1. In The Palm Of #2
I understood it, because that was my life for so long.
Counseling revealed how much of myself I saw in these students.
Growing up, we had a counselor’s office, with no counselor.
We didn’t have half the resources this generation does.
Our options as black people, specifically black men, was to suck that shit up and move the hell on and that was why we sometimes tend to channel our emotions in unacceptable ways.
No one taught us what to do when we were angry or overwhelmed without getting our asses beat or beating someone else’s until there was relief.
If I was told to count how many times my anger led me to fights or trouble, I would run out of fingers, toes, and body parts.
Not seeking help was a vicious cycle that I tend to break, one child at a time.
My job will always be to pull up a root before it dies and get it back into the sunlight because it’s never too late to bloom.
Now, I’m not saying all these little niggas were justified in their wrongdoing, because a good amount of them just needed a good belt to ass session.
What I am saying is that it is important to teach kids that it is okay to be expressive.
Drama aside, the staff here at Sweet Pea Academy was amazing and that was why we were ranked the best Academy in the region.
These kids were truly the hearts of our vision.
As I was closing out the tabs on my laptop, there was a great deal of commotion outside my door before heavy fist pounding echoed.
It took me seconds to get there and the second I opened it, Shawn stormed in holding the arm of a young boy I’d seen around before.
His chest was heaving up and down and tears streamed down his face.
Shutting the door behind him, I immediately grabbed a box of tissues and an ice pack, but when I got closer to the kid, I didn’t see where he needed it.
He took the tissues without looking at me.
Placing both hands on his shoulders, I lowered my head to meet him at eyelevel. He did everything in his power not to look at me, but the tears flowed harder.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I want you to breathe. You’re safe here, okay?” It took a few seconds, but he quickly nodded. “Go have a seat. I will be there in a second. Okay?”
The kid nodded again, using his shirt to wipe his face.
I made sure he was comfortable before following Shawn to the corner of my office so we could be out of earshot.
To everyone else, he was Officer Cooley, the school resource officer, but to me he was Shawn, my little brother and one of the few people I fucked with in and outside of SPA.
“The fuck happened?”
“That sixth grader Ryan was fucking with him. Said something that set him off,” he shrugged. “No one even knew he’d been bothering him. Zion is a good kid, barely even talks. I didn’t want him getting in trouble, so I brought him to you,” Shawn whispered.
I turned looking over my shoulder at him. He’d calmed down and was staring out the window pulling at loose strings on the couch. I turned to face Shawn again. “Anything I should know about him?”
“Quiet, shy, and the little nigga got them hands. That’s it,” he chuckled. I shook my head to stop my laugh. “Miss Baxter is already calling his people up, so someone may or may not be here shortly. You know how that shit go.”
“I do. I got him.”
“I appreciate you bro. We’ll connect on this later. I’m going to handle the other nigga.”
We did a quick dap and when he opened the door, Ryan was in the hallway talking shit.
“That little nigga weak as fuck! Let me get at him! Let me go!”
The kid, who I now know as Zion, got up so fast charging toward the door that I barely caught his arm before he slipped out.
“Woah. Woah. You good,” I held him back, locking the door behind Shawn. “People like that, you don’t allow them to get in your head. Don’t give that situation any more of your energy. It’s done. You hear me?”
His eyes finally met mine and he spoke in the calmest tone. “He doesn’t want to see me again. I can bet you that, sir.”
I tried not to, but his little voice talking shit made me chuckle. “And I believe you. Now, take a seat.”
“Yes sir,” Zion mumbled and plopped down on the couch. I made sure to enable the feature that allowed me to lock the doors from the inside. Not only did it help with privacy, but when I had to call CPS on parents, it helped keep them from fleeing.
“We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting. I’m Mr. Denver and you are?” I extended my fist to him.
He looked up from the floor to my fist then met me halfway. “Zion. Collins. It is nice to meet you, Mr. Denver. I heard you are cool.”
“You can say that.” I shrugged.
