Our Young Women Lost

The premise of this piece details the pains and struggles of our modern youth.  This is written with regard to women, but it is not the women alone who are lost.  By no means is it just women.  However, for this piece I choose to focus on women, in particular a young girl, because the story is so short, so simple yet compelling, so fraught with meaning that it speaks out with its own desire, own need, its own passion.  It needs must be told.  So, I will tell this story of a little girl lost and found.

However, before delving into the story. I want to ask some questions, and build a context, a framework so to speak in which the story will be told. I want you to read this with some questions in mind.  I want you considering the people, the student, the teacher, and the parent.  I want you to be thinking.  I want you to be critical.  I want you to be engaged.

So consider ... what should we be doing?  What should we be saying?  What should we be demanding of the children in these harsh modern times?  What lessons do we have to draw upon and what wisdom should we impart to these impressionable young minds in order to ensure success?  What should we be demanding of ourselves?  Where do we seek wisdom?  Should we be demanding at all?  For ourselves, and our posterity, what is our mandate?

What do we need to do?  

The child in the above picture is suffering.  You can feel her pain as she closes herself into the banister.   Her physical exemplifies the mental, the emotional.  We have no idea why she is suffering.  However, we can be certain that it will affect every aspect of her life, from now into adulthood.  We are the sum total of our experiences. 

We know that children have always suffered.  People have always suffered.  There has always been pain, struggle and strife.  However, never before in human history have we had such access to one another, such open visiblity.  Never before have we been so vividly able to see, touch, and hear each other's pain, most especially the pain of children.  Now, more than any other time in human history, we are poised to be able to address the multitude, to show one another true love, and help one another be truly alive and whole.  Is this what we should do? 

I say yes.  I say a resounding yes!  Each of us are capable of affecting the life of a child.  Each of us are capable of giving love, of leading, of motivating, and encouraring others to do the same.  We each must do this, and then let the story be told, so that it can spread, affect, and change others.  What story will I tell you today?  It is the story of a child that would seem okay at first glance, no true worries.  But as I've said before, the road to wisdom is illuminated by perspective.  See the world through the child's eyes and come to understand why she is not readily equipped to cope, and that without something so small as a hug, and a good word, she could very well be lost to oblivion.

I've met many critical thinkers.  Many of them are educators, more commonly called teachers.  These dedicated teachers, who often get overlooked and lumped together with poor teachers, are doing their life's work.  They are incredibly passionate.  A day came when these people knew deep within that teaching, was their purpose.  They wanted to teach.  They remained committed to this goal.  As teachers these good folks have achieved success, and are  formidable educators.  They demand respect and get it from peer and student.  These teachers are admired and highly regarded, passionate about their children and their work.  The truth is the energetic light within, that which makes them motivating educators.  It is an invisible ephemeral thing to the normal senses.  Yet, when you view these people through the right mental focus, you can see it.  It's exemplified in their words, and their actions, their emotions, the love they have for their children, and the time and effort they put into guiding them to the right path, time spent teaching them life skills, things they won't get out of the textbook.  The children see this light readily, easily, and they are immensely attracted to it.  They come to this light for knowledge, motivation, and healing.  They know the light in these educators is a thing to be respected, loved, and appreciated.  It is why when they are suffering, they go to these teachers and seek their advice.

Some minutes had passed since the final bell rang.  Though Janice loved her children at the school, her very own little boy, was foremost in her heart.  She was eagerly working through her paperwork, administrative duties that had to be finalized and complete before she could leave.  She quickly went over paper after paper, her focus intense, but not so intense as to not sense the shift in wind.  The flow through the classroom was a slight thing, so she heard it more than she felt it.  She was also very accustomed to it.  Her room had become a haven for wayard souls.  Since becoming a teacher, she had developed something of a reputation.  She didn't seek it.  She didn't actively promote it.  All she did, she thought, was try her best to give the kids what they needed.  Apparently, she was highly proficient at this task.  The kids had become quick in dispensing the vital advice to each other, Go talk to Mrs. Edwards, she'll help you.  From one child's mouth to another's ears.  The word had spread.  You know what? I hear all that you sayin', but I really think you should run it by Mrs. Edwards.  She can help you!  Janice didn't look up as the slight rustling noise at her door moved persistently down the aisle, taking a seat at a desk directly in front of her.  Janice continued to work.  Whoever it was waited patiently.  Manners and common sense were a must, if you wanted to thrive in Mrs. Edwards's classroom.  You know Mrs. Edwards don't take no mess.  Personally, I think she can turn into a goon, beat you down in a hot minute you get outta line.  Janice finished her paperwork and looked up.  She had already decuced who it was, one of many former students who still came by to talk after class.  This one's perfume gave her away, part of her overall act to appear as a grown woman, which she most certainly was not.  

