What I wasn't Prepared For

I'm not blind- I've known for a long time that I'm incredibly fortunate. My family of four is still in one piece and not only do we love eachother, but usually we really like eachother too.We've lived in the same house in a beautiful suberban neighborhood for my entire life. My sister and I went to school in the Pennridge School District, which is not struggling even under the budget cuts, and are both now in college for what we love. Money is often a bit tighter than we might prefer, but there's always an abundance of food, our sturdy little house with all the utilities, three cars (plus dad's work van) and every year there are colorfully wrapped presents under the tree. I'm not unaware of the number of blessings are listed just in those few sentences, and that's the quickest of glances. I've long known that many aren't as lucky- not one of my best friends (huge blessings there too) get along with their parents 97% of the time like I do, and more than half of their families are split in some manner. I knew these things, but I knew nothing. Even while ministering to my friends, even while my house is and has long been the 'safehouse' for more than a few people, I never quite understood, never felt the harshness that life could deal out, the effect of truely and resoundingly bad shenanigans (as opposed to normal bad shenanigans which pale in comparison).

Placement changed that- or started to. In keeping with the harshness of such realities, there were times when it was way too much, when I didn't know what to do and was drowning. Three classes- in each more than half the students knew someone who had been raped, someone who'd been kicked out of their homes by their parents and someone who was no longer living. Then later coming in just one schoolday after the unexpected and senseless (a tree he was cutting with his family fell on him) death of a student- who was in one of my classes. That was the only day that I actually felt like an interloper, unwanted and unwelcome (not through any malice or intention, that's just the way it was). The emotional razors embedded in essays- every mention of the tragety slicing at my already breaking heart. Leaving the room as one student shared something in her journal with Mrs. Schober, something that was most certainly bad shenanigans. Hearing two beautiful young women tell of the time they each spent on the streets as 'runaway' teens, unwelcome at home for days or a week or more and of the horrific things their mothers have said to them. Reading a bound book- the stories of last year's junior comm class. The daily difficulties and tragedies. Mrs Schober arriving one morning tearful and exhausted by a sleepless night rocked by a personal crisis, and leaving after 2nd period, unable to stay. Dozens of concerned queries "Where's Mrs Schober?" and all I can say is "She didn't feel well so she went home." It's not enough, but they accept it.

For each weight, each rocking disturbance of my suberban, working class breaking into lower middle, sheltered, conception of the natural order of things, there was a hope far exceeding the bad shenanigans that might have obscured it. 20 teens 'Together as One' to start and advocate for 'Building Hope' a program and, with luck, eventually a shelter for 'runaway' teens in Lancaster. Stories of bad shenanigans piling utop one another, all ending with "it was bad, but it's getting better," "it is bad but I'm stronger for it," and "I will overcome." Two classes together producing memorial sweatshirts at blinding speed, in time for the heavily altered fieldtrip (everyone agreed that visiting the Holocaust Museum, Arlington, and the Vietnam War Memorial the day after the funreal was a bad idea, so we went to the zoo, then had the option to go to the Holocaust Museum or do a scavenger hunt on the Mall). Teachers and students alike smiling a the antics of sea lions and elephants all clad in the bright gold sweatshirts. Midsummer's Night Dream performed with a "white trash" twist, or set "in the 'hood."

It seems that in school, like theatre, "the show must go on"  but always it continues mindfully, aware of why it must and why it mightn't feel right.