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suz

It's time once again to show off the talent our F2K: Fiction Writing for the New Millennium students display each session. STARS columns have featured specific lessons from our November F99 and January F2K sessions and, most recently, a Retrospective of several pieces collected from our July and September F99 sessions. This time we watched the boards for that one piece that just plain caught our fancy. With so many talented students, choosing one proved to be tougher than we thought! With the author's permission, we're sharing our final choice with you.

Enjoy!

suz - F2K Coordinator

Remembering Charlie

By Patti Ross

F2K - March Session - Steve Martini Room

It is one of those cold rainy mornings that make you want to roll over and bury your head under the pillow…only I've done that twice now, and I really need to get this day started. I climb out of bed and make my way downstairs with both yorkies following close behind. They are looking at me, like another hour of sleep would've done them some good too. I chuckle as I watch them stretch and yawn... then shake themselves awake. Long black and gold hair puffs out around them making them look like little lions…they always make me smile.

The paper is open on the kitchen bar and I notice that my husband has circled something in the want ads. He's left a note beside it, "Remember Charlie?" I shake my head and sigh... Yes, I remember Charlie. How could I ever forget that little four-year old face? I remember that little face - how he looked that first day I saw him, as I make my morning tea.

Charlie... my first day as his Special Needs Aide in Head Start... the smell of paste and crayons, fruit roll ups and Kool-Aid, the sun shining through the window and the little paper cups of marigolds growing there. Sigh. Yet, those are not the memories that come to mind when I think of Charlie.

I scan the newspaper and try to put Charlie out of my mind…the emotions are still pretty raw, even though it has been two years. Jim has circled a Head Start position. Special Needs Aid needed for a 4 year old with emotional needs. Experience working with state agencies a plus. I chuckle sarcastically. State agencies, huh, that means there is a history of abuse and they are looking for someone who is skilled in documentation, to get this kid removed from the home. Yes, it does sound like Charlie. Taking another sip of tea, and pushing back in my chair, I let the memories wash over me while staring out at the falling rain.

Charlie was underweight and small for his age. He had green eyes that were too big for his face and were hidden by thin blond hair that reached almost to his nose. His hands were lost inside the cuffs of his shirt, which spilled out of the waistband of his pants. The piece of rope that was used to hold up his pants didn't help much since the pants were about 6 inches too long, covered his shoes and the act of walking pulled them off. He was dirty. The kind of dirt that builds over time…the deep ground in kind that takes a long soak and a lot of scrubbing to remove. Amber color wax oozed from his ears and his nose ran thickly to his mouth. It was obvious from the odor around him that he had wet the bed the night before and no one bothered to clean him up. When I knelt in front of him, smiled and asked him his name, he stared at me with empty eyes and walked blankly away. I realized I had my work cut out for me.

I put my tea down, reached for the crackers and a tissue. The memory of that first meeting still caused my stomach to turn and the tears to fall. I should have walked away then. After meeting the parents I should have run. Run quickly in the opposite direction. Now, they were a pair.

Charlene was as tall as she was wide. We all guessed her weight to be about 270 to 300. She had long greasy hair that hung in her face. She often tipped her head and smiled coyly through the greasy strands…revealing the four missing teeth that her husband had, in a moment of anger or passion, or both, knocked out. Her clothes were torn and tight, and I never saw her wear socks, even in the coldest weather. I imagine it was because her feet spilled over her sneakers and there was no room for socks - nor laces to hold them closed. Yet, Charlene had beautiful hands. Her fingernails were long, beautifully shaped and painted brightly. Once I caught her pulling a pair of rubber gloves from the trash and asked her what she wanted them for. She told me that she wore them at night to help moisturize her hands. I remember how she smiled, tucking the used yellow gloves into her shiny black purse. She was so proud of her hands and nails.

Ken, didn't have nails on three of his fingers. Actually, Ken didn't have three of his fingers. I never did figure out what caused him to loose his fingers, but it had something to do with dynamite and fishing. It was really all I needed to know. I tried to stay clear of Ken. He made me feel uncomfortable. He was always standing to the side, staring at me coldly through dark eyes. His job at the local dump kept him filthy and the children would hold their noses when he walked by. In the year I worked with Charlie, I never exchanged more than a nod with his father. I could never get past Charlene's missing teeth.