Lashawn arched an eyebrow.  Her back was straight, her head held high.  She didn't say a word.  Janice knew the game.  It was one of her own divising, with regard to her students, careful regard, patience and propiety, can you guess why I'm here?  Janice held her head high, and arched an eyebrow.  Lashawn cocked her head to the left, the eyebrow remained arched.  Janice did the same, continuing to mimic her student.  Lashawn held it there momentarily and then abruptly pursed her lips and cocked her head to the right.  Janice followed her movements exactly.   Lashawn then straigtened her head, eyes even, carefullly locked onto her teacher.  Janice did the same, locking her eyes with Lashawn's.  The student sighed.  The teacher sighed.  Finally, Lashawn decided to speak.

"Mrs. Edwards," said Lashawn.  "I have to ask you a question."

Janice smiled.  "Well, I didn't think you wandered in here to just stare at me."

Lashawn giggled.  "Naw, you know me.  I had to think about it.  Put my thoughts right, first."

"That's fine.  So tell me, what's on your mind?"

"Well, see, I got this problem with my parents.  You know?  I mean, why can't my mother act like a mother?"  She asked with a just a little bit of sass.

Janice leaned back.  This was going to be one of those conversations, delve a little deep, no surface matter here. 

"I mean, she ain't no kinda parent.  You know?"  The sass slowly vanished.  Lashawn's face began to look strained.  "We haven't spoken in five months.  Five months, Mrs. Edwards!  It's like she don't know I'm there, and she don't care.  Everything revolves around her stankin' man!" 

Janice had heard about the stankin' man once before.  She knew he was her stepfather.  He knew they didn't get along.   

"Okay," Janice said, nodding, urging her on.

"I don't even stay at home all the time.  She don't care.  She kicked my older sister out.  Made it a choice between her and that man.  Can you believe that?  She chose that man over my sister.  Now she's choosing him over me!  Can you believe that, Mrs. Edwards?"

"Actually, I can.  Lashawn, I know exactly what you're going through.  You see, I lived it."

Janice's voluntary admission about her own life seemed to strike something deep within Lashawn.  Her face began to tighten, her bottom lip quivered.  

"I don't understand, Mrs. Edwards.  Why don't my momma love me?"  She burst into tears.
   
Janice walked from behind the desk and opened her arms.  Lashawn stood up, welcoming the embrace.  "It's okay, Lashawn," Janice said.  "It's okay."

"Is it?"  Lashawn asked?  "She said she's gonna put me in juvenille yesterday.  All of a sudden, out the blue.  I hadn't been home for two days, and now she care enough to send me to jail?  Her husband sittin' on the sofa behind her smirkin'.  Can you believe it?"

"Listen, Lashawn," Janice said, patting her back.  "It is going to be okay."

Lashawn nodded.  "Are you sure?"

Janice gently pushed Lashawn back, placing her hands on the young girl's shoulders.  "Listen, I went through something very similar.  My parents were divorced, just like yours.  My mother remarried, just like yours.  And for the next 13 years I became third in her life, behind her husband, behind my sister.  I was nothing more than labor.  I felt insignificant. Oh I knew rationally that I was cared for ... but I couldn't feel it, not back then."

A fresh wave of tears threatened to burst from Lashawn's eyes.
  
Janice gently shook her.  "But listen.  It will pass.  I want you to hear me clearly.  You have to take responsibility for your actions.  You can't give your mother a reason, or rather your step-father, a reason to send you to juvenille detention.  Do you know what that means?"

Lashawn slowly shook her head. 

"It means you're going to have to look inside, Lashawn," Janice said.  "Honey, I'm really, really sorry, but you're going to have to dig deep within yourself to find that something you need, to fill that space where your mother's love used to be."

"Look within myself?"  

"Yes, you're going to have to.  You're going to have to grow up fast.  You're going to have to grow up right now.  You're going to have to be responsible.  I want you to go home tonight, no more of this being gone for days at a time.  Be at home.  Study.  Work hard.  Be successful, Lashawn!  And I promise you, though you will never forget, this bit of pain, this piece of right now, it too will pass."  