Not bothering to sit behind my desk, I leaned against it silently studying Zion.
Based on the information Shawn had given me, I knew there wasn’t anything in his chart that would give me answers so I searched my brain trying to find the best way to approach him.
My eyes moved to the basketball sticker that was half peeled off his shirt.
“Kobe or Jordan?”
His big watery eyes met mine again, but this time, he was looking like I had offended him. I chuckled. Zion swiped away his tears with the back of his hands.
“Are you trying to make me feel better about having to spend the rest of my school year at home?”
“No. I asked you Kobe or Bron?”
Zion blinked. “The numbers will say Bron, and he is a great player, and you cannot take that away from him, but nobody can make difficult shots like Kobe. When it was crunch time, he was going to come through especially when it came to free throws. Kobe didn’t get his flowers until he was gone and although I didn’t fully understand ball when he was alive, I study him now.
He's elite and an amazing teammate. Most won’t agree, but he will forever be in my top three.
Plus, he paved the way so Bron could ball. I’m going with Kobe all day.”
Impressed, I nodded my head. Zion was able to articulate his words and emotions well. People are shocked when I say that for kids over the age of five, but I know plenty of little niggas whose favorite color is bacon.
“I got to agree with you there. Who is your number one?”
“Allen Iverson.”
That answer threw me off. “Dam—dang! You really do know ball.”
“I do. Thanks to my dad.”
“How old are you?”
“Nine.”
I folded my arms against my chest. “You’re a smart guy, Zion.”
A little smile formed against his lips. “Thanks, Mr. Denver. Can I call my mom now?”
“We’ve done that already, so while we wait on her, you care to tell me what happened today? To my knowledge, you’ve never been in a situation like this. What sparked it?”
He sighed as if he was dreading this question.
“Ryan has been bothering me since I was in third grade. I was trying to be a man and be strong, but he went too far. One of my—well I thought he was my friend, he’s an associate now, but he told the class about my condition and that I take medicine every day, so he’s been teasing me since he found out.
At first, I would ignore him, but today he said my mom would be lonely forever.
He doesn’t even know my mom. I had to defend her,” he started to cry again.
Not wanting to ask him about the condition, I moved into the other half of his statement, knowing that piece of information wouldn’t be documented.
I handed him another tissue then laid a hand on his shoulder until he calmed. “There you go. Why would he think your mom is lonely?”
He was silent for a beat and his eyes slowly drifted away from me again. Tears fell from his face. Most of the time, I was able to remove my personal feelings from the job, but something about him was pulling at my heart strings.
“Mom came to the PTA meeting alone. Her and dad used to come together and everybody noticed,” he whispered. “They broke up months ago and I really miss them together. I never get in trouble Mr. Denver, but I a?—"
Another series of loud banging echoed. There was only one knock like that when I had a child in my room. Without thinking too much about it, I hit the unlock button and the door swung open immediately. I heard her before I saw her.
“Where is my son? Zy!” She ran across the room toward him, lowering herself to her knees in front of him as she pulled him into her arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh my gosh.”
“I’m okay, mama. I was scared and I defended myself. I—I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” she rocked him back and forth then pulled back to examine his face. Her back was to me, but I could see her wild coils moving every time she did. “Are you in pain? Did you have your medicine today?” She fired off.
“I’m okay. I was leaving Doctor Knight’s office when it happened. He was bullying me m?—”
“Bullying!?” Her voice carried and when she turned to me, her anger was evident. She rose to her feet and came in my direction looking at me in disbelief. “Yall allowed my son to be bullied?”
“I completely understand your frust?—”
“Oh, nigga please! You don’t understand a mu—” She paused, placing one hand on her hip and the other on her forehead as she took a deep breath.
She did an about-face and turned back to her son.
“Zy, baby. I know you’re already upset. Would you mind going to sit in the principal’s office and I will be right there? ”
Zion looked between the both of us then nodded. Being that the front office was where I could see it, I watched him walk there and get inside safely before returning to my office. Zion’s mother barely waited until I closed the door to start up again.