With his chubby face and cheeky eyes,
he grins at me with conviction.
He'll swear black + blue that he's sorry,
that he will try and pay attention.
Then he will fart and cackle all over again.
I want to get mad,
furious for his lying and disruptions.
But his uncanny resemblence to one of the lost boys,
not to mention his harmless behaviour makes it hard to keep a straight face.
In a more quiet lesson, he tells me his story.
Juvenile for 3 months and no real support from home,
he will be out on his own at age 16.
'I have anger management issues you see Miss' he tells me solemly.
'I don't want to be like this, but feel so out of control'.
This delightful bundle of trouble just needs some love and care.
he fights everyday; for his rights,
his home, for the eggs that he throws at the cops and strangers.
I want to give him a cuddle and a slap all at the same time.
He's story is just one in my class, they all gradually share their sadness.
They laugh amongst each other, but you know that they are sad.
Forced to fight and grow up at the age of 11.
Their knife scars are frightening, but trophies all the same.
this rudeness is a disguise of rebellion.
Their laughter and troubles are contagious,
and make me want to try and do it again tomorrow.
It's funny you should post this - we have Peter Pan playing at work at the moment :) I know how you feel about the kids, even though my experience with Juveniles is minimal. Because they have such extremes between saddening and infuriating they really have greater potential to break your heart. Fortunately, you have the potential - and chance - to help mend theirs. Can't think of a better person to be in your place, Dea. I know it's tough at times, but you're the perfect person for the job. Hope you continue to see hope rather than despair. xox
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