that I had to hide.  I called to the boy to get back into my car.  He did.  He never said another word that day.

He failed his permit test.

Not long after that day, the boy stopped coming to school.  Barry called often, but his supervisor wasn’t all that encouraged that the boy would be coming back at all.  He never did.  He disappeared.  Literally.  I can’t count the number of times Barry or one of our kids has asked about the boy… or I’ve thought about him.  His silence.  His little reprieve.  Then he was gone.

Until now.  This boy came back to us in the news.  Now a very grown man with a face we hardly recognize, “the boy” has been arrested for something terrible.  Disturbing.  Distressing.  Heartbreaking.  Sad.

Something that, if true, will perhaps perpetuate the cycle of victimization.  Sadness.  Something that may silence another child.

The pain in my heart is overwhelming.

And I can’t stop thinking about the Mom.  The Mom, to whom “5 bucks” was far more important than her own child.  Shame.  Shame.  Shame on you.

This cycle must be broken.  But right now, all I can think to do is cry.

About Audrey

Audrey McClelland has been a digital influencer since 2005. She’s a mom of 5 and shares tips on her three favorite things: parenting, fashion and beauty. She’s also a Contemporary Romance Author.

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10 Comments

  1. 9.9.10
    Sarah said:

    Sharon, this hurts just to read. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to live.

    I don’t know if it’s consolation, but it sounds like the times that he got to be with your family are the few pleasant memories in his entire life.

    It’s so horrible how broken people can get by the ones who are supposed to protect them the most.

    I guess the only thing to do is what you did – to remember how many little moments there are before they become unfixable when people can try to help, like you did. Even if it doesn’t work.

  2. 9.9.10
    Kelly said:

    Sharon,
    That was so moving to read. Painful too.

    It’s so sad how people can treat their children, and how it gets passed down from one generation to the next. Makes me strive to be an even better mother to my own kids.

    I’m so sorry-I’m sure it was sad to see what this boy grew into, and like Sarah said know that your time with him was likely some of the best times in his life.

  3. 9.10.10
    Kim said:

    This is a very moving and thought provoking post. I am in a long pause mode . . . I have a similar situation with a little girl two doors down from me. I will not go into that story here but suffice it to say, there are some similarities and you have got me thinking and re-evaluating the situation now. Albeit hard for you to write, no doubt, thank you for sharing this post. You are absolutely correct – the cycle must be broken. I’m sorry for the pain you feel so deeply now.

  4. 9.10.10
    Bonnie said:

    The world needs more people like Sharon and Barrie and their family.
    The Mom perhaps has a mental illness and or addiction. 500 thousand children now have some form of mental illness. I feel that the way the churches prepare for marriage. They should also prepare would be parents for parenting, I alos feel that hospitals should screen for addictions and or mental illness or dysfunction. As they screen and counsel would be parents with a predisposition for genetic diseases.Thus greatly, reducing the number of children who now suffer. I am glad that York university now has a program to teach social workers how to identify at risk infants and toddlers; who are showing signs of distress. The boys mom is to be pittied also as she was a lost soul, not capable of doing any better. She cannot look after herself. let alone the boy.
    OFTEN ADULTS WHO SUFFER TRAUMA AS CHILDREN ARE STUNTED IN THEIR GROWTH IN LIFE. You may publish my email if anyone would like to comment on my ideas [email protected] .Sharon and Barrie keep on helping do not be discouraged. I know of one young man who had a horrendous childhood, he ended up in the foster system and other places. He is a one in a thousand longshot,blesshim. He was on the deans list at university and is now studying to be a lawyer.

  5. 9.10.10
    admin said:

    Thank you, Bonnie, for this very raw and honest comment. I know the Mom was (perhaps still is) a “lost soul”… so overwhelmed with her own sense of self that she had nothing left for her son (and other children, too). Your suggestions are valid and important and necessary. It is unthinkably unfortunate for so many countless children that they become victims of victims of victims of victims. I hope people listen and learn…

    … and I can tell you about kids who DID rise above despair to become teachers and business owners and attorneys and service men and women and nurses and specialists in many fields… and wonderful, wonderful parents!

  6. 9.10.10
    Bonnie said:

    I would love to know the resource unless it is confidential. I hope that you can publish an article on the success stories. I would also love to know the factors that enabled those children to be so resilient. I feel that the government should have ads on tv and in the paper, showing parents in different languages and in different locations. Where they can go for help if they have postpartum depression or if they are out of control with regard to parenting. I have a four year degree in Early childhood bEducation, I have not worked in years. I was written up in the paper in the same articles as Dr. Spock. I won awards, I witnessed violence for nearly twenty years. I have suffered nearly my whole life. Due to a dysfuctional upbringing, depression and postpartum depression and trauma. I am ahamed to say that I was not able to cope when our son was a preschooler. I eat myself up alive about this as he is behind academically, and has had a very hard life. Very few people know this about me. I advocated all of my ideas at a government meeting last year. My ideas went to all levels of government. I would be happy to have an article written about me so to prevent other parents from not being afraid to get help sooner.

  7. 9.10.10

    This is so heartbreaking and painful just to read. You know what amazes me the most and I am only speaking based on my own experience. The more neglected the child is, the less affection, attention, love and support the child get from his parents, the more this child loves and longs for those who could care less about her. And strictly the opposite we see in cases, when children are showered with attention, their needs are catered to, their feelings are spared. These children treat their parents in a radically different way, originated from this overwhelming sense of entitlement. What is this? The human nature phenomenon? Lack of appreciation for something that is easily available and always there no matter what?

  8. 9.10.10
    Heather said:

    Wow. This is heartbreaking. I’m sure as many other did, I was thinking of kids just like this that I’ve known throughout my life. We all know them, yet how many of us reach out the way you and Barry did? I can’t imagine your heartbreak at hearing his recent charges, Sharon.

  9. 9.11.10

    Oh Sharon! I am so sorry for your heartbreaking pain! I often wonder what has happened to some of my students that I had as first graders especially since my first class just graduated from high school this past spring. I wonder how my most difficult students are and hope that they have succeeded to overcome odds and terrible family situations to grow up and become responsible young adults but in my heart I know this can’t always be true. Thinking of you!

  10. 9.19.10
    Lucy said:

    Oh Sharon, I’m crying along with you. I never met the boy, but I would have taken him in a heart beat. It breaks my heart when children suffer. I hope you, Barry and the kids are proud of trying so hard to make a difference. I’m sure things would have turned out differently if the mom had just given him up for adoption. Parents don’t realize how much of an impact their problems make on kids. So sad, so very sad. God bless you for the kindness you’ve shown all children you’ve touched through your acts of kindness.

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