Life Changing Day At School...

I have hesitated to write this post, but I feel it must be shared. Last week, on Valentine's Day, I had one of the most unusual, horrifying, life-defining moments of my teaching career and my life in general.

The condensed version of the story goes like this:

I had asked my students to write letters to my students in the US. I gave them lots of creative liberty; they could basically write anything they wanted about themselves or about Kenya. I also wrote "paragraph starters" on the board in case they were having trouble and wanted a more structured letter. I didn't think the students would have any trouble with this, especially because they often write to their sponsors, but they were acting kind of weird about the whole thing and were having difficulty settling down and getting started.

Well, when my back was turned to one of the other rows helping the kids get started on their letters, apparently a few of the boys were teasing and/or stealing a pencil or something from a boy named Hillary. (The kids sit so close to each other on their ridiculously small benches that it is nearly impossible for them to keep their hands to themselves and there are often little "tiffs" over the kids disturbing one another. It drives me crazy.) Anyway, I heard the commotion so I walked over and Hillary had started to pout/cry. I gave the boys a firm lecture about stealing, asked them to give back the pencil that they supposedly took from Hillary, and to apologize. Then, Hillary slid under his bench. I wasn't too worried about this because the kids often do that when they are annoyed with their benchmates and need a moment to chill without having someone else's elbows digging into their sides. I totally understand, and during work times if a kid needs a moment "under the bench" I don't really mind. I walked away to check on everyone else and give Hillary a chance to breathe and the other boys a chance to make the right choice.

Then, not even two minutes later, I heard a lot of chatter and a couple of kids saying, "Hillary's dying!" It took my mind a minute to comprehend that statement...I rushed over and looked at where Hillary was sitting on the floor. He had his legs under the bench and his head near where the kids sit. His head was tilted back and his hands were clutching around his throat. He was trying to pinch off his airway to choke himself to death. When I first saw him, his eyes had tears rimmed around them. What really shook me up was the complete hopelessness and lifelessness I saw in his eyes. It was like he was a blank, and all of the air had literally and figuratively gone out of him.

I didn't even know what to think. My mind was reeling, my heart was breaking, and I was slightly panicking. The already hot room got much hotter. In those first few seconds of discovering Hillary like that, I think I was in shock and didn't really believe what I was seeing. I didn't want to believe what I was seeing. The other kids jumped out of their seats to see what was happening, I yelled at them to sit down, and then I sent two of the other boys to go get the headteacher or another guy teacher. It seemed like they were taking forever.

I was panicking so much inside, but I also knew I had a job to do. The other kids, once I asked them to "Sit back down in your seats, now!" were actually pretty obedient. They were worried and I could tell they wanted to crowd around Hillary, and some of them did, but for the most part I was proud of the way they handled themselves. I tried to pry Hillary's hands off his throat but they were wrapped so impossibly tight. I was horrified and thinking the worst. My heart was beating a mile a minute. I kept thinking, "God, what on Earth am I going to do? How did I let this happen on my watch??"

During this time of my initial panic, the other kids also told me Hillary swallowed a wire. (Which ended up to not be true, but at the time I was so worried that if he had swallowed a wire, it could have punctured something in his throat or digestive tract and then he would really be in a heap of trouble.) Furthermore, I was worried that Hillary had took a drug or something because he looked so out of it. (I don't think he did, but there's no way to be 100% sure.)

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the headteacher came and the two boys picked Hillary up by the armpits and the feet and carried him to the headteacher's office where they laid him down on the ground to chill. He had released his throat and was now just breathing in great big, heaving breaths and crying. His eyes still looked completely lifeless- I don't think he even knew what exactly was happening or what he had almost done.