I've long since finished my tea, and am pacing the kitchen. The rain outside the window has become harder and there is a chill in the air. I pull a quilt off the chair and put it around my shoulders as I stop and stare out the window. My stomach is rolling and I can feel a headache beginning behind my eyes. For a minute I close them, but all I can picture are Charlie's empty eyes.

I glance back at the table and see the circled ad, and I begin that old internal battle. I haven't been back into a classroom since my year with Charlie. It took such an emotional and mental toll on me. The endless forms, meetings with the social workers, lawyers, the trial - Charlie's face - those eyes - the way they looked at me when he was taken from his parents and put in foster care. All the memories rush over me and I reach for the antacids and the Tylenol. Why am I even considering doing this again? I try and tell myself that nothing could be as bad as that situation - but the very real fear is - that it could. I don't know if I have anything left in me to give. How often can your heart be broken…before it can no longer be fixed?

I sigh deeply. I just don't know what to do. I love children. I love working with children. I like knowing that I can make a difference. Sometimes it is just so hard. Just when you think you have seen it all - heard it all, something surprises you. I think of Charlie's cat and that Monday morning surprise. Damn... I still get chills when I think of that.

I remember the week before had been a hard one. It had taken most of the weekend to relax and unwind. I had spent a great deal of time working with Charlene trying to get her to understand 'appropriate' punishment. I tried to give her good examples of problem solving and parental feedback. I had hoped I was getting through to her, and was encouraged at her enthusiasm. But it was a long, tedious lesson - and week - and when I went home that Friday, I was totally exhausted.

I approached Monday with a good spirit. Determined to find the positive in every situation that came up. Charlene and Ken arrived early and were waiting for me in the parking lot. Charlene was so excited, talking as fast as she could and walking toward the back of the van to 'show me'. I greeted the three children and nodded to Ken... and managed to calm Charlene down enough to get her to slowly tell me what was going on.

"Problem Solving," was all she would say. I smiled. Great, I thought. Last week was not a total loss - she really did hear what I was saying. I began to get excited, too, wondering what they had all successfully done together. She flung open the back door of the van and proudly exclaimed, "There!"

Cautiously, I peered around the door, covered my nose and turned my head at what I saw. It was a dead cat. Charlene, Ken and the three kids, standing there just as proud as punch and all I saw was a dead cat. The two adults began talking at once. It was the only time I had ever seen Ken really excited. Apparently, their cat would never allow the three kids to play with it. Every time they tried, it would scratch and bite and the kids would end up in tears. According to Charlene, all three children worked together to come up with a solution to the problem. They sat on the cat until it stopped moving. Charlene said that now, they had the perfect pet. The children were able to play with it all weekend without a single scratch. "Now, ain't that problem solving, teacher?"

Yep, it sure was. My only problem was how I was going to get all that information on one little green form.

Green forms…Agh! I made them out in my sleep. Each time an 'incident' happened a green form was filled out and a case worker called. Thinking about them, made my head pound and my stomach roll again. I looked down and my fists were clenched and I realized I was frowning hard. Looking at the newspaper again, I wondered how I could even consider applying for this position. What was it that compelled me to do this work? I asked myself if it had been long enough…Jim's note…"Remember Charlie" Well, that is the problem, isn't it, because I do remember Charlie.

My head is in my hands and I am massaging my temples when the phone rings.

"Hello," I answer with a deep sigh.

"Hey, Patti! Whatcha doing? Have you seen the morning paper yet?" It was Tammy, the head teacher from the Head Start class in town. Her perky attitude a sharp contrast to my gray mood.

"If you mean the want ad, yeah, I saw it." I replied without too much enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on, it would be so perfect for you…" Tammy began to say.

I interrupt her saying, "Tam, I just don't know... remember Charlie?"

"Well, yeah, I remember Charlie, that is why this is so perfect for you."

"Tammy... speak English, okay, I am not following you at all."

"Okay... here it is. The kid we want you to work with is Charlie's oldest sisters..."

"Older sister?" I asked interrupting again.

"Yes, older sister. Charlie's older sister has a three year old little boy. Actually... let me think for a minute… Yes, it would be Charlie's half brother and his nephew... I think. Anyway..." Tammy chattered on and I could feel those crackers coming up. "The thing is, Patti, we figure you would be perfect, because you worked with the family before and..."