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awww shooter, that wasn't embarassing. That was having a caring, loving broken heart. Blessings ang hugs to you. ((((SHOOTER))) I used to cry too, even when I wasn't a teacher. I went into my son class in third grade and was standing there and smelled something. There, off to the side of the whole class, was sitting a very embarassed little boy. He had evidently slept and wet in bed in what he had on, a filthy white T-Shirt, pants so short, they were almost to his knees, filthy tennis shoes, with holes, no sock, filthy hair....It was heartbreaking.
I went into the hall and put my head up against the wall, crying. To think the poor little fella had no one to care about him. I was sure he hadn't eaten.
When I composed myself, I went to the office and asked what was being done about this little boy. They said the "social worker" was working on it. I said, "In the meantime, he has to sit like that in class? Don't you relize how embarassing it is?" The said, "Mrs. B, our hands are tied until social services does something." I said, "Well, mine aren't. I'm sending a set of clothes in for him each day and he better have them on if I come in."
They told me I could not do that and neither could they.
I raised holly hell with them until they agreed to letting him take a shower in the clinic and wearing clothes I provided for him. He would return them each day and wear less expensive stuff I found at thrift stores home (Hey, I wasn't rich).
FINALLY, social services took over. He was put into a foster home and came in happy, healthy and CLEAN everyday.
This young man was the valecdcitorian at my sons graduating class. I sat there with tears in my eyes, SO proud of him.
So shooter, GOOD things can come of our caring too. I'm not saying what I did made him valedictorian. But I watched him as he grew. He was adopted into a caring loving family. THEY made him valedictorian. But I'll always remember, when I would be in my sons class, he'd come in smiling, clean, in nice new clothes.
You have such a caring heart, Shooter. Think of they ones you helped in memory of the one you coudldn't.
[ 10-21-2002, 01:55 PM: Message edited by: Mitzi ]
I went into the hall and put my head up against the wall, crying. To think the poor little fella had no one to care about him. I was sure he hadn't eaten.
When I composed myself, I went to the office and asked what was being done about this little boy. They said the "social worker" was working on it. I said, "In the meantime, he has to sit like that in class? Don't you relize how embarassing it is?" The said, "Mrs. B, our hands are tied until social services does something." I said, "Well, mine aren't. I'm sending a set of clothes in for him each day and he better have them on if I come in."
They told me I could not do that and neither could they.
I raised holly hell with them until they agreed to letting him take a shower in the clinic and wearing clothes I provided for him. He would return them each day and wear less expensive stuff I found at thrift stores home (Hey, I wasn't rich).
FINALLY, social services took over. He was put into a foster home and came in happy, healthy and CLEAN everyday.
This young man was the valecdcitorian at my sons graduating class. I sat there with tears in my eyes, SO proud of him.
So shooter, GOOD things can come of our caring too. I'm not saying what I did made him valedictorian. But I watched him as he grew. He was adopted into a caring loving family. THEY made him valedictorian. But I'll always remember, when I would be in my sons class, he'd come in smiling, clean, in nice new clothes.
You have such a caring heart, Shooter. Think of they ones you helped in memory of the one you coudldn't.
[ 10-21-2002, 01:55 PM: Message edited by: Mitzi ]
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I will say the one that sticks out in my mind,and will most likely result in a DQ in the physcological test. In 7th grade I just finished watching Pink Floyd the Wall. Long story short, every one at school was asking if I got a hair cut because I looked "different".
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