I could see Hillary lying in the office from the window of my classroom (the door to the office was straight across the yard and the door was open) so I stayed with the other kids as Hillary was now in the care of the headteacher. I got the kids going on writing their letters again. Then, I went to check on Hillary. He was physically doing better and catching his breath, but emotionally he looked a wreck. One of the other teachers told me he has a very desperate, depressing home life (no mom, one older brother in grade 8, and a dad who works nights and is often gone when the kids get home from school and still not back when they come to school in the morning, so they are basically fending for themselves). The teacher said, "We have so many of these kinds of problems here."

My naive view of the kids' home lives, the reality of their situations, and what really is going on all around me was totally destroyed by the idea that a 12-year-old kid had experienced such utter hopelessness AND knew exactly what to do to attempt to end his life...

Once I got back from checking on Hillary, I had a chat with the other kids about not teasing and always, always being kind to one another. I was so firm with them about how life outside of school is so hard, we HAVE to stick together during school and support each other. I then led them in prayer for Hillary. Hillary's dad eventually showed up and took him to a clinic and he went home for the rest of the day.

I am still processing this situation. The desperation and hopelessness I saw in Hillary's eyes is an image I'll never forget. I don't know why God allowed me to witness this. I don't know how I'll ever 100% forgive myself for not seeing it coming, not knowing the signs, and not stopping the other boys from teasing Hillary until it became too much. My heart is broken when I think of Hillary and the million kids like him in Africa, Asia, even in the US, who face rough home lives...

I wish I had a way to inject hope into these kids lives. I pray and pray for them and everyday I love them as much as I can. I have always told myself that I can't change the world, but that I can love the children God puts in my path with His love. I can share Jesus with the kids and tell them about the hope we have in God and love them to the moon and back, just like God does. I tell myself that it's enough, and I've always believed that just loving the kids was enough. But for the first time, I saw that sometimes it's NOT enough. My love, my teaching was not enough for Hillary. It won't be enough for some of the other kids in the class who will face similar hopelessness in their futures. My love simply isn't enough...that thought frustrates me to the core. But I know, I believe with all of my heart, that even though my love isn't enough, GOD'S love is. But how can I, an imperfect, struggling amateur teacher, communicate that infinite love in a way that the students grasp and internalize? I just don't have answers for that question...

Friday (the day after all of this happened) Hillary was back at school. He was doing fine in the morning and actually joked with me like his old self. He led the class in songs and prayer during morning devotion. But, then, over the course of the morning, his light began to fade and before lunch he was crying again. During lunch he went off to sit by himself back behind the toilets where, generally, only the 1st and 2nd graders play. I didn't want him to be alone, so I went with him and just sat with him. I held his hand and rubbed his back and, even though he is a 12-year-old boy, he let me. I felt like his mom, and I prayed God would use me to love him with a motherly love because he doesn't have a mom. The whole time I sat with him, I just kept praying for God to give him hope. I told him not to give up and to talk to someone when life gets hard. He was just kind of staring off into the distance with those dead eyes again...I hated seeing him like that. By the end of the day, after lunch, he was doing better again and talking with some of the other kids. It's like the hopelessness/depression hits him at times but at other times he's okay. I worry that he'll get depressed at home someday and try to kill himself again when no one is around to stop him...I just want to hold his hand and wrap my arms around him forever.

I just wish the kids at school could have some counseling or something when they're in these types of situations. It kills me to feel helpless. It kills me that I'm shoving grammar and algebra down their throats when they're facing much bigger issues. (But I know, and the kids know too, that getting a good education is one of the keys to getting out of poverty.)

I'm not sure where to end this post. Pray for my students that they will feel hope and love in their lives and that they won't give up, even when it's tough. Pray for me that I can truly spend myself on their behalf and somehow show God's infinite love through my weak, imperfect self.

My view of life, my view of what it means to be a teacher and a lover of children is forever altered...I don't know what God will call me to do in the future, but I do know that wherever I end up, this experience will stay in my mind and I won't forget Hillary. My life's passion has always been to make the kids in my life feel loved and valued (by both me and God) and I will continue to do that until the day I die, knowing that although my love isn't always enough, God's love is.

Love,
Ashley