Lashawn sniffed, took a deep breath, and raised her head high.  Janice could tell the words had penetrated.  However, she didn't know if they had been truly internalized, deep down in her belly, lodged where they can't be removed, but readily available in times of need.

"I hear you, Mrs. Edwards."

"You hear me?"

Lashawn nodded. "Yes, I hear you."

"Listen," Janice said.  "I know this is hard.  It's going to only get harder.  I'm asking a lot of you, but it's not really me.  It's life Janice.  Life is asking this of you.  And if you want to thrive, if you want to really live life fully, then this is what you're going to have to do.  But know this.  You can do it.  You have to do it.  Okay?"

"Okay."

As my friend finished her story, I could tell the power of the moment still weighed heavily on her.  This had been personal.  What she told Lashawn was indeed true.  After her parents divorced and her mother remarried she did live her life as the one unseen, depended on, but rarely acknowledged, without privileges.  It was difficult to say the least.  However, she endured.  And she was certain Lashawn would endure.  This woman dedicates herself to her students.  She's giving of as much love as she can.  She truly cares for her students, and she let's them know how she feels.  She talks, she educates, but she also listens.  It is so important to just listen to the children.  She does this for them. 

I could feel the anger in my friend's words when considering Lashawn's situation.  In this we were of one mind.  I was angry as well.  The world is out of balance and only getting worse.  Children are being raised by children, without the benefit of love and concern.  There is no tempered discipline.  There is no prime example for many of these kids.  I observed my friend's students and saw in many of them the unfortunate drive towards mediocrity, television culture.  Upon meeting their parents, the reasons become quite clear.  With this revelation my friend now takes up the slack where she can, but she is just the teacher, not the parent.  She can't do that job, be the parent.  She doesn't want that job.  She's the proud parent of her own beautiful, well loved son.  She wants her students to experience the same.  However, in order to do this, the parents have to be helped.  They have to be educated. 

While we engage the parents, we have to also actively engage the children.  Mutiple generations of young people have to be educated on the skills of self-reliance.  They have to be helped, but given the strength to stand on their own.  They have to be made to internalize and exercise patience, discipline, and understanding.  They have to be taught morals and ethics.  Then, they need to learn the power of words, the need to be reading, writing, and truly learning arithmetic.  They need this type of old-school basis, this foundation on which to build new things, to stand and be able to see the horizon.  They need a primer.  They have to be taught how to respect themselves, and truly love themselves.  So many children today don't even begin to love themselves.  They walk around in clouds of self-hate.  It is so very sad, and so sincerely true.  As one national community we must work together to combat this.  Each one teach one, guide one, love one, and together we will be the change we seek. 

Why can't my parents act like parents?  What kind of question is this to have to ask? I'll tell you, it should not be asked.  But in the interim, it's what we have.  We must work together for change.  It's become clear that today far too many parents need parenting.  They're nothing but old children, lacking intruction.  They need a brand new primary and secondary education.  They need to learn the practicalities of life.  They need to be educated on how to be accountable.  They need to be taught how to be responsible.  They need to learn from other parents what the power of love is and what it can do.  They need to be given new tools, mental tools that can filter and focus.  They need to be able to see their children clearly, and realize just what type of gifts they truly are, what potential they represent, that they are their greatest responsibility, and to do anything less then your very best for them with love, compassion, and selflessness is nothing short of a sin.   The parents need a primer, just as much as the children. 

It makes me consider again one of my favorite quotes: "You can't lead the people, if you don't love the people. You can't save the people, of you don't serve the people."  Thank you, Dr. West. 



A few weeks later Lashawn came by and told Janice that things were okay at home.  She was being more responsible.  She was working hard.  Her grades were picking up.  She was doing the right things, and feeling better for it; so much so that she took a moment one day when passing her mother on the stairs to tell her she loved her.  It was a sincere sentiment, heartfelt and strong.  Lashawn said she was almost moved to tears by the strength and conviction in her own words.  She said her mother just looked at her like she was crazy, frowned, and kept right on walking up the stairs ... silence.  How wonderful would it have been to hear those words said back to her?  It hurt.  It hurt bad.  However, Lashawn was able to turn inward.  She said she took a deep breath and reached for the place inside, the place her favorite teacher had told her about, and she had found.  Lashawn reached for that place and held on tight.  She smiled as she explained this to Janice.  "Your words, Mrs. Edwards.  Your words got me through.  They're getting me through.  And I just wanted to tell you ... I love you."  Janice smiled, holding on to tears herself.  "I love you to Lashawn.   I love you too."