It’s Halloween! The students were beside themselves with anticipation today. They were allowed to come to school in their costumes, which was convenient for our little class, I thought. They could come already dressed, and then their parents could pick them up (early, Crystal and I hoped) and take them straight to trick-or-treating. In my neighborhood, the little ones this age usually started in the late afternoon, around 3:30 or 4:00, while it was still daylight. In fact, Crystal and I were wondering how many of our students might be absent altogether. It’s a Friday. It’s a holiday. Surely parents would pull their child from class and give us a bit of a holiday, too. If the numbers of students in the building went down fast enough, maybe some of us would even get sent home early (especially those of us with our own children), and we could start our trick-or-treating, as well.
No such luck. Every student was in attendance. (The parents do not want to lose any of their free time away from their children.) We tried to make the time pass quickly for the students by keeping them busy with pumpkin stories and special treats and decorating real pumpkins, but one poor student had an even longer wait than usual.
Allison was the only daughter in a family with two older brothers. She was dressed as a witch today and was very excited about the prospect of trick-or-treating. Her older brothers had told her all about it, she said, because she didn’t remember much from last year.
One-by-one, the children disappeared from the bench inside Pemberton’s front door where they’d been waiting for their parent to drive up. At last, all that was left was Allison.
“Where’s my mommy?” she asked, a little quiver beginning to enter her voice.
“She’ll be here soon, sweetie,” I reassured her. (“I hope” I added in my head. I knew the festivities had started in my neighborhood more than an hour ago, and my own children were waiting for me to get home, and it would take at least 45 minutes for me to drive there.)
Ten more minutes passed and big tears began to well up in Allison’s eyes. Her mother was overdue, and Crystal began filling out the paperwork for tardy pick-ups. Pemberton required a form for late parents, which had to be signed by the parent and turned in to the office for the charge of an additional fee to be added to their next month’s bill. Crystal disappeared into the office, leaving me to stay with Allison, never thinking of offering to stay behind and let me go ahead to get home to my family, despite the fact that she lived in an apartment with no children of her own and few, if any, disappointed trick-or-treaters at her door.
After five more minutes, I don’t know who was more antsy, Allison or me. She was swinging her legs and banging them against the bench, but I didn’t correct her. I was too busy pacing the floor and watching out through the glass doors. Finally, a car pulled up and Allison’s mother got out. I grabbed Allison’s hand, and we burst through the front doors of the school toward her car. As we approached, her brothers leaned out the windows of the car waving huge, heavily-laden bags.
“LOOK WHAT WE GOT!!!” they screamed to her. “We’ve already been trick-or-treating, and we got a ton of candy!”
Allison and I both stopped dead in our tracks. I looked down at her as she turned her stricken face first up to me, then at her mother. The tears that Allison had held in check so successfully until now came streaming down her face. Rightly so, I might add. Surely, surely, her mother was going to take them all back out now that she had Allison.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” she gushed. “I wanted to take the boys out trick-or-treating before I got Allison. It’s just too hard to keep up with them with her along. You know how it is.”
No, I don’t. I handed her the paperwork to sign. I was so livid; I couldn’t trust myself to speak. I’d surely say something that would get me fired.
“Oh, stop that!” she scolded Allison to silence her loud sobbing. “You can have some of your brothers’ candy when we get home.” (Loud protestations emanated from inside the car.)
I turned around and headed into the school; she got Allison in the car and drove away. My heart broke for the child.
Every once in a while as a teacher, you come across an unwanted child. There is no tangible proof of abuse, but there is an air of neglect about them. They are an afterthought, an inconvenience, an obligation to their parent and no more than that. There’s nothing you can do about it, usually. It’s not to the point that the law will protect them. It’s not abuse, per se. But it’s cruel.
I hurry home to my children and give them extra hugs and kisses when I see them. Thank God they don’t know why.
Thank you for articulating that experience. Sad but true. Those heartbreaking moments, you cannot do anything about since it is not “abuse, per se” …..yet so impactful on a child, and the caring adults that surround them. Well written Annie.
Yes, I will never understand how parents can do this, but I’ve seen it more times than I care to remember. Thanks for continuing to visit the site and for leaving a comment!